Deathwish

Siren#6
Itshouldbedejavu,wakingupinaclosedmetalroom,lockedinwithCalderRoane.Butthis

time,it'snotmydoing.Thistime,it'soutofmycontrol.

IthinkIknowwhywe'rehere.Iassumeit'samobhit,givingmeatasteofmyownmedicine.I

assume,onceagain,thatCalderdoesn'tbelonghere.

ButdoesheassumeIdo?

One,CamillaGreenwich

He'snexttome,hisbackfirmagainstmine,ourfingerspressedtogether.Theposition'snoteven
slightlycomfortable,butinthedarkness,there'snothingleftintheworldbuthisfingertipsagainst
mine.Worldsofexpressionandconnectioninsuchatinybitofflesh.

Bothofus,inthebackofavan,himunconscious,andmenearlyso.Ourwristscuffedbehind

us,palmtopalm,fingersinterlaced.

Somethinghardcrashingintomyhead,sendingmetosleepalongsidehim.
WhenIwakenext,he'sgone.Butthehandcuffsonmywristaren't.No.Mynightmare'sonly

starting.Icanonlyprayhe'salreadydead,inamakeshiftgravesomewhere.

Ifhe'sstillalive,he'sinhisownnightmare.SoIclingtothememoryofthatlasttouch,my

bodyhalf-asleepandalmostdead.

AndIopenmyeyestothesamefoul-smellingdarkness.
Thosewarmfingertipsagainstmine,they'remorerealthanthesteelwallsbehindme,theridged

metalfloorbeneathme.

They'remorerealthanthecorpsenexttome.
Oh,Calder.Youshould'verunwhileyouhadthechance.
We.Weshouldhaverunwhenwehadthechance.

***

Intheharshlightofanoverheadbulb,thecorpse'sfeaturesarestark.Brownhair,mousyandmid-range,
turneddarkerbythebloodcrustedinitandthelight.Strongshoulders,andjustahintofabeer-belly.
Workers'coveralls,thekindmydadworeforsomuchofhislife.

Hisfacialfeaturesarealmostimpossibletomakeoutpasttheshadowsthrownbythechunksof

skinandhairexplodedoutwardfromhisscalp.Butthey'recloseenoughtomakemeremembereverygory
detail.

MydadcommittedsuicidewhenIwasyoung.Heputaskylightinhisskull,andtookhalfhisface

intheprocess.Iheldhistwitchinghandinoneoneofmine,andthephoneintheother,knowingdeep
downthathewasalreadygoneandnoambulancecouldbringhimback.Iknewdeathwell,evenatthat
age.

Andthere'snodoubtinmymindthatmeendinguphere,withthisfellow,it'snotanaccident.
Mynewfriend'shandsareempty,butthere'sagunathisfeet.Ican'treachit,notwithmyhands

cuffedbehindmybackandverylittlemobility.

Mystomachburns;Imusthavebeenlikethisfortwodaysnow,wigglingmywristsinthecuffs

untiltheybled,andthensomemore,onlytorealizethateventhelubricationofthebloodwon'tletmy
wristsslipthrough.AndwhoknowshowlongIwasunderbeforethat,druggedorconcussed.

I'mgonnadiehere,ofdehydrationorstarvation,mythighsstickyfrommyownpiss.Butthat

seemsliketheleastofmyproblems,atthispoint.

Aglintatthebody'sfeetcatchesmyeye—asmallkey,perfectforthecuffs.ButevenwhenIroll

awayandgropeforit,Ican'tpickitup.Theflooringhasdeepridges,probablyfordrainage,andIcan't
actuallyseeenoughbehindmetoknowhowcloseI'mcoming.Ifmyarmswereinfrontofme,atleastI
couldsee.It'smyonlyhope,really.

Iputasmuchofmyweightonmyrestrainedwristsaspossible,andgraduallymanagetoshimmy

myshouldersoffthegroundandsupportmyweightonmyhands.Evencurvingforward,Ican'tthreadmy
hipsbetweenmywrists.Butthisisastart.AtleastI'mmoreorlesssittingup.

