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The tents have been reserved for women and children, but I insisted on sleeping beside Six, who volunteered himself to keep watch. However, since he refused to let me sleep in a cramped sleeping bag beside him, an arrangement that didn’t trouble me in the least, Tinker took it upon himself to construct a small, makeshift tent out of a shallow alcove of the nearby mountain. By tying thick branches to one of the weaved mats made by the elder women, we now have something of a door.

From this slightly higher elevation, Six can see out across the camp, and we’re close enough to warn them of any dangers, like an oncoming horde of Ragers. We’ve passed a few thick cells of them during our travels, which tells me their numbers are on the rise again. As the first generation dies out, their spawn have begun to emerge in large pockets.

I lie on the unzipped sleeping bag inside the cave that’s lit by a small fire Rigs was kind enough to start for me. The ache in my stomach hasn’t subsided, but there isn’t a sharpness to the pain for me to worry so much yet. For now, I lie on my back, rubbing my hand over the tiny bundle of cells that will soon be a miniature version of Six, or me.

The door slides to the side, and Six ducks as he steps into the cave, looking massive inside the small quarters. Crossing his arms, he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side, then removes his boots, discarding them, as well. He unzips his pants and pushes them down his meaty thighs, until he’s completely naked. The sight of his scars, embedded into thick cords of muscle, isn’t something I’ll ever get used to seeing. It’ll always be a reminder to me, of the boy I found on the other side of the wall. The suffering he endured at the hands of monsters who would’ve taken joy in destroying him completely.

My Six.

He lies down beside me and drags me across our bed, until I’m as close as I can possibly be to him.

Cozy and content, I stare off at the fire, and my mind takes me back months ago, to that night. It happens sometimes, when I’m alone with my thoughts for too long, and I have flashbacks of walking those halls, where Ragers and Alpha mutations fed on soldiers and lab personnel. Papa would’ve called it posttraumatic stress. He would’ve told me these thoughts were my head trying to process what happened, the night we escaped the hospital and sealed the doors behind us. But it’s not just my head, because I hear Six in his sleep, too. Tossing and turning, moaning and growling, calling out my name, as if the version in his head has an alternate ending. He wakes up in a sweat, trembling and tense, and those are the nights I have to be careful, since he’s not always lucid. Sometimes, his mind is still locked inside that hell, just like mine, and there’s a chance he might mistake me for an attacking mutation. It’d be the end of me, in that case, because Six wouldn’t hesitate to kill first.

“Do you ever think about what would’ve happened, if we’d have been locked inside?” The mindless question tumbles past my lips, while I lie mesmerized by the flame.

“Why are you asking me this now? You’ve not talked about it in weeks.”

I shrug, drawing his hand beneath my cheek while I lie on my side. “I’m afraid to think about it. But maybe talking about it will help.”

“We got out. We survived. That’s all you need to think about. Everyone locked inside that place is dead. And whatever isn’t dead, is better kept inside.”

“I know. But sometimes I think … what if we hadn’t made it out in time? What if the doors had closed just before we reached it?” My thoughts drift back to the soldier begging us to wait. Screaming after us to hold the doors open, as if we could. As if we had the power to stop it, and when they finally sealed shut, I could hear his muffled cries on the other side.

“I would’ve protected you as long as I could.”

I can’t help the tears that spring to my eyes. I’d like to think it’s all hormonal, early pregnancy causing some kind of emotional imbalance in me, but I don’t think I’m quite far enough along for that, and this isn’t the first time I’ve pondered these questions. “I couldn’t have watched them tear you apart to protect me. I’d have wanted to die alongside you.” Of course, I know the mutations wouldn’t have been so accomodating and merciful as to allow the same quick death.

“Hey.” Finger hooked beneath my chin, he tilts my head just enough to see his crystal blue eyes staring back at me. “Don’t do this to yourself. What happened that night was meant to be.”

Lips pressed to a flat line, I nod. “We got a lot of them out.”

“We did.”

But I can’t bear to think of the others who were left behind. The ones we couldn’t rescue in time. Innocent women, children and men left at the mercy of those things. At the very least, the men and children would’ve escaped with a fairly quick death. The women would’ve likely been raped by the Alphas. Possibly the mutations, as well, though I don’t know much about them.

“Kenny told me a girl escaped with three Alphas. Must’ve happened before they sealed it.”

He doesn’t respond to that, but he doesn’t have to. We both know the potential for violence that thrives inside Six every moment. It doesn’t take explanation, or speculation, to know the girl is probably dead, or has been violated to the point of wishing she was.

The only reason Six isn’t just as violent is due to years of self-control and distancing himself from those dark moments in his life. And still, it’s a conscious effort on his part, a battle between his mind and body that tears inside him every day.

“I can’t even imagine what they’ve done to that girl,” I add, shaking my head.

“There might be goodness left in some of them. I like to think there was goodness left in my brother.”

My heart aches at the memory of those few moments when he recognized his brother, Brenin, scarred and deformed by their vicious experiments, just before Albert killed him. I turn to face him, setting my hand against his cheek as I pull him to my lips. “There was. I saw it.”

I swear Six carries the weight of the world in his eyes. How one could look so sad and determined at the same time is a testament to what he’s endured to survive.

He rolls over top of me and buries his face in my throat, kissing me there. When his lips finally find mine, I’m ravenous for the taste of him on my tongue. My stomach tightens as waves of excitement pulse through me. The want he stirs inside of me with little effort. It’s like this every time I’m with the man, doesn’t matter that it was only the night before when we last made love. Every time he kisses me, I’m taken back to the nights when he snuck into my room, unbeknownst to Papa, and we kissed until the sun came up.

The passion I feel with him is unparalleled, like twin flames coming together to form a single wildfire that will wipe out everything in its path. Destructive elements made for each other.

Starting at my collarbone, he leaves a trail of kisses down my body, until he reaches my belly. Once there, he rests his palm against my mostly flat stomach and plants a much softer, delicate kiss, as if it were our baby’s cheek. There’s a fullness inside my chest at the sight of this big, scarred man, so anxious for the life he helped to create. The baby he cradles in my dreams with dark hair and crystal blue eyes. I imagine this tiny creature lying against his chest, protected by a father who will fight to his own death to ensure nothing, or no one, harms it.

He lingers at my belly for a moment, before he prowls back up my body, and the growl in his chest is in play.

“Six ...” I try to hide my smile, but a giggle breaks free, as he snarls and attacks my throat, rubbing his stubbled cheek over my sensitive skin there. “Six!” The tickle is more than I can stand, springing tears to my eyes as I push at his chest, in a poor effort to end his torment. Laughter echoes through the small cave, and I let out an unintended scream that he caps with his palm.