“We’re going,” Cason says.
It’s not a question.
I nod. “Yeah. We are.”
Because whatever game Malcolm is playing now, we’re done watching from the sidelines.
I pace. It’s allI can fucking do. Again and again and again.
Reese’s bedroom isn’t small, but it’s starting to feel like a cage. Walls closing in, air too thick, my own thoughts louder than anything else in the room.
I’ve been in a slow spiral since leaving my apartment, but I’ve forced myself to hold it together. Barely. Felix sat on my lap the entire drive out here, and I really think that dude deserves the official title of emotional support animal. He’s an asshole sometimes, but he’smyasshole.
However, now that Reese and I are alone, I can’t stop the vortex sucking me in.
Reese is leaning against the dresser, watching me pace across the room, not interrupting, not trying to calm me down. Which is probably smart because I’m about two seconds away from biting someone’s head off.
“Seven years,” I snap as I continue pacing. “Sevenfuckingyears, Reese.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do,” I fire back, gesturing wildly.“Because apparently my life has never even been mine. None of it has been real. The kidnapping, the fallout, me destroying your resistance.”
My voice cracks on that, and I hate it.
“Cason—”
“And now we find out it was allengineered?” I laugh, but it’s completely devoid of humor. “That he just…what? Set everything up like some long-term science experiment?”
Reese doesn’t answer, and I don’t blame him. What the fuck is he supposed to say to any of this?
“I haven’t been in control of a single fucking thing since that basement.” My chest feels too tight, like I can’t get a full breath. “Not one fucking thing. I got kidnapped and manipulated and used. Then I died—fuckingdied—and came back with powers he probably already knew I’d have.”
I finally stop, coming to stand in the middle of the room as I look at Reese. I hesitate, the anger catching on something even heavier.
“How many times?” I ask, my voice quiet because it’s at risk of breaking.
Reese doesn’t pretend not to understand. A beat passes, then, “Twice.”
Something sharp and aching settles under my ribs while pieces of me shatter for him. My own death wasn’t exactly a fucking picnic, but to be put through that twice? Against his will?
Damn Malcolm to the deepest, darkest pits of hell.
“Tell me one thing.” My voice is still soft, even more unsteady now. “One thing in my life that hasn’t been touched by him.”
Silence.
Reese’s jaw tightens. He can’t, and neither can I.
“Even this.” I gesture between us. “Evenyou. That started because of him.”
Something flickers in Reese’s expression at that. “Don’t,” he says quietly.
I shake my head, and when I blink, a tear tracks down my cheek. “No, I’m serious. What part of this is actually ours, Reese? What part of this isn’t just another move in whatever game he’s playing?”
“That’s not—”
“How do you know? How do you know this isn’t exactly what he wanted too? Us together, walking straight into his next setup?”