Isitbackonmyhipsagain,takingtheweightoffmywrists.IfIstretch,Istillcan'tgetthemfar

enoughuptorotate—thecuffsaretoorestrictive.

ButifIdon'tfindsomewaytogetfree,I'mjustgoingtowasteawayhere,nakedandalone.Maybe

alittlepressurewouldhelpmestretchfurther.Itestit,slidingmyhipsawayfrommywristsuntilmy
shoulderscreamsinitssocket.I'mcloser,butstillquiteawaysaway.

Ishift,testingmyweightfromwristtowrist,tryingtoeasethejoint'spain.
Ifthere'sevenachanceCalder'souttherealone,Ican'tletmyselfgiveup.
IfIgetalittlemoreweightonit,Icanpopmyleftshoulderout,andhopefullyhavethemobilityto

manipulatemyrightarminfrontofme.OrmaybeI'lljustbreakmyarm.Buttryingsomething'sbetterthan
doingnothing.

It'samootpoint,though—thetensionfrommyownweightisn'tenough.Ineedsomethingmoreto

increasetheleverage.

Myeyesfallonthechair,andthebodyinit.
Ileantowardthecorpseandseizehispantleginmyteeth,yankingonhimuntilhetopples

forward,righttowardmychest.Hisweightfallsacrossme,andwithasickeningpop,myshoulder
dislocatesandthegroundslamsagainstmyback.

“Ahhhhhhh,”Ihowl.It'snotlikeanyone'slikelytohear.
Themusclesintheonearmspasmandtwitchasnervesfireandmisfire.Ican'tmovemyfingers.

Can'tentirelyfeelthem.Myheartraces.Butcarefully,Icanbringmyarmsforward,lettingthelimparm
justhang.

Ishovethecorpseoffme,andreachtowardthekey,mydeadarmfollowingmygoodarm

gracelessly.Ipropitbetweenmylegstosteadythekeyhole,andafterseveraltenseminutestryingtotwist
mywristtogetthekeyinright,itfinallyclicksandthecuffsopen.Iundotheonesonmyankles,too.
Thankfullythesamekeyworksforboth.OnlyonceI'mcompletelyunrestraineddoItrytoassessthe
damagetomyarm,probingitwithahandtomyshoulder.

Myshouldersitsunnaturallyundermypalm—itfeelsasthoughthere'sagapingholeinmybody

wherethearmonceconnectedneatlytothejoint,barelycoveredbyskin.WhenIprobetheedgesofthe
hole,myfingertipssinkindisturbinglydeeply.Painblossomsinmyhead,andmyvisiongoesred.Dimly,
itsinksinthatIyelled,andcollapsedagain.

Imassagemyshoulder,probingtoseehowI'mgonnahavetojerkthearmbackintothesocket,or

whetherItoresomethingandwon'tbeabletofixit.Theligamentsaretense,butithelpswiththespasms.

Idon'tquitehavetheleveragetogetitbackintothesocket,notwithastautastheligamentsare.

SoIleanagainstthechairtopropmyselfintoposition,andputmyfullweightonit,untilaninternal
cracklereverberatesthroughmyframe.Tearsstreamfromme,butfeelingcomesbacktomyfingers
almostimmediately.Myarmisstillspasming,butasImassageit,theybegintoease.Andthoughmy
movementsarehesitantatfirst,Icanmovemyarm.

Onehurdledown.Now—wherethefuckamI?

Two

Thedoor'slocked,andthewallsaresolidsheetmetal.Noventswithinreach.Nowindows.AmI
intendedtoescapefromhere?Ifso,thefrontdoor'stheonlyway.Andit'ssealedtight.

