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"She deserves to know," Reece snaps. "Keeping her in the dark isn't going to make it any easier."
Blaise jumps to his feet and paces the length of the room. "How would you know? You've never been in this kind of situation." He kicks a bucket across the room. "You don't know anything--how hard it is to be told a bunch of shit that could change your life and not necessarily for the better."
"We've all been through stuff." Reece jumps to his feet and blocks Blaise's path. "And you know it's better to hear bad news sooner rather later. If anything, it'll give her some time to prepare."
"For my death." I don't know why I say it. The words just slip out.
They look at me with pity.
"We don't know that for sure," Ryder stresses, carrying my gaze. "You could be different. The wardens, they said you were better than quercu. That has to mean something."
I stare down at the plate. "I don't know what that is."
"It's an herb or a drug, depending on how you want to look at it," Reece explains. "It's really rare, mainly because wardens overused it and it's basically extinct now."
"They destroyed it like they destroy everything else," Blaise grumbles, kicking a crate in frustration.
Reece sighs, shaking his head. "But anyway, any of The Grim prefer to feed off quercu because it's more powerful than feeding off humans. But they don't get to do it often because it's so rare. The fact that they said you were a lot like quercu means you might be stronger than a typical Nameless."
"But why?" I set the fork down and drape an arm across my stomach. "What's different about me?"
"I have no idea." Reece sinks down onto a crate and runs his fingers through his hair. "I've never heard of anything like this before."
"Rae might know something," Ryder says. "She can do a physical on Allura when we get there. Maybe she'll find something different."
"I don't think Allura should have to get a physical done unless she wants to." Like a magnet, Blaise snares my gaze.
I take a shaky breath and tear my attention from him, turning to Reece. "Who's Rae?"
"The doctor at the station." Reece gives my knee a gentle pat. "Don't worry. She's nice. And if anyone can help us, she can."
I cross my arms, curling into myself. I'm afraid of what the doctor will discover about me: that I'm different, that I'm dying. What if my end is right around the corner, and I get there before I ever have a chance to really live?
Chapter Eleven
The Docks
After the conversation about my possibly limited lifespan, Reece decides to shift topics and focus on finding out if Lex is down here. Even though Blaise said no one has a boss, when Reece gives instructions, they all obey. The final plan--Reece and Blaise will go search East City Post and see what they can find out while Ryder stays in the room with me.
"Make sure she gets some rest," Reece warns, putting a gun into his holster.
Reece salutes him, grinning. "Yes, boss."
Reece looks unconvinced. "Just make sure she doesn't leave the room. No going out on little adventures. Now's not the time to flirt."
Ryder rolls his eyes, resting back on his hands. "You're such a buzz kill."
Reece shoots him a stern look as he slips a grey hoodie on, covering up the holster. "I mean it, Ryder. No messing around. This is important, especially if Maxx and Lucille know she's a Nameless."
The mischievous glimmer in Ryder's eyes fades. "All right, I'll behave." He lowers his voice, muttering, "No trust at all."
"Because everything's always a joke to you," Blaise says, lingering by the door.
"Not the important stuff." Ryder stretches out his legs. "Look, I get how important this is, so just get going. If Lex is down here, you need to get him detained ASAP."
Blaise mutters something under his breath then jerks the door open and storms out.
"Be good," Reece warns Ryder before rushing after Blaise, shutting the door behind him.
Ryder immediately springs to his feet and locks up. Then he twists around and leans against the door with a guarded look on his face. "So, now what do we do?"
I shrug through a yawn. "I don't know."
"Aw, sweetheart, you're tired. You should've said something." He crosses the room to the shelves, digs around until he finds a thick blanket and pillow, and then comes up beside me. "Scooch over."
I do what he says and move out of the way. He picks up the empty plates and discards them on the crate before spreading the blanket he collected over the one already on the floor. Then he pulls back the top blanket, lies down on his side, and pats the spot in front of him.
"Come lay down by me."
I warily eye the spot. He wants me to lie down by him? I can't remember a time when I slept in a room with someone else, let alone lay by someone on a blanket.
"You know what, maybe I should lie down somewhere else," he says, pushing up on his elbow.
"No, you're fine." I close the space between us and lower myself down to the floor on my good side. "It's just been ... well, forever since I've lain on a blanket."
"What did you sleep on?" he asks, tucking a pillow under me.
I bask in the feeling of the softness under my head. "The floor mostly. Sometimes, visitors would use me for experiments, and they'd bring in these padded bed things that had wheels. The surface was cold, but it was more comfortable than the floor."
"What kind of experiments did they do?" he asks. He must catch a glimpse of the horror on my face because he promptly adds, "You know what? You don't need to answer me. You've been through enough for one day."
"No, it's okay ... Mostly, they just stuck needles in me and took my blood. Sometimes, they'd monitor my heart. That was never too bad. I mean, the needles hurt, but I got used to it ..." I trail off as a lump wedges in my throat. "There were a couple of times, though, that they ... that they tried to hurt me ... really badly ... and did ..." I inhale sharply through my nose, fighting back the tears.
He props himself up on his elbow and cups my cheek. "It's okay. We don't need to talk about this. I never should've brought it up." When I continue to struggle not to cry, he pulls me against his chest. "Allura, please calm down. I hate seeing you cry."
I grip fistfuls of his shirt, battling back the tears, but a few manage to escape. "I-I'm sorry. I don't know why I can't stop."
"Shhhh ..." He smoothes his hand over the back of my head. "There's nothing wrong with crying. It just breaks my heart thinking about what you went through."
I press my cheek to his chest as tears stream down my face and soak his shirt. I want to stop crying, but now that I've started, I can't seem to stop. All the fear, desperation, and hopelessness I bottled up comes pouring out of me in violent, shoulder-heaving waves.
I don't know how long I sob into Ryder's shirt before my eyes finally start to dry. Minutes? Hours? However long, Ryder holds me in his arms the entire time.
"Better?" he asks when I move back.
I sniffle. "A little bit." I dry my cheeks with my hand. "I'm sorry I did that." Now that I stopped crying, I feel embarrassed for doing it. "I should be stronger."
"Hey," he angles his head down as he tilts my chin up, and our gazes collide. "Crying doesn't make you weak. In fact, it makes you strong. Some people refuse to deal with how they're feeling, and when you bottle shit up like that, it can wear on a person."
I nod like I understand, but the reality is that I don't understand a lot of stuff.
"I just wish I didn't feel so ... overwhelmed."
"It'll get easier. I promise." He grazes his knuckles across my cheek as he deliberates something. "When I first was brought to the station, I felt the same way. I was seven years old, and I spent most of my life living at the docks. Being on land like that, it took a lot of getting used to."
"What are the docks?"
"They're these wooden platforms built on mostly lakes, although I've heard rumors that there's some hidden out on the ocean. They're small and crammed with a lot of people. It's supposed
to be a safe place--watchers don't patrol on water too frequently."
"It seems like there's a lot of different places out here, with a lot of different people. Like strays, and now the docks... Blaise told me about the Forsaken."
