Chapter 37

Chapter 37

It feelslike hours before Rhys returns to the room, but it could’ve only been minutes. In spite of the blanket wrapped around me, the frigid cold in my bones persists, and I lie on the bed, shivering in the dark.

He slips beneath the blanket, and the heat that radiates from his body warms my muscles, as he reaches for me. I hesitate to turn at first, to surrender to that warmth.

He’ll know, though. He’ll think something’s wrong, and I’m not ready to tell him something is very wrong.

So I turn to face him. The metallic scent of his skin is a comfort, and I nuzzle my face into his chest. I’ve spent most of my life distancing myself from others, but right now, I just need the stillness. To feel grounded long enough to settle my head.

Thick arms wrap around my shoulders pulling me deeper into his warmth. “You’re trembling.” The low rumble of his voice vibrates against my cheek.

“Just cold,” I lie, tucking my arms between our bodies. Safely pressed against him, I dare the question lingering in my mind. “Did you kill them?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I know the one. He’s a high-ranking soldier. His father runs the show at Calico.” He’s undoubtedly talking about Ivan. “Killing him would bring war on us.”

“So, why bring him back here?”

“Tripp wanted revenge for Crank. He refused to leave him there. He wanted blood.”

“You didn’t?”

“I made a promise to you, Wren. Not to do anything stupid. Killing him would put you at risk. I’m not willing to gamble your life.”

“And if I wasn’t here?”

“He’d already be dead.”

“So, what will you do with him?”

“Wait. Try to strike a deal. Maybe Ericsson and Szolen will be willing to barter for his life.”

“Barter for what?”

“The ones they took tonight. We were too late. There were too many of them. All the women were taken. They didn’t bother to leave anyone behind this time.”

“I might have an idea. But it means getting inside Calico.”

“There is no getting inside Calico.”

I sit up from him, looking to capture his full attention. “Papa found the cure, Rhys. The antibody. It’s based on your blood. You hold the strongest titers against the protein. If we can get ahold of it, we can barter our way into Szolen. At least a portion of it.”

“How do you know they haven’t already found it? His lab was surely ransacked.”

I shake my head, lying back down against his chest. “Papa had no intentions of them finding it. He’d never hand over the cure like that.”

“How do you know it even exists?”

“His journal.”

“Then, why didn’t he use it to save himself?”

I stare down at the scar across my wrist and frown. “Because you have to want to be saved.”

* * *

Screams echo down the dark hallway, and I slap my hands to my ears, whispering the Lord’s Prayer as I tiptoe on. My head tells me not to look through the windows, but morbid curiosity gets the best of me, and I do. On the other side of the glass, to the right of me, is a boy with blond curls. I somehow know it’s Abel, but he’s older, as if he’s aged along with me this whole time.

“Dani!” he cries out from the table he’s strapped to, kicking and wriggling beneath the thick leather belts across his arms, chest, and legs.

It’s only an illusion, I tell myself. Not real.

Ahead of me, Ivan stands in his black uniform, wearing the devil’s grin with his hand outstretched for me. “C’mon, Dani. I want to show you something.”

“What is it?” I ask warily, refusing to reach back to him.

“A surprise.”

Fear ripples down my spine, chattering my teeth, as I follow behind him.

None of this is real. None of it.

We come to a stop in front of another window. Inside, a man lies on a bloody gurney with his skull exposed, the threads of his flesh held by metal clamps. The surgeon steps to the side, and I slap a hand to my face, recognizing Papa’s profile. In spite of the contraptions holding him still, he manages to turn toward me, his lips mouthing the word Wren.

Or run.

My heart slams into my chest, and I throw myself against the glass, pounding at the window.

The surgeon turns and lowers the mask at his face.

A cold fist of dread locks tight around my lungs, as Six stares back at me, wearing his wily grin, eyes black as a shark’s.

“Shhh,” Ivan whispers in my ear, snaking a hand down into my pants. I can feel his fingers brushing over my folds, while the other hand grips tight to my mouth. “I found you. And I will destroy you this time.”

