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He turns in a circle before his boots disappear. Moments later, I hear the click of a door shutting softly. Still, I stay underneath the shelf, knowing he wouldn't just leave. He's either waiting on the other side of the counter or just outside.
Soundless minutes tick by while I remain perfectly still. If I can just wait until daybreak, maybe someone will come in here and--
Silver eyes appear in front of me. "Lookie, lookie what I found."
I gasp, scrambling back. He's one of The Grim!
He grabs a fistful of my hair and drags me out from under the shelf. An ear-splitting scream escapes my lips as I swing my arm. My knuckles collide with his face, my fingernails catching his skin and drawing blood.
He yanks hard on my hair, throwing me around and slamming me into the wall. "I'm going to make you suffer for that!"
I bring my fist around again and slam my knuckles across his cheekbone with surprising strength. The sickening sound of cracking bones claws at the air, but I'm not sure if my hand or his cheekbone broke. Considering the strength of The Grim, probably my hand. But when I pull back, my fingers feel remarkably fine.
"By the time I'm finished with you, you'll be begging for mercy," he growls, cradling his face in his hand.
I raise my fist to strike him again. Fear flashes in his eyes, and he thrusts his hand against my chest. Pain splinters through every bone in my body, my skin feeling ripped apart from the inside out.
"This is just the start of what I'm going to do to you." He laughs darkly. "You'll pay for this forever."
The last thing I hear is a bloodcurdling scream. Then his hand leaves my chest, and I slump to the floor, sinking into the darkness.
Chapter Thirteen
Fear
My eyelids fly open, and I open my mouth to scream, but it catches in my throat when I notice the steel walls, the blanket draped over me, and the guy sleeping beside me. I breathe in relief. It was just a dream. The world, the warden, everything was just a vivid, disturbing dream.
I wipe my hand across my sweat-drenched forehead and turn onto my side to face Ryder ... I blink, realizing the guy sleeping next to me is Blaise. Confusion sets in. I know I fell asleep next to Ryder. They must have switched places while I slept.
I watch him sleep for a bit, listening to the sound of his soft breathing. The soothing sound reminds me that I'm no longer alone, that I escaped the channels. I'm safe, and despite how real the horrifying dream felt, it was just a dream and nothing more. I repeat that in my head a hundred times and almost convince myself it's true. Deep down, though, unsettledness stirs inside me, and I can't shake the feeling the dream was trying to tell me something.
Sighing, I wiggle around, trying to get comfortable. I feel strangely wide-awake, like my deprived body and mind finally caught up on sleep after being starved for years. I feel good. Even my aching shoulder doesn't hurt.
I move my arm around, testing for tenderness. No one ever mentioned how long it had to be in a sling. Maybe this kind of injury heals quickly.
Tossing the blanket off me, I sit up, undo the knot, and slip off the sling. Then I stretch out my arm, raising and lowering it. Amazing. Not a single ounce of pain.
"Allura, what're you doing?" Blaise sits up, rubbing his weary eyes. "You need to keep that on for at least a month."
I massage my shoulder. "It feels fine, though. Maybe I didn't hurt it as badly as you thought."
"No. You jacked it up really badly." He flattens his mussed blond hair with his hand before pressing a few fingers to my shoulder and applying a drop of pressure. "Does that hurt?" When I shake my head, he slides his hand down to my elbow and gradually lifts my arm. "How about that?"
I shake my head again. "It feels normal."
His forehead creases as he lowers my arm. "That's so strange. Usually, a dislocated shoulder takes at least a month to heal. For you, I expected the time to be longer since you're so malnourished."
"Maybe it wasn't dislocated."
"It was definitely dislocated. I popped it back into place."
I think about the dream I had and then how my eyes shone red when I looked in the mirror. "Maybe there's something wrong with me. Maybe that's why the wardens said I was better than that ... What did you guys call it?"
"Quercu." He seems to choose his next words carefully. "Even if there is something different about you, it's not bad to heal quickly." He balls up the sling and sets it beside a worn backpack. "Especially with what we have to do today."
