by Aella Black
I didn’t answer.
“Guess that’s a yes.”
“Yeah, we thought they’d killed you. Is that what you want to hear?” I snapped.
“Is that what you were hoping?” He didn’t sound mad, just genuinely curious.
We lapsed into silence while I considered this. Did I wish him dead? Yes, he’d taken a life without a second thought—two lives, including mine. But did I believe that the punishment should fit the crime? A life for a life? I honestly wasn’t sure.
“I thought they’d kill me, too,” he finally said when I never responded. “Strange sense of morality these people have, rewarding somebody for killing.”
We were just about to walk through a doorway that led to my cell block when Wolf suddenly reached for me and grabbed my arm. “Let’s move!”
I flinched, pulling away, but his grip tightened hard enough to leave a bruise. Growling, he tugged me down the block.
My heartbeat drummed in my ears. Was he angry because he thought I wished he were dead? Or was he mad at himself for killing Oscar?
I looked around. There was no one else I could see. The area was dark, and the other inmates all appeared to be sleeping.
Maybe not anymore. Wolf wasn’t exactly being quiet.
Fear spiked through me, knowing that he could kill me again at any moment. I didn’t’ think my body could recover from a third round.
But he continued dragging me while my feet tried to keep up. When we reached my cell, Wolf wasted no time opening it and shoving me inside. My shoulder banged against the door, causing another bruise I’d see in the mirror tomorrow. After locking me in, he stood staring, a look of disgust on his face. I’d seen this look before. That day in the library, while he was choking me to death. At least there were bars between us this time.
“You think you’re better than me?” Wolf spat. “No one is. Least of all, you.”
My cheeks flamed, and I was grateful for the near-darkness. I knew I wasn’t good enough. Memories of my mother reminded me of that every day. And even Xander had pointed out to everyone at Lansing that I couldn’t take care of myself.
Maybe it was the bars that made me bolder, because there was no good reason I should have mouthed off to Wolf right then. “What, now you’re eighteen and a guard, and suddenly you’re a real man who thinks you’re better than everyone else?”
Wolf’s lip curled up on one side. Like he was happy I’d snapped at him.
I fought back a shiver. He was going to make me pay for that later. “Something like that,” he said cryptically.
Lucy stirred, and Wolf’s gaze cut in her direction. Then he winked at me before walking away. My lungs deflated, and I grabbed the bars to keep from collapsing to the ground.
“What’s he got against you?”
I assumed the question was rhetorical, so I snatched up my nightclothes and headed for the bathroom. I didn’t want to talk to her. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I was still trying to figure out what had just happened.
Because that was some serious Jekyll and Hyde stuff right there. One minute, Wolf and I were talking like normal human beings. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, he became the monster that haunted my dreams on more than one occasion.
Maybe Wolf had a mental illness. Lots of people did, and he could have had it before coming into his power. My parents had told me our supernatural abilities revealed themselves when we hit puberty. I knew little about mental illness, but it made sense the two events coinciding could cause his to develop. Maybe that had even made it worse.
Either way, I needed to steer clear. For my sanity… and my safety.
I got ready for bed, avoiding the bathroom mirror while I did it. I didn’t need to see myself to know I looked like death. Then I sluggishly made my way to bed, curled into a ball and fell asleep.
Smoke fills my lungs. I cough and rasp and try to pull in clean air, but there is none. My chest burns, my eyes sting, and I can’t see a thing.
“Phoebe!” someone yells. The voice is vaguely familiar and distorted. I stretch my hands in front of my face, trying to touch something—anything—in the hazy darkness.
“Hello?” I choke out. I doubt they can even hear me.
“Phoebe, baby, help me!”
Dad.
I lunge forward, tripping. I’m sprawled out on the ground when I realize I can breathe just the tiniest bit better down here. “Dad! Where are you?” I call out, louder.
“I’m here, Phoebe. Hurry!”
