Ipull her back against me the second she starts twitching, her body jerking in my arms.
“No, no. Stop. Don’t. Please.” Her head twists against my chest. I lock her in, crushing her trembling frame to my chest until her breathing slows.
“Little one,” I whisper into her hair, dragging in her scent like I’m starving for it. Her small fingers curl into my shirt and my pulse evens out the second she clutches me.
I should let go.
But I can’t.
Not after the bathroom. Not after the way her tight little body melted under my hands—fighting me with that sharp mouth, even as her hips rolled against my fingers like the filthy little thing she is.
The pills weren’t for her. They were for me.
Because nothing works anymore. Not the gum. Not the blood. Not the fights. Nothing buther. She’s the only thing that shuts off the noise.
I bury my face in her hair again. She smells like sweat, steel, and that sweet, maddening something that’s just hers. It crawls through me, claws at me, until I’m so fucking wired I can’t tell where the obsession ends and I begin.
My muscles uncoil, my mind quiets. Just for a second, the rage stops screaming. I want to take her back to the bathroom. Lay her out on the counter and fuck her until every broken, fucked-up thought in my head goes silent.
I slide my hands and grip her fingers. Removing a roll of medical tape from my pack. I begin retaping and adjusting her finger splints. Raze slumps beside me, muttering curses, his mask hanging loose.
“You knock her out just to hold her, huh? You’re so fucked in the head it’s almost impressive.”
My fingers tighten on her hand. “Fuck off, Raze.”
“Does Arsen know his little whatever-she-is is curled up on the chest of the bastard who messed her up? Or is that your fucked secret?”
I pull her closer, caging her in with my arms. Her head fits perfectly under my chin, her hair brushing my throat. My pulse evens out for the first time in hours.
After a few minutes of silence, Raze speaks again. “You believe Alistair? That he didn’t give up the bunker location?”
“No.” Alistair’s been a snake for years—he’d do anything for Sterling’s approval.
“So what now? Sit around until he sells out the next place too?”
I rub my temple. “We’ll stash him in a separate bunker. Don’t give him the real location.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “You think he’s worth that much trouble? Why not just kill him?”
“Then we’ll kill him.” I shrug. “But Arsen’s convinced he’s useful. Until he’s back from Facility 42, we stick to the plan. IfAlistair’s holding anything back, I’ll carve it out of him until he’s begging for a death I won’t give. Until then, he stays on ice where he can’t fuck anything else up.”
I lean my head back against the wall, shutting my eyes. Too wired to sleep. Too empty not to try.
“What kind of condition do you think Lev is gonna be in?” Raze mutters, stripping off his vest.
“Dead.”
“Shame. Another legend down the drain. Fuck Sterling.”
I don’t answer.
Because I know.
I know what a place like 42 does. The smell of blood and bleach. The hum of the lights that never shut off. The silence between screams. You don’t come back from that. You rot from the inside out until there’s nothing left but a hollow thing that wears your face.
Arlo doesn’t understand that the father she remembers is already gone.
I press my nose into her hair and inhale until my lungs burn, forcing the flashbacks down. The edges still bleed in—the sounds, the taste of copper and fear. Her face twitches when my lips brush her forehead. My thumb traces the stitches running down her back. My chest tightens.