I frown. "What do we have to do today?"
"Leave." He pushes to his feet and stretches his arms above his head. The grey, thermal shirt he's wearing rides up an inch, revealing his muscular stomach.
My cheeks warm, and I hurry to look away. I don't know where these feelings are stemming from, but I feel uncomfortable, mainly because I have the most insane urge to stare at him.
"The storm ended yesterday," Blaise says through a yawn. "Things are getting intense down here. We probably should've taken off already, but we wanted to let you get as much sleep as possible."
Using both my hands, I get my feet under me and stand up. "How long have I been asleep?"
"You've been in and out of it for almost four days." He collects the backpack off the floor and slings the handle over his shoulder. "You woke up a few times to get a drink and something to eat, but you were pretty out of it."
I comb my fingers through my tangled hair. "I don't remember any of that."
"Yeah, we kind of wondered if maybe you were sleepwalking. Your eyes were open, but you had this glazed look on your face. And a lot of the stuff you were saying didn't make any sense. You kept talking about wardens and stars and some place that you thought The Grim couldn't go." He adjusts the handle of the backpack higher onto his shoulder. "But you'd never say where the place was."
I frown, confused. I'm fairly certain I talked about wardens and stars because of the dream, but as for a place where wardens can't go ... "I don't know why I said that."
"You were probably dreaming." He bends over to pick up a bottle of water. "We've all dreamed about a Grim-free place before. Too bad it's just a dream, right?" He pauses, as if waiting for me to say something.
What does he think? That I know where such a place is but am not saying anything?
"Isn't that what those burial places were?" I ask.
"Yeah, I guess so." He studies me carefully, like he's trying to read my thoughts.
I fidget under his stare. "I wish they still existed. I can only imagine how wonderful a place like that would be."
"Yeah, me, too." He rips his attention off me to take a long drink then tosses the bottle to me. "Drink up. We have a long walk ahead of us."
I twist the cap off and down a few swallows of water. "How long will it take us?"
"Probably about a week."
"A week? But we can see the city from here."
"We have to take the long way back along a fault line. Trackers won't go near it."
"What about the city? Do they go near it?"
"Not near the station. We send off an electromagnetic pulse every hour or so, so if one heads that way, they can't get very close." He collects another backpack from off the shelf and chucks it at me. "Load this up with a couple of blankets and an extra pair of pants and a shirt. The nights can get really cold out there."
I grab two flannel blankets, a pair of green cargo pants, a long-sleeved shirt, and a jacket, stuffing everything into the bag. "Where are Ryder and Reece--" I turn around and crash into a rock solid chest, almost every part of our bodies touching. Our legs tangle, and we start to trip over each other's feet. Blaise reaches out to stop me from falling, and his hand somehow ends up on my butt.
Blaise shuffles back, elevating his hands in front of him. "Sorry." He clears his throat. "I was just going to take your bag from you. I didn't mean to ... for that to ... to stand that close to you."
"It's okay." My own cheeks heat for unclear reasons. "I'm okay with carrying my bag."
"Okay, but if you get tired, let me know." He turns on his heels, shaking his head at himself. "We should go find Reece and Ryder, let them know you're awake, and we can go."
He strides for the door, and I hurry after him, looping my arms through the straps of the backpack.
"Wait. What about Lex?" I ask as we reach the door. "Did you guys find any sign of him?
"No." His tone is even, controlled, and his eyes are on the doorknob. "We don't know what you heard, Allura, but we're pretty sure it wasn't Lex."
For some reason, I think he might be lying to me. I don't know why. Maybe so I won't get scared?
He unlocks the door and opens it. "Come on. Let's go --"
An electric zap cracks through the air. Seconds later, Blaise collapses to the floor, convulsing.
I rush to help him, but Maxx steps into the room, flattens his palms to my chest, and shoves me hard. I trip back, losing my balance, and fall to the floor, hitting my head and my tailbone.
"That was way too easy." Lucille strolls into the room, holding a Taser.