I swivel to the left on my knees. His voice is coming from a different direction. I cough again, unable to catch my breath. “Where are you, Dad?” I repeat.
“Hurry, Phoebe. I don’t have much time.”
His voice is now coming from the right. I growl in frustration. “Dad!” I yell, tears streaking down my face.
“Phoebe!” He sounds panicked now. I know, because his voice sounds the same as mine.
“Dad!” I inhale a deep breath and scramble to my feet. Then I run.
I’m barreling into the darkness, inhaling so much smoke I can taste ash in my mouth. I pause and call for him again.
No answer.
Desperation builds within me. What happened to him? Why can’t I find him?
The silhouette of a man appears in the haze ahead. I barrel toward it. “Dad!”
The closer I get, the thicker the smoke, but I keep running. My oxygen levels are lower, but my spirits soar higher as I run straight into the arms of the man waiting for me. He wraps his arms around my body, and as much as I crave my father’s embrace, this is not it.
I pull back and finally get a good look at the man who just held me. Stumbling backward, I cough out a pitiful scream.
Mr. Fletcher stands before me, a wide grin on his chiseled-in-stone face.
“It’s too late, Phoebe. For him and for you.”
Then he plunges a scalpel into my heart.
6
Xander
“All this sparring stuff is a waste of time,” Venom said with a yawn.
We were going through our usual morning routine at hyper-speed, and he was unusually chatty. I hadn’t seen Phoebe since the death match yesterday, so I was unusually irritable. Not the best combination.
“You think?” I pulled my shoes from beneath the bed and put them on.
“Take me, for instance,” he said, still pulling on his jumper. “They don’t need me to fight. If they don’t know by now my venom works, they’re complete idiots. All they need to do is take it… for whatever. I’d be much more useful that way.”
“You go ahead. Tell them that when it’s your turn to fight,” I said, heading for the bathroom. “I’d love to see what they say.”
It was blessedly silent while we waited for the doors to be unlocked. I’d just finished drying my hands when I heard the distinct sound of spitting. Walking out of the bathroom, I saw Venom lying on his back on the bed. He was spitting venom onto the ceiling. “I can make it go far now,” he said when he noticed me staring.
“I’d prefer you didn’t spit deadly venom in our cell,” I grumbled.
At the morning march, I spotted Phoebe right away, and relief washed over me. But it was only temporary.
Her eyes were bloodshot with dark circles under them, and she looked like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. And yet—she also appeared as if a slight breeze would blow her away. Meanwhile, I walked in pointless circles, unable to do anything. I couldn’t even get close enough to ask her if she’s okay.
While I walked, Venom’s words caught up to me. I was such an idiot. He should definitely not offer his poison-producing service to these scumbags. If he did, they would surely find a way to use it against us. I’d been tired and cranky, but I should have told him it was a bad idea. Instead, I encouraged him. Next time we were in our cell, I’d set things straight.
Because wasn’t that why Phoebe and I needed to keep her secret safe? If the SCC discovered ways of exploiting our powers, there was n
o telling what would happen to us. I wasn’t sure how they could “take” my super strength, but if anyone could find a way, they could.
At breakfast, I got lucky and found Phoebe at the end of the long food line—alone. This was a rarity, because one or more of our friends were always around. I took advantage of the opportunity to talk to her without an audience and joined her in line.
Her back was to me, so I reached out and touched the back of her arm. She whipped around, wrapping her arms around one another. Like a hug. Or a protective measure.
I hadn’t meant to startle her. In hindsight, I should have called her name, since everyone else calls her by her nickname. “I just wanted to see if you’re okay,” I assured her.
“I’m alive, aren’t I?” Phoebe rubbed her thin arms as if she were cold. I hated not having a jacket to give her.
She turned back around, and I moved next to her. She looked at me and sighed. “You shouldn’t have tried to stop the fight.”
“Yes, I should have.” This close, I could see the fatigue, not only in her eyes but all over her face. “It was wrong, and everyone knew it. Someone had to say something.”
