Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“Did someone else shoot them?”
He exhales heavily through his nose. “Most of them died of natural causes or from being attacked by animals or Tiders. My friend Finn is one of them.”
Finn. The one who was killed by the snake that day by the waterfall.
“Let’s keep walking,” he says.
I follow, speed walking so I can keep talking to him.
“So you’ve talked to Virginia? She knows you’ll trade food for turning off aromium?”
“Yeah, she knows.”
“Is Rising Tide for making soldiers for Whitman?”
He doesn’t respond right away, and I look over and up at the tight set of his jaw, a snowflake settling onto one of his dark eyelashes. He really is the most brutally beautiful, savage specimen of a man I’ve ever seen. Dark. Intense. Strong. Volatile. I still feel pulled toward him, even though I’m furious with him.
“It’s entirely about the kids. The child of two people with active aromium is born enhanced with it. It can’t be modified or turned off, and it’s more powerful than what the parents were injected with.”
I remember the kids I saw when Pax brought me to their camp. They were little machines, not a smile or laugh in sight. People, but also...not. Somehow, Whitman managed to do something even more evil than his previous crimes against humanity.
“That’s cruel,” I say softly, emotion welling in my throat.
“There’s no easy way to stop it,” he says, his voice clipped. “But it has to be done.”
This is why he’s trying to starve them out. It’s like his decision to execute Vance—not the only option, but a decisive, effective one, even if it’s also cold.
We’re at the security team housing block, and he uses his thumbprint to open the outer door. When he steps aside for me to enter, I lower my brows in a skeptical look.
“Okay, but...why are we going here? Why can’t I go back to my room?”
His response is a scowl, but it’s a tired one—much weaker than his usual. When he speaks, his voice is so low it’s practically a whisper.
“Vance has friends. When word gets out about what happened, I want to know you’re safe.”
I nod slowly, considering. “Don’t you think they’ll be angrier at you than me?”
“They mess with me, they’ll end up in a hole beside him.”
My eyes widen as I process that. He shifts, looking agitated, and rubs his jaw.
“Look, I don’t kill people for questioning me. But Vance’s friends might try to make this into something it’s not. I just want to keep the peace, and if you’re with me, there’ll be peace.”
“With you?” I’m appalled by this plan. “In your room?”
“Just...come in and hear me out. Give me five minutes. Then you can leave if you want to.”
“You mean ... leave camp?”
“No. I mean, you can go back to your room.”
“I can’t unlock the door because someone thought it was a good idea for Vance to be the only one who could lock and unlock it.” I give him a pointed glare.
His sigh is weary. “Again, I’m sorry. If you want, I’ll leave my room and stay somewhere else for the rest of the night while you stay there. It’s secure.”
A cluster of people are approaching the housing block. Security team members returning from Vance’s burial, I think. I really don’t feel like making eye contact with any of them right now. Some of them could be the friends of Vance’s that Marcus mentioned.
“Five minutes.” I step into the building.
The housing block is enormous, its walls and floors made of concrete. The ground level doesn’t have any doors. Its open, thick metal posts supporting the building’s weight. There are built-in metal ladders leading up to the second floor. I assume it’s because of flooding.
Marcus gestures at a ladder and I climb it. He follows and then leads the way down a short hallway, the floors on this level made of wooden planks that fill the air with a sweet, fresh scent.
He uses his thumbprint to open the door, and my heart hammers hard as I walk into his quarters.
When he flips a switch beside the door, a light fixture on the wall casts dim light around us.
We’re in a room with the same wooden floors that were in the hallway, the planks also covering the walls and ceiling. The room is about twelve feet by twelve feet, a wooden table with six chairs taking up most of the space.
Marcus walks over to the table, and before he gets to it, my gaze falls on the knife I found in the cave. He picks it up and brings it to me, holding on to the leather sheath and offering me the handle.
I just look at him, confused.
“Take it,” he says.
As soon as my hand is wrapped around the weapon’s smooth handle, I feel a little safer. But I’m still wary, because I don’t know if he’s going to let me keep it.