I shoot upright with a scream ripping from my chest. Through rapid, panting breaths, I scan the room, looking for Ivan.

Hands grip my shoulders, and I let out another scream, clawing them off of me.

“Wren!” Rhys’s voice penetrates the shield of illusion that keeps me from seeing him. “Wren!” His tone is firmer, and his grip tightens against me.

Swallowing past the dry lump in my throat, I double blink, taking in the flickering sconces on the wall, the metallic scent, and the strong hands pulling me, against my body’s protest.

I exhale a shaky breath, and the first bout of nausea hits my stomach as the panic recedes. “Just … a nightmare.”

“What happened?” The warmth of his chest hits my cheek, as he tugs me against him.

Shaking my head summons the visuals of Six and Papa, and I clamp my eyes over the tears. I can’t tell him.

“You’ve been shivering since I returned. Lea said you refused supper. And now the nightmare. What’s troubling you?”

I don’t want to say anything to him, but Ivan’s presence has rattled me, and I suspect the longer he’s here, the worse it will get. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

I’m not ready for this yet. I’m not ready to tell him about Ivan and the baby, but not telling him feels too much like a lie. I’ve held these secrets for too long, and perhaps it’s time for me to face them head on. Maybe Ivan’s presence is more than just a simple act of fate. Maybe it’s my penance for ignoring the little girl who screams out for me sometimes, begging for me to take her out of the nightmares that surround her. To take her somewhere safe. Even if safety’s an illusion.

“Ivan ...” I continue, knowing there’s no going back now. I’ve spoken his name. Confessed that I know him. “I know him from my time in Calico.”

Beneath me, Rhys’s chest rises and falls a bit faster than before.

“He …” My mind scrambles for the words. The ones that make me feel less dirty, less worthless, less ruined than I feel now.

“He hurt you,” Rhys finishes my thought.

My fingers curl into a tight fist, and I nod, feeling his chest still beneath me with a held breath.

“How?” The tight clip of his tone tells me his teeth are clenched.

“It was always the basement. He’d have me meet him down there, where it was dark and terrifying, in some dingy room crawling with bugs and rats. I’d hear sounds down there that weren’t natural. He forced himself on me.” I’m surprised the words tumble from my mouth so quickly, or perhaps my mind hasn’t caught up to them yet. “Other times, he’d use objects. He liked to cut me. Beat me. Told me that, if I said a word, he’d have me sent to the experimental labs.” Everything inside of me tells me not to look up at Rhys, but when I do, it’s clear he’s angry.

No. Angry isn’t the word.

If I were the reason for the expression on his face right now, I’d think I was staring into the eyes of death himself.

Hot breath expels from his nose like a mad bull seeing red. His jaw tics with the grinding of his teeth. Fingers dig into my arm as he stares off, silently absorbing what I’ve said.

“I eventually became pregnant. Ivan tried to have me killed, and I lost the baby.”

He jolts to a sitting position and turns away from me.

Tears fill my eyes as I stare at his scarred back, completely lost as to what could possibly be going through his head right now, so I say the first thing that comes to mine. “I’ll understand if you don’t want me now.”

His head kicks to the side, brows pinched to a frown. “Is that what you think? I don’t want you now?”

Tears blur his form, until they spill onto my cheek and his face sharpens once more. “It’s because of me the baby’s dead. I killed it.” I wipe the tears from my cheeks, unable to look at him with my confession. “I’m ruined.”

“We’re all ruined, Wren. We’ve all got scars. Only difference between mine and yours is what you can see on the skin.” He reaches out for me, grabbing hold of my arm, and drags me across the bed. Once close enough, he lifts me onto his lap, and I wrap my arms around his neck. Fingers tangled within my hair, he crushes me to his lips, and I can’t breathe as he kisses me like he’s trying to suck the pain from my lungs and free me from this suffocating guilt. This hell I’ve been trapped inside for so long. He rests his forehead to mine, his fingers rubbing against my crown. “You’re mine, little bird. Nothing, and no one, will ever change that.”

I love him. I can’t bring myself to say those words aloud yet, for fear the pain will hear me, but I do.

I truly and irrevocably love him.