“What does that mean?”
“It means sometimes I’m allowed to do regular work. Factory work.” I gather up rolls of gauze and tape from the emergency kit, a pair of tweezers. “Some of our manufacturing isn’t fully automated yet, so for a while it was my job to oversee the assembly of mini choppers. I was required to memorize not just the manual but the schematics. These,” I say, glancing around the hull, “are called PEARLs. Personal electric aerial recreational lifts. Civilian grade. I’m familiar with the military iteration because Ark Island is a militarized state. I see them everywhere. I’ve ridden in them. I know what they’re capable of.” I hesitate then, adding quietly: “I’m not a genius-level hacker. But I appreciate the compliment.”
For a full minute, James stares out the broken windshield, silent and hardly moving. I’ve never witnessed a quiet, contemplative James, and the character reversal is making me anxious. It occurs to me then that I’ve spoken more in the last several minutes than I have in years.
“I should cut off your sleeve,” I say, leaning forward. “I think your body is trying to heal itself around the bullet—”
“If I’m worth more alive than dead,” he says, moving out of reach, “why were you sent to kill me?”
“I don’t know.” Slowly, I sit back in my seat. “At the time, I wasn’t told who you were.”
He crosses his arms, wincing only slightly. “And once you found out who I was you decided to change the course of your entire life? Dumped your fiancé, abandoned your sister—”
abandoned your sister
“—walked away from a fulfilling career as a murderer— all for me? I’m flattered.”
abandoned your sister
The words catch in my head, repeating on a painful loop.
abandoned your sister
abandoned your sister
The reminder nearly rearranges me. Images of Clara attempt to crowd my mind: where she might be, what they might’ve done to her—
abandoned your sister
I shutter the thoughts desperately, withdrawing further and further inward until I fear I’ve lost my soul.
When I finally look up, I find James watching me with a fascination I’ve never felt before. Soledad only ever stared at me with suspicion; Sebastian with a mixture of longing and pity. No one has ever studied me as if I might be interesting, or worse: a real, comprehensive person. The intensity of James’s inspection makes me feel naked.
I don’t like it.
“I should really take a look at your arm,” I say, breaking the silence. “If the bullet moves—”
James stretches his neck, the action issuing cracks in the hardened blood on his face. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass,” he says. “The last time you came at me with a sharp object you slit my throat.”
Quietly, I say, “Are you going to hold that over my head forever?”
He raises his eyebrows. “The fact that youkilledme? The fact that you watched me die without remorse, then sent me off to have my organs harvested? Yes, yes, I am.”
A rare heat creeps into my cheeks, and James doesn’t miss it. He doesn’t miss anything, I’m realizing.
“But I just saved your life,” I point out. “We have a truce.”
“Fine.” A muscle tics in his jaw. “I’m going to ask you one more question, and if you answer it honestly, maybe I’ll let you take a look at my arm.”
“I really don’t want to answer any more questions.”
“And I really don’t think you’re in a position to negotiate,” he counters.
I stifle a sigh, bracing myself.
After all these years, I thought I’d be used to it: the surveillance, the interrogations, the constant suspicion, the endless threats against my life. And yet, somehow, being hated by James feels worse. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who hates many people, and I’m surprised to discover how much it bothers me to be the exception.
“All right,” I say. “What’s your question?”
