For a heartbeat no one speaks. Then Ghost makes a broken noise. “Property— Wait,child? She’s fuckingpregnant?”
“She’s carryingmyblood,” Nightshade growls.
“She’s not their experiment,” I manage to force out, sickened. Sure, we’re used to things going a certain way here, and I know that Kayla’s been subjected to a little of what goes on within the walls of the asylum, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Hatchet’s been here the longest. He knows the most. And he won’t say a word about it.
But to do those things to a pregnant woman…to a child…
“Fuck.” I feel sick.
Nightshade finally looks at me, eyes wild and bright. “Then stop standing there and help me get her back.”
My jaw locks. There’s no hesitation anymore. “Tell me what you need.”
He finishes the last stitch, bandage tight and neat, then stands. “Valentine’s prepping another helicopter. We’re gone in thirty minutes.”
Ghost’s head jerks up. “You hacked the chip?”
Night shakes his head.
“So what, your plan is to waltz out, chip frying your brain, and take on whoever took her?” I demand. This is crazy. I’m all for rescuing Kayla, but we can’t do that if we’re all dead. And we will be the second we try to leave this island.
“I’ll deal with the fallout later. There has to be a way.” His voice is razor steel. “We find her, we get her back, and we end anyone who thinks she’s theirs. I have a plan but I need Bones. He has the connections we need.”
I swallow hard. My pulse is still thundering, but now it’s purpose, not panic. Ghost and I trade a look – half fear, half resolve. I sigh, teeth gritted. “Fine. But if you fry your brain, don’t expect me to scrape up the mess.”
Nightshade’s laugh is low, humourless. “I’m already dead. With Kayla gone, there’s nothing left.”
Ghost exhales shakily. “We’re all thinking it.”
He’s right. Kayla isn’t just gone. Someonetookher, and every one of us feels it like a missing limb.
She may not have been here long, but she sure as hell made an impact on us all.
We finish patching Ghost up, then haul him upright, his leg trembling but stubborn. Nightshade shoulders the door and we move, boots slapping the tiles in rhythm. The asylum’s empty sound presses in – no guards, no nurses – only the steady flicker of lights and a metallic buzz that makes my teeth ache.
“Think he’s going to hold it together?” I ask Ghost quietly, nodding towards Night. But it’s not pity in my voice. It’s hunger.
“Nightshade?” Ghost shrugs, pale. “No.”
Good.
Let him be broken. Let him be dangerous.
Let him be the kind of monster who rips this place open if it means bringing her back.
We’ll stand in the flames with him.
A LULLABY FOR MONSTERS
I Did Something Bad - Taylor Swift
Kookaburra
The first thing I remember is the sound.
Not the screaming – that came later – but the humming. Low. Tuneless. Almost tender.
A lullaby for monsters.
