Plague's gaze locks onto mine, holding eye contact with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. "I imagineshewould know more about that than I do."
The words hit about as hard as that pistol whip I just treated him to. I actually take a step back, the gun wavering in my suddenly unsteady hand.
"Azarel didn't tell me shit," I spit out, anger rising to cover the hurt. "And if he betrayed his country, it wasn't for my sake. He lied to me. About everything except his name, apparently. Then fucked off to who knows where while I was languishing in the captivity of a wasteland megalomaniac," I say, gesturing at Nikolai with the gun. "No offense."
"None taken, little psycho," Nikolai says flatly. "But point that thing elsewhere."
Plague frowns, and there's something in his expression I can't quite read. Confusion? Concern? On him, it's hard to tell.
"He didn't end up coming for you?"
Plague's question chokes all the air out of the car.
Everyone goes dead silent. Even the train's rhythmic clacking seems to fade into the background. I feel dread building in mychest like ice, spreading through my veins with each heartbeat. There's a question forming on my lips that I'm terrified to ask, but I've come this far. Dragged this merry band of degenerates into becoming international fugitives with me.
I have to know.
"What do you mean?" My voice comes out smaller than I intended.
Plague sighs, and for once, it doesn't sound condescending. Just tired.
"The plan was never to kidnap you," he explains. "We were after your husband, Monty. We intended to use him as leverage against the Council. When that failed, we took you in his stead. A bargaining chip."
My hands are shaking now, waiting for the drop. I can feel Knight shifting behind me, responding to my distress, but I can't look at him. Can't look at any of them.
"Imagine my surprise," Plague continues, "when none other than my brother came to collect."
The world tilts sideways. I want to believe him. Want it so desperately it's like a physical ache in my chest. But hope is dangerous. Hope gets you killed in this world, if not worse.
"Azarel came for me?" I hate how fucking weak I sound. Hopeful, even now. Even knowing what it's always cost me. "When?"
Plague doesn't answer immediately. Always calculating. Always trying to maintain control. "Before the war," he says carefully. "And again, when he realized we'd moved you out of Surhiira."
My heart drops into my stomach.
Was he out there looking for me the whole time? Or does he not give a shit about me anymore? Maybe I'm better off not knowing the answer, but I've already come this far. The others are watching me. Dead silent, but watching.
Might as well have an audience to my humiliation if this goes the way I'm afraid it will. What's one more indignity on the pile that's made up my existence?
"When?"
Plague looks confused. "I'm sorry?"
I take a breath, force the words out louder. "Whendid he come for me a second time? How long did it take for your brother to realize I'd been moved?"
The hesitation tells me everything before he even opens his mouth. That small pause, the way his eyes flicker away from mine for just a second.
"Recently," he answers carefully.
I raise the gun again. The weight of it feels strange in my hand. Off balance. "How recently?"
"Cosima," Geo begins warily, but I ignore him. All of them. I keep my gaze and my gun trained on Plague and tell myself shooting him won't fix anything. Even if they do have the same frigid pale blue eyes. Guess it runs in the family.
"A week ago, give or take," Plague answers, holding my stare without flinching. He's a calm motherfucker, I'll give him that. Calm or soulless. Hard to tell.
I'm clearly not any good at discerning the difference.
A week ago.Give or take.