“Well, that someone didn’t have to be you,” she said.
I tensed. “Who should it have been… Dane? Because if I recall, he was the one holding me back.” Something I would never forgive him for, by the way.
Phoebe’s eyes flashed. “Leave him out of it. In fact, you need to stay out of it too.” Then she angled her body away from me in an obvious attempt to end the conversation.
Maybe it was for the best, since I was probably going to say something I’d regret. Whatever happened to her after the match must have been bad. And maybe it wasn’t just physical. She’d endured the same death her mother did. That had to have done a number on her.
Then it occurred to me. Phoebe hadn’t had lunch or dinner with us yesterday. Had she eaten at all? It was possible she was “hangry,” a term my mother used to say when I was grouchy and needed to eat.
I left Phoebe alone… for now. Only because, like it or not, we were going to spend the next twenty minutes hashing things out. I’d already spotted the table where our friends sat—as well as an empty one across the room.
After we were given our trays, I led us to the empty table. Phoebe looked around. Taking a seat, I said, “Please sit with me.” Only me. “I want to talk to you.”
With obvious reluctance, she sat, but wasted no time digging into her food. She was hungry. Or maybe she was stuffing her face so she wouldn’t have to talk to me.
I smiled a little at that thought.
“You want this?” I held out a banana. “I don’t like them,” I lied.
She eyed the piece of fruit like it was a dessert at a five-star restaurant. “Sure, thanks.”
I shrugged. I’d started sneaking some of my food to Birdie since the portions had been reduced. The little girl needed it more than I did, and right now Phoebe obviously needed it.
As I handed it to her, our fingers touched, and I swore I felt it all the way down in my toes. Our eyes locked, and hers seemed to soften. It felt good to do something for her, even if it was just giving her a stupid piece of fruit.
I watched her eat the banana while trying to make it look like I wasn’t watching her. After I’d finished my oatmeal and she’d polished off all her food, I asked, “So where were you yesterday?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized I sounded like a jealous boyfriend. “We missed you at meals,” I added quickly.
Phoebe eyed me. Then she glanced around quickly before leaning forward to talk. “When I came back, Mr. Fletcher was there.”
Anger spiked through me. “What did he want?”
“He wanted to know about my parents. What they told me when we were together,” she clarified.
“What d’you tell him?” I asked.
She hesitated, looking around again. Guards were scattered throughout the room, as they always were. I spotted Wolf standing behind Phoebe, his predatory gaze aimed her way. He was well out of earshot, but I still wanted to hurdle the table and put my fist through his face.
Phoebe leaned in a little closer. “I didn’t tell him much. Only that I’d just found my dad. Not that he was unconscious when I found him,” she added in a whisper.
“That’s it?”
She cringed. “I had to give him something, so I said my parents told me that we’re all science experiments. That I knew they’d altered our DNA. I figured that wasn’t common knowledge, but it wasn’t something we couldn’t have figured out on our own either.”
“And he was okay with that?”
“Yeah, seemed to be. Honestly, he was more concerned with whatever it is my parents knew.” She paused, and then, to my surprise, she smiled. The first smile I’d seen since before her mom was killed and Fletcher arrived. “Or rather, know. Mr. Fletcher told me that my Dad is still alive.”
“Really?” I wasn’t sure if I was more surprised he was alive, or that Fletcher told her. “That’s great, Phoebe. Did he say where he is?”
“No. And he’s definitely still in danger. Just before—”
Phoebe stopped mid-sentence, and her eyes shifted away from mine. She was hiding something. “Just before, what?” I prompted.
She sighed. “He killed me again. That’s why I missed dinner.”
I cursed… loudly.
“Xander!” Phoebe said, putting two fingers to my lips. She pulled her hand back immediately and glanced around to see if the guards had seen.
I couldn’t care less. I also couldn’t appreciate Phoebe’s touch because I was pissed.
