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My heart pounded erraticallyin my chest as I glanced out the window.

Despite being miles away from the Ragers, I couldn’t help but feel as if we were being watched. My hands were clammy as they desperately gripped Calax’s. Right now, I needed his comfort and support more than I needed to pretend to be brave.

“What the hell was that?” Calax asked, voice a breathy exhale. His arms tightened around me marginally as if he was terrified I would be taken from him again. Considering he spent the last few days believing I was dead, that fear was valid. “Have you heard anything from headquarters?” This was directed at the driver, an intimidating man with shoulder-length hair and tanned skin.

Fallon glanced at us through the rearview mirror.

“Nothing new,” he said. “They’re just as confused as we are.”

“Headquarters? Does that have something to do with your school?” I knew that Calax and Fallon both went to a special boarding school, and the school had visited my parents’ resort. It was actually how I met them; after a fire destroyed their dormitories, the students rented out rooms in my parents’ resort. Through chance, I was introduced to Calax’s “team”, whatever the hell that meant. All I had been able to gather so far was that their school was not like any other school. They apparently took a heavy interest in orphans and foster care children (not at all shady). For the most part, I didn’t bother asking.

They had their secrets; I had mine.

“Yes,” Fallon answered briskly. Though I had only known him a couple of hours, I had quickly realized that Fallon - or Sarge to the others - was a man of few words. He much preferred grunts and snorts to get his point across.

I couldn’t say I blamed him. I would love to not have to interact with other humans.

Minus maybe Calax.

And possibly Ducky (Declan).

And the other members of Fallon’s team.

Besides them? Nope. I already had to deal with Elena, their scorned ex-lover, and I really didn’t want to invite any more people onto the “Adelaide talk to” train.

I mean, I had used to talk to Shannon, but...

My hands clenched into fists instinctively. I didn’t want to think about Shannon the last time I saw her. Eyes red, veins darkened, a feral glint to her normally semi-kind expression. She had turned, there was no other word to describe it. The restaurant hostess had become something that no longer held a shred of humanity, just like the throng of people that had chased us out of the apartment complex. Something other.

A Rager.

That was the name Damn Brad had used to describe the virus-infected (or perhaps drug-induced) humans.

As you could probably tell, I didn’t like Brad. He had tried to sacrifice me to the Ragers, and I really don’t like being a sacrificial offering.

That had all happened when we had been trapped underground for a day or two after a tornado struck. Yup. You heard me right. Brad decided that I needed to be killed after only a few fucking hours.

And people said I was messed up.

The three of us were quiet as we drove back to Fallon’s granny house. I didn’t think there was anything we could say. How could we possibly begin to process everything that had happened? I much preferred my oblivious bubble than the crap-fest that was my reality.

“What the hell?” Calax mumbled, glaring out the window. We had arrived at Fallon’s modest, two-story country house. In the driveway, which had been empty only hours before we had left, were three cars.

“Friends of yours?” I asked Fallon hopefully, though I already feared his answer.

With how little Fallon talked, I didn’t think the bastard had friends.

“Rude,” mumbled Fallon, parking the car behind a silver SUV.

I shrugged. He really shouldn’t have expected anything else from me.

Unfortunately, I no longer had my wheelchair. That bad boy had been left behind when we were forced to flee from a group of Ragers. That meant, of course, that Calax had to carry me.

Normally I would’ve been fine with the physical connection, especially after he had just confessed his love to me, but I felt myself cringe when I met the keen eyes of my parents in the entryway.

It was odd seeing my parents in such a diminutive, cute house. They had always had a surplus of money, which meant that they were able to live in luxurious apartments and on tropical islands. The two of them almost looked uncomfortable as they leaned against the photo-framed wall.

“Addie,” D.O.D said stiffly. His nose was crinkled as if the house had a particularly pungent smell. “It’s time for you to go.”

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