Page 36 of Nemesis

I snort, but the sound is lost in the pulses of pain. Like he cares if I live or die. “There’s not much they can do to me in here that I haven’t already survived.”

He doesn’t respond. The hand pressing fabric to my wound disappears entirely. I search through the darkness, straining to get a read on his expression.

“What?” he finally asks. The word is as soft as it is deadly.

I reach for the fabric, wishing I hadn’t said anything at all. His hand pulls out of reach the moment my skin touches his.

“What did you just say?”

I shake my head and scoot back, away into the shadows. The darkness is more comforting by the day. I tug Vasiliy’s shirt tighter around my arms—I haven’t taken it off since I woke with it draped over my form.

“I would like to buy an answer,” Vasiliy suddenly says.

I look up to find him peeling a scab on his arm with the edge of his dirty nail. Skin flutters to the floor, leaving the exposed wound fresh and raw. The action is incredibly revolting, and yet something in me takes a small thrill in the sacrifice. I’m definitely losing my mind in here.

“Fine,” I say. I created the exchange, after all. If I want to keep using it, I have to play along. “Five drops.”

“Five?” He grins. “Don’t you think highly of yourself?”

“Five drops. Take it or leave it.”

I’d prefer for him to leave it. I’m positive whatever answer he’s trying to purchase from my lips is one I’m not going to be excited to give.

My face really fucking hurts. I hold the piece of fabric tighter to the wound, even though the cloth is soaked and rendered useless. In the corner of my eye, I watch Vasiliy press on either side of his freshly opened cut until a trickle of blood splatters to the ground. I don’t bother to count the drops.

“Alright,” I whisper. “What is your question?”

My skin prickles beneath his attention as it flicks between the pulsing cut on my cheek and my glaring gaze.

“Why do you keep trying to save me?”

I was right. I don’t want to fulfill the trade.

The question is one I’ve considered a few times as I’ve sat here in the darkness. The answer is more selfish than I’d like to admit.

I clear my throat, but the knot lodged in the base remains. “Because…I’m terrified of being alone.”

I look down to avoid whatever response is written across his face. Maybe I should have told him the acts came from an entirely selfless place. Or maybe I should’ve said that I don’t want to see him hurt.

And I don’t.

But more than that, I can’t bear the thought of sitting in here alone.

“I have another,” he says, breaking the silence. “What is your cost?”

I shake my head. I should’ve never started up this little game. “I asked a few follow-ups as well. I’ll answer one more.”

Movement blurs. I startle, realizing he crawled over to my side. He pulls at the button-up around my arms, ripping off a fresh piece of fabric to replace the soggy one pressed to my wound.

I tentatively accept the gesture.

“Where did you go before?”

My lips tug down. The expression pulls at the tender skin. “What do you mean?”

“When you stepped in front of me to stop them from finishing the job. You bit a chunk out of that fucker’s neck. And then…you disappeared.”

Panic trickles through my stomach, along with something heavier. Something that feels exhausted and haggard. I guess it doesn’t really matter what he thinks of me—not when both of us will likely die in the next few days. I still don’t want to relinquish that deep, dark secret.