the story of us ✷ jackson¹

★ 𝒙𝒙𝒙𝒗𝒊𝒊𝒊. 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈

Bronte didn't know what was going on. Her vision was blurry, her ears rang, and all she could feel was agonizing pain in her shoulder. This wasn't the first time she was on the verge of death, but like always, it felt just as bad.

Percy held Bronte close to him, his heart beating out of his chest. He couldn't seem to understand why she would do something so risky for him. Sure, he would have done the same thing if he was in her position, but Bronte was supposed to be the smarter one out of the two of them. "B? You okay?"

"Huh?" she asked, her head slowly turning to look at him. She felt as if her reaction time had slowed down. Her blue sweater was getting darker by the second, the blood dripping down and staining the white snow red.

Percy wrapped one of Bronte's arms around his neck and placed his hand on her waist. His grip was tight as he gritted his teeth. Percy felt as if everything was his fault. The two teens had been in danger before and had each other's backs in battle, but this time was different. He didn't know how, but it was.

Of course it had to be Bronte. If only Percy just followed her and didn't go off on his own, she wouldn't have been in this position. He wouldn't have caused her to get hurt.

Percy didn't know what kind of monster Dr. Thorn was, but he was fast. Maybe he could defend himself if he could get my shield activated. All that it would take was a touch of his wristwatch.

But defending the di Angelo kids was another matter. And now that Bronte was injured, they definitely needed help.

"Bah! My poison causes pain, Jackson. It will not kill the girl. Let go of her and walk!" Dr. Thorn snarled with his accent.

Percy stared daggers at the man. There was no way he was going to let go of her.

Bronte, on the other hand, tried to remove her arm from his neck, stating that she could walk. She didn't want to cause any more trouble or get Percy hurt. But he only held onto her tighter, not releasing her. He knew she could barely take a few steps before crumbling.

Percy knew of one way to call for help. He closed his eyes as Thorn herded the four further outside. He pictured Grover's face. He focused on his feelings of fear and danger–which, considering the situation he was in, wasn't that hard. Percy watched as blood dripped down from Bronte's sleeve and down into the white snow, creating a small trail of their every step.

Last summer, Grover had created an empathy link. He'd sent the raven haired boy visions in his dreams to let him know when he was in trouble. As far as Percy knew, they were still linked, but he'd never tried to contact Grover before.

Hey, Grover! Percy thought. Some bad shit happened! Bronte's hurt! Thorn's kidnapping us! He's a poisonous spike-throwing maniac! Help!

Thorn inarched them into the woods. They took a snowy path dimly lit by old-fashioned lamplights.