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“So you remember arguing about River?”
“Right.” Why is she torturing me? I don’t want to think. Thinking hurts too much. Trying to remember is agony. But she won’t shut up.
“Do you… remember what I told you?”
“You mean about how I’m sick? Because that’s the last thing I remember you saying.” I lift my gaze to find her staring at me with wide eyes over the top of her knees. There’s somethingin her expression that taps on my shoulder, trying to get my attention. What if there is something I’m forgetting? Because I don’t remember lying down. I don’t remember anything between her telling me I need help and when I woke up.
“That’s not what I meant,” she announces in a sad, shaky voice. “He came back. You became River.”
No fucking way. She’s trying to gaslight me into believing I’m crazy. There I was, thinking she betrayed me in the worst possible way. I should know by now there’s always a lower level for a person to sink to. “This is bullshit.”
“That doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Do you think I have the first clue how to handle this? I’m really scared for you. I want to help you.”
“Congratulations,” I snort. “You helped me by getting yourself abducted.”
“Fine. You think you know everything?” She shakes her head like she’s disappointed in me. Like she’s the one who has something to be disappointed about. Like she was betrayed. “Then tell me. What happened before you laid down and went to sleep? Do you remember? Do you remember lying down? Do you remember what I told you before you did?”
I want to. I have to prove her wrong. She doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about.
But I can’t remember. There’s a blank space in my memory. One second, we were fighting, and then here I was. What did she tell me? It must’ve been something important if she thinks I’m going to remember, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t come up with anything.
And the trying makes my head hurt worse. So much worse.
“Enough questions,” I finally say.
She sighs, sounding as weary as I feel when she speaks next. “You are right. It’s not worth getting into another fight over right now. And we should really be talking about how we’regoing to get out of here, anyway. Can you think of a way? You researched this place. Is there a way out before they come for us?”
I’m glad to have something else to turn my attention to, even if I don’t have any answers right away. At least the room isn’t spinning when I stand, then go to the door to listen for anybody on the other side. There are two voices out there, both men, far enough away that I can’t make out what they’re saying. They sound bored, if anything. Like all of this means nothing, like they’re just hanging out until their shift is up. Because in the end, they don’t care. They can’t care. How else could they live with themselves if they did?
“The best thing we can hope for is to overtake one of them when they come in.” Turning to Scarlet, I explain, “We can say you need help or something, and then?—”
Even I jump at the gunfire that cuts through the air and kills the peaceful silence outside. Scarlet jumps up with her head swinging back-and-forth as more and more of the rapid-fire shots fill the air. Then there’s the shouting—confused orders flying back-and-forth, voices overlapping in panic.
Finally, a siren begins to wail. The compound has been breached.
“What is it, do you think?” It’s only when I register the heat from her body that I realize she’s standing close to me. I wrap an arm around her shoulders out of habit more than anything else, and I wish it didn’t feel so right. I wish I could trust her again.
There are more gunshots, so many more, before I finally realize what we’re hearing. “He believed me.”
“What? Who?” she asks, raising her voice to be heard over the chaos. “What are you talking about?”
“I called Q. I had to. I gave him our coordinates and told him to get here to help you. I was afraid he didn’t believe me.”
There are pounding footfalls outside the door, and I pull Scarlet away from it, putting myself between her and whatever’s coming. Even if it is Xander and a small army who came through the gate, there’s a chance Rebecca comes in here and finishes us off to make sure nobody spills her secrets to the world.
It isn’t Rebecca who comes charging through, though. “Scarlet?” Xander grunts. There’s a semi-automatic in his right hand, raised like he’s ready to fire.
“Dad!” She throws herself at him and regrets it right away, flinching with a gasp when he touches her back.
“What did they do to you?” In the dim light streaming in from outside, it’s easier to see what the darkness hid. The ugly blood stains tell a painful story that can’t be denied.
“Did you find Rebecca?” I ask Xander as he stares at his daughter’s back. At first, I wonder if he heard me; his jaw ticks and his nostrils flare, but he doesn’t say a word.
When he does, he sounds like an animal ready to charge. “No. She slipped out of our grasp, but I’m not stopping until she’s finished.” He tucks the gun into his waistband before taking Scarlet’s face between his hands. “What did they do to you?”
Instead of crumbling and sobbing the way most people would after what she’s been through, Scarlet stiffens her spine. “I’m stronger than I look. But I would very much like to get out of here.”
He shakes off whatever was holding him still and gives her his leather jacket, draping it over her shoulders. “Come on. We’re going home.”
