I want to believe him. I want to think that there’s some way out of this, that love and determination is enough?—
—and that’s when the white door opens and Maverick is shoved back into the cell.
He stumbles, head bowed. His body nearly drops. Catching himself in time, he plants his palms on his knees, taking in big gulps of air as though he’s starved for it.
I push up. Chase hesitates for a moment, wanting me to cling to him, but as I say Maverick’s name softly, he knows better than to let his jealousy shine through at this moment.
Maverick doesn’t respond.
I shift on the bed. “James?”
His head jerks up, and I see his eyes.
His eyes?—
I don’t know what the Doctor did to him when they took him from our cell. But, now that he’s returned to the cell, there’s no denying that they changed him, too.
Because his eyes?
They’re completely black.
The cell smells of sex. Even without his increased sense of smell—if a failed lurker has one—he wouldn’t be able to mistake it for anything else.
Throw in our rumpled clothing and the state of the formerly pristine sheets after we got done and sprawled out on one of the cots and… yeah.
I wait for Maverick to point out that something’s different about Chase and me. I wait for Chase to ask what the hell is going on with Mav’s eyes. I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten what the technician said about Maverick having taken the Injectionbefore the Turning, but getting laid seems to have put Chase in a good mood. Instead of going after Maverick, he just wrapped his arms around me, keeping me right next to him as Maverick slumped down on the other cot.
I want to tell him what happened to me. I want to let him know that I’m Hallie. At the same time, I look back on some of our interactions and I have to wonder if Mav… ifheknew.
If Jack had warned him before I left that, while I came with an antidote, I also came with way more baggage than even I would’ve guessed.
Having a mental breakdown and spending the last three months living as the twin sister that I lost in a traumatic flaming… that would definitely qualify.
I’m not better. I don’t know if I ever will be. In this fucked-up world we live in, there’s a chance that I’ll forever carry that baggage, the same way I toted a backpack and sleeping bag all over New Jersey. In the before times, I was going to school to eventually become a psychiatrist. I know better than anyone how fragile a mind can be.
Which is why I let Maverick have his space. Whatever the Doctor did had to have been as bad as what he put me through… I’m almost positive of that. He suffered, and he did that so I at least had one last moment with Chase.
He’s still with me. I know we both expected that one of the goons would tell him it was his turn to be taken to the Doctor. Only… that’s not what happened. Once Maverick was brought back, they left the three of us alone.
Who knows? It’s getting late, and though there aren’t any windows, I’ve gotten used to the rhythm of my body’s internal clock. If it’s not dark out yet, it will be soon, and I can only imagine that asshole of a Doctor and his creepy team taking a break out of torturing their “subjects” to have a quick dinner.
I don’t care. I’m not sure how much time I’ll have left with Chase. Already, it seems like I lost so much of it. Now that I know exactly who I am, it’s like we have a second lease on life together. I need him so badly that the idea of watching him walk out the door with one of those agents… I cling to him.
No one comes back. On the one hand, that means they don’t even bring us anything to eat or drink. We can sip water from the sink in our cell, but I’m sure the guys are hungry by now. Me? I’m so anxious, my stomach is twisting. I never thought I’d miss the way that the lurkers make me feel sick when they’re near, but this is so much fucking worse. I don’t know if I’ll ever eat again.
As I curl up next to Chase, I think about the sensing ability that I took for granted. It never triggered when I was around Maverick. It’s the same with everyone we’ve come across in the NRI. They all took the Injection, but because they didn’t Turn, I don’t think of them as a threat.
Great job, Hallie. I can handle lurkers. I’ve proved myself even as I pretended to be Xandra. The Doctor and his goons? I’m in way more danger than I’ve ever been.
And I’m thinking that as the front door to the cell eases inward and another agent steps into the room.
Same dark suit. Same grey tie. Same black glasses… at first glance, it seems like another one of the same agents, only with one noticeable difference: it’s a woman agent.
She’s shorter than any of the others with a thick, curvy build and her dark hair slicked back in a bun even tighter than Elissa’s. She walks like she has a pole up her back, and she turns her shielded gaze on each of us in turn.
She looks familiar. Weird that I think that. I’m pretty sure that Maverick is the first almost-lurker I’ve ever met, but as I stare at her… my jaw drops.
I knowexactlywho she is.
