I remained there, hands brutalizing the furniture as I studied her, my heart racing in ways I didn’t want to acknowledge. The moment she leaned away from the wall and stretched, suited arms lifting and gloved fingers reaching for the ceiling, I felt something inside me restructure.
What the hell was wrong with me?
36
LUCY
I blinked awake, feeling the hard wall against my back and the strange, smothering grip of the suit. Why did it feel like it had contracted around me as I slept? A second skin, but not my own. This one was made for a person two sizes too small, given to me by mistake.
I took a deep breath, inhaling through my nose and slowly exhaling through my mouth. I hoped the calming exercise would chase away the illusion that the protective gear had shrunk, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. My chest felt increasingly weighted. My heartbeat sluggish. Maybe if I got up, I’d feel better.
At first, I didn’t move. I felt out of sync, like I needed time for my brain and body to get along again. Then I stretched, shoulders protesting as I lifted my arms and wiggled my gloved fingers.I hadn’t gotten as strong as I believed back at Eros. My body still had a lot of healing to do.
Rarely used muscles in my arms and legs hurt today, probably from dragging the stupid mattress. But I hadn’t felt safe in the center of the room, so naked and exposed. With my back to the wall facing the door, I’d gotten some sense offalse security. Rationally, I knew that any one of the Alphas could stride through the door, do whatever they wanted, and I’d be powerless to stop them. Yet, sometimes, the illusion of protection was enough to survive. And I had survived, for one night at least.
Shifting to my knees, I slowly crawled off the bed. My palms slapped, one after another, against the hardwoods. My knees followed suit with muffled thuds. After a pause to catch my breath, I pushed myself up from the cold floor. Every part of me protested as I shifted my weight. Why did life keep reminding me that even the smallest victories—like moving a stupid mattress—came with a price?
The house beyond the room was incredibly quiet, and the stillness felt eerie. The stench of gasoline had faded enough I could no longer detect it through the suit’s filtration. It probably still lingered in the air, just not as potent as before. I moved towards the window, crossing my arms and wishing I could touch my own skin.
The paralyzed house, without even the hum of heat blowing through vents right now, reminded me too much of lonely hours spent in hospitals. Though, then, I’d had the beep and whirr of IV pumps to keep me company. I’d had a button to press when I needed help. I had parents who visited me sometimes… until they didn’t anymore.
This room was a nothing room. A void. Isolation that pushed Brightfield out of first place. Was this what people meant when they said, “what if the cure is worse than the sickness?”
Standing in front of the window, I studied the compound outside. Glass between me and the world again.Some things never change.
The property was large, cut off from Vegas by a tall fence topped with razor wire. Evidence of DemonX existed everywhere I looked. A line of motorcycles. A target, riddled with puncturewounds. A half-covered muscle car, its exposed red paint glittering under the dawn light. Where did I belong in this high-octane world? How did I fit?
The quick answers werenowhere, andI don’t.
The slow rebellious answers, still holding onto a sliver of hope, weresomewhere,andI’ll figure it out.
The uncomfortable hush lingered for an interminable time, long enough that I thought maybe time wasn’t moving at all. Then I finally heard the house wake up.
It didn’t stir to life slowly.
This home thundered awake without warning.
A bang. A slam. A shout.
Alpha voices layered over one another, creating a jarring song.
I moved from the window, crossing the distance to the door. Pressing my helmet against the thick wood, I strained to hear. But I couldn’t make out more than one or two muffled words.
“Stupid helmet,” I muttered. Yesterday it had let the reek of gasoline inside, but now it didn’t seem to want a single word to slip past.
I looked down at the indicator light. Still red, still warning. But… I’d already taken the helmet off once. Would twice really make a difference?
Before I could decide, the voices grew closer and louder. Probably by design, their words became crystal clear.
“Have you ever seen anyone so goddamn pitiful?” one of them snarled, and I flinched.
“Sure. Remember the time Fallon was in a full body cast?” The second voice rang out playfully, casual cruelty lacing each syllable.
“Bring that incident up one more time, brother, and I’ll put you in a full body cast.” These words were nearly growled. That had to be Fallon.
I gritted my teeth, helpless to stop the rush of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. Did they not understand how harsh their words could cut? A suffocating anger rose inside of me, a mix of humiliation and rage.
I couldn’t take this. My fingers moved to the helmet clasps, urgency gripping me as I teetered on the edge of temptation. Maybe just a quick release; just to breathe properly.No, I thought fiercely,Leave it on. What if taking it off early makes the acclimation longer? You need to get stronger so you can make these men really see you.I dropped my hands, balling them into fists.
