She smiles.
I open the door a bit more.
“I brought this for Warner,” she says, stage-whispering. “I heard he was hungry.” Her smile is so big you could probably see it from Mars. I have to make a real effort not to roll my eyes.
“Thanks. I’ll take th—”
“Oh,” she says, jerking the package out of reach. “I thought I could deliver it to him personally. You know, just to be sure it’s being delivered to the right person.” She beams.
This time, I actually roll my eyes.
Reluctantly, I pull open the door, stepping aside to let her enter. I turn to tell Warner that another member of his fan club is here to take a long look at his green eyes, but in the second it takes me to move, I hear her scream. The container of food crashes to the ground, spaghetti noodles and red sauce spilling everywhere.
I spin around, stunned.
Warner has the girl pinned to the wall, his hand around her throat. “Who sent you here?” he says.
She struggles to break free, her feet kicking hard against the wall, her cries choked and desperate.
My head is spinning.
I blink and Warner’s got her on the floor, on her knees. His boot is planted in the middle of her back, both of her arms bent backward, locked in his grip. He twists. She cries out.
“Who sent you here?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, gasping for breath.
My heart is pounding like crazy.
I have no idea what the hell just happened, but I know better than to ask questions. I remove the Glock tucked inside my waistband and aim it in her direction. And then, just as I’m beginning to wrap my head around the fact that this is an ambush—and likely from someone here, from inside the Sanctuary—I notice the food begin to move.
Three massive scorpions begin to scuttle out from underneath the noodles, and the sight is so disturbing I nearly throw up and pass out at the same time. I’ve never seen scorpions in real life.
Breaking news: they’rehorrifying.
I thought I wasn’t afraid of spiders, but this is like if spiders were on crack, like if spiders were very, very large and kind of see-through and wore armor and had huge, venomous stingers on one end just primed and ready to murder you. The creatures make a sharp turn, and all three of them head straight for Warner.
I let out a panicked gasp of breath. “Uh, bro—not to, um, freak you out or anything, but there are, like, three scorpions headed straight toward y—”
Suddenly, the scorpions freeze in place.
Warner drops the girl’s arms and she scrambles away so fast her back slams against the wall. Warner stares at the scorpions. The girl stares, too.
The two of them are having a battle of wills, I realize, and it’s easy for me to figure out who’s going to win. So when the scorpions begin to move again—this time, toward her—I try not to pump my fist in the air.
The girl jumps to her feet, her eyes wild. “Who sent you?” Warner asks again.
She’s breathing hard now, still staring at the scorpions as she backs farther into a corner. They’re climbing up her shoes now.
“Who?” Warner demands.
“Your father sent me,” she says breathlessly. Shins. Knees. Scorpions on her knees. Oh my God, scorpions on her knees. “Anderson sent me here, okay? Call them off?!”
“Liar.”
“It was him, I swear!”
“You were sent here by a fool,” Warner says, “if you were led to believe you could lie to me repeatedly without repercussion. And you are yourself a fool if you believe I will be anything close to merciful.”
