Once Nemo collapsed on my other side, silence filled the room. And with it, bad thoughts.
“Everything is going to work out,” I told Baz. I needed him to believe that. He turned and looked at us both, staring silently for a long time.
“Please, just … ” I trailed off, unsure what to say. I bit back so many things I wanted to tell him, worried they were the wrong things.
“Just, what?” He asked. Did I beg him for honesty? Demand he spill out his feelings and fears about what the serum would do? What it meant for us? I didn’t think demands were what he needed right now.
“We’re going to figure this out together,” I said. His gaze flipped between Nemo and me. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it back and sighed.
“Are you tired yet?” Baz asked, rubbing my arm.
“We’ll stay up with you,” I responded, looking over at the watch he’d set on the nightstand. I didn’t want to ask how many hours were left. The countdown didn't mean anything to me.
“Bring in Orson,” Baz said. He plucked up the watch and slid it on his wrist. After noting the time, he turned to us with a charming smile. “Let’s fuck again, this time while you feed.”
14
THE GETAWAY
BAZ
Four and a half hours.
The problem with chaotic plans is that you’re most concentrated on the first part and often fail to give enough attention to all the pieces that fall after. They were asleep, right, okay. Where were the fucking keys? I shook out Orson’s pants in frustration and with no luck.
Right, okay,perfect. I shook out Nemo’s pants. Nothing. Quickly, I gathered up my clothes and boots, then left the room. I slipped on my gloves and stood there naked while I thought about where else to check. Well, naked except for the gloves and Orson’s watch. I turned my arm and glared at the clock hands—still four and a half hours.
With a thick swallow and a deep breath, I pushed down the desire to panic. Everything was going according to plan. Bree had drunk them, and they’d all passed out—exhausted from missing sleep, being on the run, and losing blood. Or in Bree’s case, drinking and fucking too much.
Of course, if anything at all went sideways right now—for instance, one of them waking up, or me not being able to find thekeys—then I’d kill the three of them. Thank god it was just that and not something traumatic.Oh wait…
I put on the rest of my clothes and went to the kitchen. Nothing was on the counters except empty Chinese takeout containers and empty blood bags. The lingering scent of fried foods, sweet syrups, and iron hung in the air, reminding me of dinner. It was nice having a meal outside the asylum with them all.
With delicate movements, I slid open one drawer after the next—careful not to create too much noise. The older wooden cabinetry kept jostling, threatening to shake silver utensils.
The three sleeping bodies in the room down the hall had preternatural hearing. Way better than mine. For all I knew, it sounded like a cafeteria brawl about to startle them awake. So, I slowed my efforts even further, leaning in as close as I could to catch the sound before they might. Every second was rapidly eaten by the next as I drew out my searching to a sloth’s pace.
And after all that effort, nothing. I looked at the watch. Fifteen minutes gone. Shit. I needed all the time I could get. It wasn’t just about getting out of this house. It was about driving out of the woods, contacting Supra, and getting picked up before I started to kill everyone around me.
I wanted to be safely behind locked doors for the big hoo-rah. What would happen when time was up? Would it hurt? Would I unintentionally kill Supra before they could lock me safely away from everyone? One thing for sure, I had to be as far away from here as possible.
I dragged my fingers down my masked face with a muted groan. Orson had driven. Plus, this was his cabin. If I were Orson, where would I put the keys? I chewed on my lip as I put myself in his shoes. A vampire, a serial killer, a therapist … liked things orderly. Well, unless it was sex. So where would I put my keys? I stood there with a blank mind. Wow, I was astonishinglyterrible at empathy or mind-reading, whichever people-skill set it took to think like someone else.
The living room offered no clues. I looked over the couch, the coffee table, the dinner table, and chairs—there wasn’t much to see. Quietly, I slid over to the couch and grabbed the cushions, failing to rip them off when I realized they were sewn in. I blew out an annoyed breath and began to finger fuck the couch cushions, attempting to seduce its secrets out of it. When I felt the rigid tip of metal, I went knuckle deep into its crack. A moment later, I held my breath as I pulled out keys— Wait, no. It was loose change.Fuck.
I went back in, but five minutes later, all I had for my effort was a collection of coins and a satisfied couch. I pocketed the money, hoping I could use it to make a phone call in one of those street booths. I tried to remember where I’d seen them in movies. There hadn’t been one at the grocery store or gas station. Orson had dumped his own cell phone after the grocery store.
I gave the rest of the room a glance, but my eyes snagged on the front door. Every minute in this house was stifling. The urge to flee pressed on me. Each moment inside was a risk that could ruin my entire plan. They’d never let me leave if they woke up. However, I needed the keys, and the keys were likely in the house … weren’t they?
Before I knew it, I was across the room, my fingers wrapping around the front door’s knob. I gave it a firm squeeze and then twisted it. Night spilled in—fresh air, darkness, and the soft sounds of night birds and insects. It felt motionless beyond the house. The third night outside Verfallen felt as odd as the first.
I stepped onto the porch, and the wooden beams creaked beneath my boots. Grimacing, I closed the door as slowly as possible. With utmost care, I stepped on every fucking creakingpiece of wood on the deck, hissing curses in my head. Finally, I jumped off the top, skipping the steps entirely.
After straightening myself, I looked up. The forest at night was vast in a way the halls of the asylum could never hope to achieve. The tips of jagged tree tops framed the expanse of space. Stars glittered silently above. My attention slid down, my eyes settling on the darkness of the treeline caging me in. I tried to make shapes out of shadows, and the sensation of being watched pressed against my clothes. For a moment, I waited motionlessly, wondering if Supra might already be here, waiting for the perfect moment to silently emerge from the trees and take me away from the people I cared about.
My heart beat hard in my chest as I imagined it. It was strange to be scared of the very thing I was willingly running towards, wasn’t it? I didn’twantto leave them just like I didn’t want to be untouchable.
But more than all of that, I didn’t want to kill Bree, Nemo, or Orson. So I had to give it all up. I had to be alone. Because, like it or not, I was born to be untouchable.
