"Well?" Isla asked, twirling. "Do I pass off as a naive, helpless, tax bride?"
Sloane pursed her lips, her hands trembling as she heaved the now bursting satchel over her shoulders.
The weight nearly sent her stumbling backwards, and she had to quickly set it down, clenching her hands to keep them still.
She had spent the last half hour fighting back tears, while stuffing in any, and everything she thought they might need.
Or rather, everything Isla listed off.
Medical supplies, canned foods... dozens of canned foods that Sloane imagined they would have to ditch eventually, yet Isla was insistent on it.
All to distract herself from the guilt eating away at her...
The wide, horrified eyes of the Bronte girl from a moment ago had stuck to her mind and wouldn't let go.
Isla claimed she was unharmed. Her eyes said otherwise.
The dress Isla now had on wasn't nearly as luxurious as the one she'd discarded, and Sloane guessed that was the point.
The fabric of clothing the high society vampires and Lycans utilized were beyond what even the wealthiest werewolf could afford.
At this moment, if Isla claimed she was one of the tax brides and not a predator, the other girls would be none the wiser.
Although, Sloane wasn't certain what her motivation was, to blend in with the prey, when she naturally had the advantage anyone else in this dreadful forest would kill for.
"No?" Isla glanced down at the dress. "I thought it looked quite decent on her, don't you think?"
Her tongue slowly grazed her fangs, and the grin on her lips told Sloane everything she needed to know.
Sloane winced.
There wasn't even the slightest remorse in Isla's tone when talking about stealing a poor girl's only clothes, feeding on her blood and leaving her to the mercy of the forest.
What was even more chilling, Sloane knew Isla didn't actually need the sustenance.
She'd drained the vampire, Atticus earlier.
The gleam in her eyes told Sloane she'd fed on the girl for sport.
Same way Isla used her to lure Atticus, just because she could.
Here in the Federation, it was a given, that whatever one desired, as far as one could take it, it was yours.
She thought back to the Lycan she'd met that night.
He'd said the same.
But what was more daunting to Sloane was the fact that she'd been the one to free Isla.
If she hadn't, neither Atticus, nor the Bronte girl would have ended up the way they had.
Sloane turned, and Isla was suddenly gone from where she had stood.
Returning her attention to the satchel, she shrieked, stumbling backwards as Isla now crouched beside her, staring at her with intrigue.
"If you're going to cuss me out in your mind, you might as well say it to my face." Isla asserted, her expression eerily calm.
Sloane gulped audibly.
"You... killed a man..." She stuttered, her tone barely audible.
Isla quirked a brow. "Not a man. A monster."
Sloane winced. "W...why?"
Isla smiled coldly, reaching a hand out to stroke Sloane's hair. "Sloane Mercer...the Federation is a dark, unforgiving place."
"If you hope to survive, you must first learn... there's no reward for kindness." She smirked, "If there was, you wouldn't have ended up here, while your sister and your mate got away with dooming you."
Sloane flinched like she'd been slapped.
"Back in the cave, I thought I saw the gleam of a survivor...turns out, you're just another little girl." Isla's expression remained unchanged as she stood up straight. "Come now, I'll take you to the forest exit."
"But..." Sloane protested,
Isla's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I've killed many monsters, Sloane. And I will kill many more. I have no qualms adding one little human to that list."
Sloane's heart shrivelled.
"I'm letting you go now, to carry on being an ignorant, hapless tool for the pleasure of those academy cadets." She sneered in disdain, "And maybe you'll be lucky enough to find a replacement for Grayson."
Sloane swallowed down the lump in her throat, rising to her feet unsteadily.
She had just reached for the satchel when Isla swayed, losing her balance and dropping to her knees with a forceful thud.
A strained gasp tore out of her lips.
"Isla!" Sloane exclaimed, the satchel dropping from her hand and spilling half the contents she'd stuffed into it.
Isla exhaled sharply, lifting a trembling hand up and Sloane's eyes widened to see a strange looking red mark branding itself on Isla's palm.
"The Beaumont curse..." Isla muttered.
She sounded different than Sloane had grown accustomed to.
Less smug...
Almost...scared...
"Atticus Beaumont, that little bastard..." Isla hissed beneath her breath, her eyes scanning the supply cabin. "We need to leave!"
Sloane leaned down to pack up the satchel when Isla grabbed her wrist. "Now!"
Sloane jumped, startled. "But the supplies..."
"You won't need them if you're dead!" Isla's sharp tone sent a chill of terror down Sloane's spine.
Sloane grabbed the satchel, abandoning the contents that were littered on the floor, as Isla dragged her along, dashing out of the cabin.
They raced for the woods, Isla leading the way, with a firm grip around Sloane's wrist, while Sloane struggled to keep up.
Sloane instinctively glanced over her shoulder.