Thebackwall'sstackedwithgallonsofwater.Andthere'saplasticcupinthesink.Igreedily

downmostofagallonbeforetheweightofitinmystomachtriggersnausea.Ilayflatonmybacktokeep
itdown.Still,afterdayswithoutfoodordrink,it'sheaven.

Giddylaughstumblefrommydeliciouslywetthroat.There'sacuriousironytothiswholething.A

weekago,Iwasmurderingmywaythroughmobunderlings,andscrewingmynewfiancesenseless.A
fiancewhoIonlygottoknowwhileIwastorturinghimmuchthisway.

Ifithadn'tbeensolong,ImightconsiderthepossibilitythatCalderthoughtitwouldbefuntoturn

thetablesonme.Butthosewhotookus,theyweren'tfuckingaround.Theywerearmedtotheteeth.I
couldseehimdecidingamock-kidnappingwouldbefun,butnotoneinvolvingheavily-armedmen.

Thebarebulbflickers,andthatmomentinthedarkunleashesanembarrassingamountoffear.I

mightaswellbeascaredchild,watchingthelightningflash.Istumbleforwardastepandstandonthe
chairtoreachthehangingbulb,andtwistitinalittletighter.Theflickeringstops.

IalmoststeponthecorpsewhenIgetdown.Itseemsdisrespectful,soIgritmyteeth,andhefthis

stiffbodybackintothechair.Heseemsmarginallylesscreepythere,anditseemslessdisrespectfulthan
leavinghimonthefloor.

“Whowereyou,buddy?”
Iriflethroughhisclothes,andfindalittlenotepad,butnowallet,phone,Swissarmyknife...

nothingthat'sgonnadomeanygood.Andtheonlyotherthingintheroom'sasheafofblankpaper.That'll
makeforagoodescapeattempt,surely.

Itfeelsgoodtohearmyvoice.“Itdoesn'tseemright.Iwonderwhatyournamewas?”
Itiphisfacetothelight,tryingtomemorizewhat'sleft.Stubble,afewfreckles,andfulllips.A

hintofatattooabovetheedgeofhist-shirt.“Ibetyouwerethebikertype.Thebadboy.LikeJames
Dean.MindifIcallyouJames?”

AndthenIcan'thelpbutlaugh,bitterly.There'snowayI'matthepointoftalkingtoacorpse.
“Well,Icertainlyhopetheydidn'tkillyouonmyaccount.Ithinkyou'resupposedtobeamessage,

butiftheywantedtomakeitclearer,theyshould'vepickedsomeonemore...weathered.Smoothskin,no
scars—you'reaprettyboy.”

LikeCalder.
IneverthoughtI'dmisstheweightofmyengagementring.I'donlyjustbegunadjustingtoit.But

theymusthavetakenitwhentheycapturedus.Now,thequestionseemspressing:canyoubewidowed
beforeyou'remarried?

Ihesitate,andpickupthegun.Ithasareassuringweightinmyhand,butacloserinspection

revealsthejoke.“Really?Acapgunwiththemechanismremoved?Imean,Ihadn'tactuallyfiguredyou
satthereandtonguedagunwillingly,butitdoesremovesomeoftheverisimilitude.Itmakesitclearthat
you'reamessage,though.”

Hystericalgigglesbubbleup,makingmelaughuntilmyemptystomachheaves.“Atleasttheycan't

sayIshotthemessenger.”

Three

“James”slumpsinhischair,hisskinpuffy,andbeginningtosmell.

“Stilljustyouandme,eh?IguessIshouldbegladthisplaceisprettycold.AndthatI'mnottrying

toeat.”

Ithinkhewasputheretointimidatemeormockme,buthe'shadtheexactoppositeeffect,

strangely.It'salmostcalminghavinghimhere.LikeI'mnotcompletelyalone.

Myheadaches.Thedeep,uglykindthatmakesmeunderstandhowthemythsaboutAthena'sbirth

originated.Inmyhead,it'smydad'svoice,readingthemythaloudfromanillustratedbook.Ishiver,
rememberinghowhepantomimedZeussplittinghisskullopen.

