“How did you know?” I whisper.
“I already told you,” he says, pushing another wet lock of hair out of his eyes. “I pay attention. Besides, I know what it’s like to be left behind. I always loved it when my brother brought me something after being gone for a while. It’s nice to be remembered.”
I don’t have time to process this admission.
He sweeps my leg so fast I fly backward with a startled cry, my head moments from hitting the pavement before I remember to shift and roll out of reach. I launch to my feet badly, even as adrenaline courses through my veins, then I unzip the neck of my costume and tuck the chocolate bar into the too-tight catsuit, fight-or-flight responses awakening in my body.
I try to catch my breath, then take a step back.
James takes a step closer.
I’ve seen him fight. I know what he’s capable of. I watched him take on a troop of soldiers unarmed, slaughtering his way ruthlessly through bodies. I watched him tear open his own flesh to dig bullets out of his injured body. I watched him sustain near-death injuries from an explosion that broke both his head and his back. I once personally slit his throat and, still, he didn’t die.
I inch away slowly, my heart beating faster.
Once more, I underestimated James. I didn’t account for him when I was making my escape plans, and I should’ve seen him coming. Now the only way to evade him is to badly injure him—and yet, considering his healing abilities, there’s no guarantee an injury will suffice. The only way to take James out is to kill him ruthlessly; he’d have to be hacked to pieces or else dealt a blow so lethal his healing powers would never have a chance to kick in.
I already know I won’t do it.
Killing people was the crown jewel of my job. I spent my lifetime training to slaughter in merciless, efficient methods. I did what I was ordered to do and I did it without complaintso that my sister might live, so that she might know a future without pain. I did it even as we were starved and tortured, even as my soul turned to ash.
But now, for the first time in my life, I’m not taking orders from anyone. The moment I realized Klaus had sentenced my sister to death, I decided my last act as an executioner would be to take out the system that created me—even if it meant destroying myself in the process.
James takes another step closer.
This time, I don’t move.
I allow myself an impulsive second to really look at him, recommitting him to the memories that haunt my dreams. The slashes of his brows pull together above his eyes as I watch him, his irises dark and luminous in the dusky light. Rivulets snake down the hard planes of his face, his hair inky, dripping. His jaw tenses, his lips soft and wet with rainwater.
I watch the movement in his throat, spellbound.
“Why do you always look at me like that?” he says roughly. “What are you thinking?”
All these years, I thought there was nothing left of my humanity save a scrap that lived on only for Clara.
Maybe I was wrong.
Maybe the ashes of who I was will cultivate the soil of who I want to be. Even now I feel the press of a tender shoot pushing up through the darkness of my soul, searching for the light that floods my body only when James is around.
I don’t want it to die.
And no one will ever force me to kill again.
I need to get the vial, and then I need to get back to the Ark before it’s too late. There has to be another way out of here. I need to get around him. Outrun him—
“Whoa, okay,” James says, his voice rising in warning. “Now I know what you’re thinking—and I’m telling you, it’s a terrible idea.”
“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“Yes, I do,” he says angrily. “And you can’t run from me, Rosabelle. If you run from me they’ll kill you.”
“How did you—” I take a firm step back, unsettled by his prescience. “I’ll take my chances. I’m not going to fight you.”
“Why not?” He steps forward, closing the distance between us. “Because you’re so sure you can beat me?”
“Yes,” I say, then hesitate. “I mean—no, you’re an excellent fighter— It’s just—I’m afraid I might kill you by accident.”
Surprise widens his eyes before he laughs, his gaze warming with something almost like affection. “All that murdering muscle memory?”