The woods behind them were perfectly still, even peaceful. This wasn't a red marked zone.
So what exactly were they running from?
"Isla! Slow down!" Sloane tried, stumbling over her own feet to keep up, "What is going on?! What happened back there?!"
A distant, guttural growl answered Sloane's question.
The sound sent an eerie tremor through the already dead forest.
"It's close! Hurry Sloane!" Isla hissed, hastening her pace. "I can't take on a Beaumont reaper in my state!"
"A Beaumont reaper?!" Sloane exclaimed, her injuries protesting their inhuman speed. "What is that?!"
But her words were lost to Isla's frantic state.
Sloane wasn't sure for how long they'd been running. The growls still echoed behind them, close on their tail.
Isla came to an abrupt stop as the path forked out into three different directions. She glanced around urgently.
"This way." She said, tugging Sloane along. "We need to get to the waterfall. The curse mark weakens close to water."
Sloane tried to keep up with Isla's pace, but she stumbled, crashing to the ground hard.
She scrambled up to her feet, but she wasn't fast enough.
A guttural growl echoed right behind her. A cold chill crawling down her spine.
Hot, white pain sliced across her back as something sharp and heavy pierced into her back, and forced her down, her face smashing into the earth.
Sloane's eyes blew wide. A scream tearing out of her throat.
"Curse...bearer..." The growl echoed in her ears.
Sloane clawed desperately at the earth, struggling to free herself as the claws of the beast dug deeper into her back, pinning her down.
She lifted a helpless gaze, and her eyes met Isla's conflicted orbs.
This was it.
This time... she was done for.
Sloane's heart dropped to the pit of her stomach.
Even Denna had abandoned her for her own safety.
She didn't dare hope Isla, a monster who mercilessly killed other monsters, would be any different.
Sloane's vision blurred. The pain was blinding.
It was beyond anything she'd ever felt before... anything she'd ever thought possible.
At this moment, she harbored a thought she hadn't dared before now,
'Had Grayson known... she would be sent away in Sancia's stead?'
Just then, Sloane felt a familiar grip close around her wrist.
The woods spun around her as she was suddenly pulled free from the claw pinning her down.
A scream tore out of her throat. The sound of her own flesh ripping, echoed in her ears.
Sloane felt the impact as she crashed into the ground, her ribs snapping.
She whimpered lowly, tears springing to her eyes.
She attempted to lift her head up, but a dim red light exploded around her, shattering like shards of glass.
Her hand shot up to shield her eyes. But she still heard it clearly.
Isla...
Her pained scream reverberated through the forest.
A fading shriek soon after.
And then, silence.
Sloane's eyes snapped open, her vision shifting in and out of focus as she took stock of her surroundings.
The beast was gone, along with the burst of light.
And a few paces away from her, in a pool of what Sloane feared to believe was blood, was Isla.
Horror crawled down Sloane's spine, like a cold, diseased hand. "No...no...no..."
She crawled over to Isla frantically, her hands trembling as she cradled her head.
Isla was motionless.
The metallic smell of blood was overwhelming enough to choke on. Sloane's stomach twisted.
"I... Isla... you..."
Isla's eyes fluttered open weakly. "Fucking human...all you had to do was run..."
Sloane flinched, guilt curling in the pit of her stomach.
If only she hadn't stumbled. If only she'd been faster...
"I... I'll run now... I swear..." Sloane stuttered, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Isla grunted. "It's too late, silly."
Sloane shook her head adamantly. "It can't be! You're... you're Isla! You're powerful!"
The words felt hollow... Sloane herself didn't believe them.
Predators, prey, at the end of the day, none of them were immortal. Death didn't pick favorites.
"I'm not going to make it." Isla coughed weakly. "I've been imprisoned for too long, my strength isn't what it used to be."
Sloane clutched Isla's shoulders, a tortured sob ripping out of her throat.
Isla was a monster. She was, and yet...
"I wanted this cycle of hate and bloodshed to end with me..." Isla sighed heavily,
Her tone was icy cold now. "But there are still three Beaumont heirs living and breathing in this world."
Sloane shook her head in confusion. "Beaumont heirs, reapers... what do they matter?! You need help!"
Isla smiled slightly. "I knew you were a wimp. But this is really pushing it...you barely even know me."
Frustration clawed within Sloane at that. "I don't care! You saved me! You saved me, Isla! No one else..."
"No one..." Her words trailed off, a weak sob escaped her instead.
"I'll probably be the first of my kind, to pass my will on to a human. I don't know if your weak body can bear it...but if you live..." Isla chuckled, "It'll be fun...to see what you eventually become, Sloane Mercer."
"What... what are you talking about?" Sloane stuttered.
Isla moved in a flash. Sloane didn't have enough time to escape.
All she could do was stare into the darkness of the forest with wide eyes, and mouth agape, as Isla's fangs pierced into her neck.