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And just like that, I have them back, and my stupid treacherous heart is dancing a happy dance.
I am hungover and should be depressed. The booze always brings me the lowest, hence the uppers I take. But instead, I feel liberated as I ride back to the resort, Droga and Callie right behind me on an ATV.
It feels like the world around me as I know falls apart into pieces and right away transforms into something new. It took years for this to happen. Maybe I can change things on this island. One person at a time. Droga. The Outcasts on the Eastside. This mess with Tsariuk that I need to sort out, and with it, reevaluate Zion security and surveillance.
At Ayana, I wait outside while Droga and Callie make their way through the doors of the hospital ward. Slate gets instructions about escorting them to the Eastside. And when Droga and Callie come out half an hour later, they seem more cheerful.
I lean on my bike, studying them as they approach. This is weird, considering the events of the previous several days—the bruises that mark our faces a reminder.
But I am sober. Already or still.
“Here.” I give Droga a new phone. “The Ayana directory is there. Marlow’s numbers. Mine. When Maddy gets hers, she’ll call you.”
I can’t help staring at his tattooed knuckles as he takes the phone from my hand.
“Are you gonna harass me long-distance?” Droga asks.
I shoot a surprised look at him, but my unease dissipates when I see his half-smile.
“In case of emergency,” I say and cut my gaze away. “Bo. Savages. Weather. Whatever.”
Slate comes on the radio on my belt. “Entrance 24. Whenever they are ready, boss.”
“They’ll meet you there in five.”
“Instructions on restraints? Weapons?”
Droga’s lips stretch in a mocking smile at the words.
“No,” I blurt into the radio.
“One more thing,” Droga’s voice stops me. He hesitates. “There’s a warehouse by the port. One of many. The homeless live behind them.” He looks around as if searching for words. “There’s a kid, about ten years old, who lives there. Sonny Little. You think you can locate him and let me know? I’ll come get him.”
A kid?
Is Droga losing his mind or there’s more on this island that I don’t know about?
“I’ll find him,” I throw out casually, get on the bike, and rev up the motor.
“Crone!”
Droga is serious as fuck—I know that look—when he says, “Thank you.”
And I feel that maybe—just maybe—life is not so bad after all.
7
KAT
I spentthe last two days walking the Ayana resort, trying to learn every corner of it. It’s the fanciest place I’ve ever been around the world. My new home for some time. My workplace—the thought makes me smile, though it’s unusual to feel dependent on someone. And right now, I am completely under Archer’s control.
I really can’t do much while I wait for his instructions.
No phone yet, no change of clothes. Ugh. I’m like an unwanted guest.
Eventually, my patience runs low, so I pick up the house-guest phone and dial the guest services.
“Connect me to Nick Marlow, the head of security. Tell him it’s the new arrival.”