Shit.ItrytosilencetheflashbackbyfocusingonJames.
Hisskin'schangingcolor,andit'sdifficulttotellhowmuchofit'sdecayandhowmuchisinmy

head.Ihaven'tbeenfeelingwell.It'sadullqueasinessthatknotsmygutsandmakesmytemplesache.I
wonderifI'mstartingamigraineorsomething.“Doyouthinktheypickedyouformebecauseyouhave
hislips?”

It'sthequestionthat'sbeennigglingbeneaththesurfacesincethefirsttimeIsawhim.Mydad's

lipswerethin,withascarononesidewhereheoncetookasliverofwoodtothefacewhilehewas
splittingitforthefireplace.James'slipsarefull,albeitdistortedindeath.MorelikeCalder's.Ifitwasn't
forthetattoosandthecolorofhishairandshapeofhisjaw,IcouldalmostbelievethatCalder'sbeen
herewithmethewholetime,alreadydead.

SoIclingtothedifferences,memorizingthecurvesandcolorsofthetattoo,andburningCalder

intothebackofmyeyelids.Thewayhishairshonealmostauburninbrightlight.Thesetofhisjawwhen
hecalledmeonalie.

ButIneedmore.WhenthebulletwentthroughJames'head,itwasslightlytooneside.Oneofhis

eyes,onceI'vepriedthelidup,islargelydiscoloredwithbloodanddamage,itscolorindistinguishable.
Buttheother...distinctlybrown.

IreleaseabreathIdidn'tknowIwasholding,andlayontheflooruntiltheworldstopsspinning.

Thedullacheinmystomach'sfaded,mybodyrealizingit'snolongerworthtellingmeI'mhungry,sinceI
can'tdoanythingaboutitanyways.Butitstillletsmeknow,inthedizziness.Timeformorewater,Iguess.

Calder'shandsglidingoverme,dippingbetweenmylegs,fingertipsdraggingalongthesideof

mybreasts.Hisbreathonmyear,hislipsbarelybrushingme.“Mil,we'renotgoingtohide.We'renot
goingtoletthemwin.TheywantedtokillmebecausetheyknewIcouldbeathreat.Instead,they've
mademeone.”

Idon'twanttoletthatbethelastword.Thisistooimportant.AndIdon'twanttobelittlehim,

sincehe'sproventobeadamngoodfighter,but“athreat”isseverelyoverstatingit.We'rechasing
ghosts,andthemorewetakeout,themoreofthemappear.

Iopenmymouthtoprotest,andhesilencesmewithafiercekiss,onethatstealsmybreathand

makesmearchoffthebed,pressingmylegstogether.Thatkiss...italmostmakesmebelievehim.It
almostmakesmebelievethatthetwoofuscantakeontheworldandwin.

Thetearsturncoldonmycheeks,butI'mtooexhaustedtosomuchaswipethemaway.There'sa

mildcreak,andoutofthecornerofmyeye,ashadowfallsacrossJames'sface,asthoughheturnedhis
headtolookatme.Iturntostareback,buttheshadow'sgone.

Oh,Calder.Please,besafe.

Four,CalderRoane

I'mhungover.AndIshouldn'tbe,sinceIdon'trememberthelasttimeIevendrank.Theroomiscold,
colderthanitshouldbe.Milla'sgonnashitabrickifshegetssickandhastotaketimeoffwork.But
noneofthewindowswereopen,sowhatcanIdo?There'snoreasonforthechillydraftagainstmyskin.

Asecondlater,itoccurstomethatMillawon'tcareabouttimeoffwork.Herjobnolonger

matters.Thattakesaguiltyweightoffme.Onelessworry.Irollontomyside,hopingtopullMillacloser,
letherwarmthchaseawaythebadmood.

