Chapter 44

FORTY-FOUR

AMETHYST

My consciousness floats from the confines of a heavy sedative, bringing with it the sound of gentle beeping. Every muscle aches like I’ve run a marathon, my skin burns, and my insides are wrung dry. It’s as if someone took out my batteries and left me out in the desert to die.

Memories float back to my awareness like pollen. The autopsy room, the weed jungle, the bus… And Delta. I tried to fight him, but he was too strong.

My heart splinters. He brought me back.

I wait for Xero to wrap his arms around my waist and give me a summary of what I missed, but all I hear is the rapid beat of my pulse. If he isn’t here, helping me sift through my jumbled thoughts, then they must have drugged me with an anti-hallucinogenic to keep us apart. My chest squeezes. I can’t endure Delta’s punishment alone.

Xero?

When there’s still no answer, I crack open an eye. I’m in an infirmary. It’s mostly dark, with moonlight streaming in through its windows.

The walls are white and sterile, but at least they’re not padded. And I’m lying on a hospital bed instead of the floor. Thick straps secure my body to the hard mattress, but I couldn’t move right now even if the room was on fire.

I glance at an array of machines with bright LED displays that make my eyes sting. Whatever happened between being captured at the bus and now has to be traumatic enough for me to need life support.

Delta must have moved me to another location because I compromised the shoot by calling the police. He must have punished me because my body feels like hell.

I wait for Xero to fill in the details, but he’s silent.

Pain lances through my chest, and tears sting my eyes. Losing him is like being naked in the face of a storm. Xero was my buffer from reality. The part of me that was strong enough to witness the abuse, while I drifted away to where it was safe.

Footsteps approach from the other side of the door. My stomach churns with dread, and my heart tries to crawl through the bars of its cage. Cold adrenaline floods my system, powering my muscles, which tense in anticipation of an attack.

The door swings open, and I close my eyes, not wanting to lock gazes with Dolly or Delta or whoever’s come to drag me to my fate.

“Are you awake, little ghost?” I hear Xero ask.

My heart skips. Did he return? I wait for him to read my mind and answer, but he remains silent. When warm fingers brush over my forehead to tuck away a stray curl, my breath quickens.

It’s Xero.

Why isn’t he updating me on what’s happening? By now, he’ll have worked out a strategy or at least asked what I want to do next. He’s just hovering at the side of my bed, breathing hard.

“Open your eyes,” he says, his voice so gentle that I could cry.

I peep through my lashes and stare up at Delta. He’s shaved off his beard, but it’s unmistakably him.

Alarm rips through my chest, making the machines beeping around me shriek. Dread crushes my lungs until I force out the air with a scream. Eyes widening, Delta steps back, presumably for a syringe.

I thrash within my restraints, powered by the last vestiges of my strength. I can’t let it happen again. Not while I’m still conscious. Not while I still draw breath.

The door slams open. A dark-haired woman in a white coat charges in, looking nothing like Dolly. She’s short, like me, yet she places her hands on Delta’s chest and manages to shove him out of the room.

As soon as the door shuts behind him, the pressure on my chest lightens, and I draw in a noisy breath. Shudders run through my frame and settle in my trembling fingertips. Before I can even process what just happened, she returns to my side.

“Amethyst?” the woman says.

She’s pretty, with a heart-shaped face, soft features, and loose waves that cascade down to her shoulders. Something about her is familiar, but I don’t have the mental bandwidth to pinpoint what. Even though her features are sympathetic, I can’t help but recoil at her touch.

What if Dolly has disguised herself as a medic? When I stare into her deep brown eyes, I don’t get the usual terror response. She’s someone else. Maybe another of Delta’s employees?

“My name is Isabel,” she says. “And you’re in a safe house on the outskirts of Beaumont City. I’m here to help with your recovery. Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”

My brow furrows. How can I be safe if I’m with Delta?

Her eyes soften. “Amethyst, you’re back in New Alderney.”

I swallow hard, not believing a single word. Delta is a murderer, a trafficker, a corruptor of children, a rapist, and a thousand other things that don’t equate to safety.

As the machines continue to beep and whirr, she checks the monitors, her soft hands loosening the straps around my chest.

“We had to restrain and sedate you earlier because you could have hurt yourself and others,” she murmurs. “We did this for your protection.”

“I’m feeling better now,” I lie through clenched teeth. “Could you release the straps? Please.”

She stares into my eyes for a heartbeat longer than needed and searches my face as if trying to work out whether I’m sane. I stare back, doing everything I can to convey that I’m not a threat.

Finally, she says, “I need to make sure it’s safe to release you. Can you tell me more about how you’re feeling right now?”

My jaw tightens. “Is this a new form of psychological torture? What the hell does Delta want from me now?”

“Delta?” she asks, her features falling.

“You’re working for him, right? Is this a new way for him to crack my skull?”

Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “No, no! Amethyst, you’re far away from him. Xero brought you back.”

Hearing his name is a knife to the chest. It pierces my heart, making it bleed streams of guilt. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the unbearable truth, and loosen streams of tears. He’s gone.

All that remains of him is what weighs on my conscience.

“Xero is dead,” I choke out through a sob, my body shaking with grief.

“He was just in the room a minute ago,” she says.

“Do you think I don’t know that was Delta without his beard? And you’re one of his lackeys. Is this another film shoot?”

Sighing, she places a hand on my arm. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Isabel’s footsteps retreat across the room, then the door swings open. As soon as it shuts, I crack open an eye. It’s time to escape before she changes tactics. Delta still needs me alive so I can spill Xero’s secrets. The moment he discovers their base in the catacombs, he’ll record my grisly death on camera.

Straining against the newly loosened straps, I pull one hand free. I reach down the side of the cot, my fingers brushing against the cool metal frame as I fumble for something—anything—that might give me an edge.

My fingers find the buckle on the strap securing my chest. With trembling hands, I fiddle with the metal fastenings, finally managing to slip my second hand free. Liberating my shoulders takes seconds. Once they’re released, I work on the strap around my waist.

I sit up, my vision blurring as blood rushes from my head. As I’m freeing my legs, the door swings open again, and Xero walks in with his wet, platinum hair sticking to his face.