I was the logical one. A strategist. Calculating. And I was a loner who knew sticking with Baz and Nemo could mean my downfall.
No one was asking for my help or demanding I do something. If someone had, it would have taken away my need to stare the naked truth in the face.
So here I was, finally admitting it to myself. I cared for them irrevocably.
My eyes began to glow as I captured Baz’s gaze.
“Orson?” He asked in confusion.
"Open the door, Baz."
His eyes widened in shock.
I’d never hypnotized him before, and clearly, he hadn’t expected it. I watched his expression break as he reached for thephone on the floor a couple of feet away. His eyes closed as he used every last ounce of strength he had to grab it.
"Don't make me kill you all." He was begging me. Really, truly—words catching—begging. But like Nemo and Bree, I was woefully committed to this group's unhealthy inability to let go of each other. There was no more denying it.
"I'm sorry," I said. "It’ll only be a moment."
Baz tipped the phone on its side. If I’d waited only a few more minutes, I was certain I’d have been too late.
“Fuck,” Baz said, an uncharacteristic break in his voice like a sob caught in his throat. He clicked the button and dropped the phone.
Something in the door clicked. Bree and Nemo were staring at me in absolute disbelief. Looking away, I walked up beside them. Nemo squeezed my shoulder, then, with a deep breath, he opened the door.
Baz flinched as it swung open. He stared at the ceiling, looking miserable. There was no time for hesitating. Bree and Nemo flew to his side, lying down beside him. I held my breath and stood at their feet.
“This isn’t the end,” Nemo rasped.
“Always with your false promises,” Baz gritted out, but Nemo no longer responded. Baz slid his gloved hand in Bree’s. She didn’t move. He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes. Wet lines slid down his face.
“Et tu, Orson?” Baz finally rasped. And then fixed his gaze directly on me. Blackness blinded me as searing heat exploded in my head. I dropped to the ground and took a deep breath of tainted air.
“Bise,” Baz whispered, barely a voice left at all.
EPILOGUE
HI, FRANK
Baz
Iwas wearing nothing but tight boxer briefs as I swung Frank around in my room, a smooth dance between friends—nothing gay. Although suddenly, I wondered why that would matter. My fingers gently grazed his cheek, feeling the texture of his skin against mine.
He wasn’t a very lively dance partner, but I was willing to forgive him, considering Frank was a corpse. I purred Dean Martin’s Sway.
“Shut the fuck up!” Gary wailed through the wall. He secretly loved it. I had a feeling.
I swung Frank around in a sweeping waltz—or at least what I imagined one might look like—passing in front of the heavily barred window. Through the thick iron and reinforced chicken wire, I saw a white van pull up to the building. Frank was quickly dropped from my hold and crumpled to a dead flop on the ground. I stepped on his face so that I could press my cheek into the window bars. Frank didn’t mind.
Considering I was the only person with a window in this place, I knew I was the only one witnessing what was going on outside. One of the many benefits of being the deadliest thing in this fucked up little asylum was all the little allowances I got.
The van’s backdoors burst open, and two orderlies pushed a passed-out girl from the back. She was strapped up in a straitjacket and anchored to a utility dolly. It was very Hannibal Lecter. Especially since they did indeed have a mask strapped to her mouth as if she’d bite their faces off.
My fingers wrapped around and gripped the bars, my gaze straining through a good half-inch of bulletproof plexiglass as my eyes widened. It was hard to make out much of her from here, but one thing was easy to see—she had deep red hair that hung down all the way to her hips.
I sucked in a sharp breath and flew back from the window as if it had burned me. Shit, that hair…
“Looks like Bree’s,” Frank said. I shot him a confused look.