“What did he do?” I asked between clenched teeth.
“It’s not a big deal. I’m here, I’m alive, and, more importantly, so is my dad.” She really sounded happy… or happier, anyway.
But no wonder she looked like she was going to fall over this morning. She probably was.
I let out a breath. “Okay. All right. Is there anything else I need to know?”
Her eyes flicked away again. I sighed. “Phoebe, please. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me everything.”
I could see the moment her hackles went up. “First of all, you can’t help me. When I said you need to stay out of it, I meant it.” Ouch, that hurt.
Not that I would actually do that. Especially since I had the feeling Phoebe was only trying to protect me. Thanks, but no thanks. I could protect myself.
“And second…” she continued. “If you must know, Mr. Fletcher wanted to know if my dad asked me to contact someone, and what our plans were after we left. As if we had time for that,” she muttered.
“Huh.” I ignored her snark and mulled over her words. Then I sucked in a breath. “This is the best news I’ve heard all week.”
“It is?” Phoebe asked, her nose scrunching adorably.
I leaned in and whispered, “Think about it. Cathy got that note. She’s the one person who can communicate with the rest of us. And now Fletcher’s worried we’re going to contact someone?”
Phoebe nodded slowly. “That means there must be someone for him to be worried about.”
“Exactly.” I rubbed my hands together and then placed them flat on the table. “Someone on the outside knows what’s going on, and they’re trying to help. They must have at least one person on the inside. I just wish I knew who it was.”
Looking thoughtful, she said, “Me too.”
A rush of elation flooded my chest. Finally. We weren’t alone in this anymore. Not that I’d felt alone having friends here who always had my back, but after one failed escape attempt and a riot, it was obvious we were in over our heads. And I didn’t care what form that help came in, I only hoped it came soon.
“So, uh, what’d I missed after the match?” Phoebe’s hands were on the table, her fingertips less than a hand width from mine.
“Fletcher let us go,” I said, sliding my arms forward… just a little. “Fang found me later and apologized. I told him you were the one he nee
ded to talk to.”
“He already did,” she said, her fingers inching toward mine.
I swallowed. “When? I’ve barely seen you.”
She shrugged. “During the fight.” As I scooted my fingers a little more, she said, “I hope you forgave him, Xander. He made it as quick as he could, and it wasn’t like he had a choice.”
I swallowed again. Partly thinking of the moment Fang “made it as quick as he could.” The other part was hearing her say my name. It made me want to close the one-inch gap still separating our hands.
“It wasn’t for me to forgive,” I said softly. I couldn’t say whether I’d have done the same in Fang’s position, because I wasn’t in it. I hoped I never had to choose between my parents and the girl sitting across from me.
“We can’t let them divide us,” she said, closing the gap. Finally. The tips of our fingers were touching, and all at once, I knew that wouldn’t be enough.
Slowly but purposefully, I slid my hands over hers. Phoebe’s hands tensed, and her eyes widened in alarm.
I shook my head. “They won’t divide us. And everyone here saw me offer to take your place. You think they don’t know how I feel about you?”
Her hands relaxed beneath mine. “And how’s that?” she said, her voicing cracking just the tiniest bit. It was so cute. She was so cute. Even exhausted, she looked amazing to me.
“Phoebe, I—”
The bells signaling lunch was over rang in what had to have been the worst timing in the world. I sighed, and Phoebe frowned.
“Later,” I said. “We’ll talk again, okay?”
She nodded. What other choice did we have? Telling Phoebe I’d liked her since kindergarten wasn’t the kind of news you dropped on the way out of the cafeteria to scrub toilets.
The guards divided us into our various groups, and, fortunately, toilets weren’t on the agenda today. The bad news was that none of my friends were with me on rec room cleaning duty.
The rec room would have been filthy, but without free time, there wasn’t much to clean. I was responsible for disinfecting puzzles, which was pointless considering no one would get to play with them.