It'sseverallongsecondsbeforeIremembershe'snothere.
IfIdidn'tknowbetter,I'dswearthatthepastyearofmylifewasadream,andI'mbackaboardthe

Siren,waitingtodie.ThatIneverleft.Exceptifthatwasthecase,Icouldstillhopetowakeupnextto
Milla.

EverytimeIthinkIhaveahandleonthings,IrealizehowwrongIamasecondlater.Twoyears

agomybiggestworrywasmymother'sbiologicalclockdemandingagrandkid,andtherealizationthatI
hadyettomeetawomanwhocouldmakemereconsidermyownirritationatkids.Then,aonenightstand
withabeautifulgoddamnwildcatchangedeverything.

IwokeuponthefloorofaroommuchliketheoneI'minnow,onlysmaller.IthoughtI'ddiethere.

AndthenIfoundcompanions,includingastriking,fierywomanwhostolemyheartsocompletelythat
evenfindingoutshewantedmedeadcouldn'tkeepmeawayfromher.

Awomanwho,evennow,iswearingmyring.Whopromisedtorunawaywithme,tosetasidethe

killingandthestruggleandletouroldlivesdie,startanewonetogether.

AwomanwhoIreachforeverytimeIwakeupalone.WhocouldbedyingasIspeak.
Or,whocouldbewaitingformetodie.
ItwouldbeonlytooeasytosayMilladeceivedmeagain,thatthisisanothermurderouspower

play.Buttheeasyanswerisn'ttheonlyone.I'vegotbloodonmyhands,too.Inthepastsixmonths,my
life'sbeentakenoverbytheneedtodefendmyselffromhit-menandenforcers.Andallofthemhave
endedupdead.I'dsaythat'splentyofotherreasonforsomeonetohaveitinforme.

And...ImadethechoicetotrustMillalongago.AsmuchasI'dsaythatcomesdowntopotentially

wrongheadedinstinctandgullibility,it'smorethanthat.I'veseenherinawaynooneelsehas;howshe
fights,howshefucks.Evenhowshecomes,herblue-greeneyeshalf-closedinecstasy.

No,Iknowhertoowell.Whateverthisis,it'ssurvival.
Imust'vebeendrugged;it'stakenalongtimetowearoff.First,thementalhazeleft,thenthe

nausea.Butthedizzinesshasstillmadeitseemlikegettinguptowalkaroundisn'tahighpriority.Itlooks
likeI'mgonnabehereawhile.

Still,there'sonlysolongIcanprocrastinate.Andtheroomhasareallyfoulreek,sothickIcan

tasteit.Itsitsinmymouthlikeacoatingofpondscum,andevenwhenIseeitssourceandstartretching,
thebile'sawelcomerelief.

They'veleftmeherewithacorpseforcompany.Anoldone,atthat.Thefloorinfrontofme's

riddledwithmanholes,theirlayouteerilysimilartotheflooringaroundtheballasttanksabouttheSiren.
There'sadejavutoitthat'sonlyamplifiedbythebody'stornsuit.

Ayearago,Iwatchedmybrotherdieinaplacealmostexactlylikethis.
Theaftermathnearlybrokeme.
ButI'mnotwhoIwas,then.I'masurvivor.I'mahunter.I—well,Ineverthoughtaboutdeathalot

untilpeopleactuallystartedtryingtokillme,butifI'mgonnago,it'snotgonnabequietly.I'mnotgonna
waitforthemtobreakmeattheirleisure.

Isthebodyathreat?Iftheymeantittobeathreat,it'samutedone.George'sdeathnolongerholds

anyhorrorforme;unknowingly,Milladidmeafavor.Georgewantedmedead.Unabletochallengehim.
Ormaybejusttakingtheblameforwhatevershadyshithewasworkingwiththemobon.MilandIstill
don'tknowtheextentofit,thoughwewerekillingourwaytowarddefiniteanswers.Italwayswould
havecomedowntohimorme,ifhe'dlived.AndI'mgladhedied.Isitpurelyaccidentalinstead,just
someoneshovingmesomewheretheycantakecareofmelater?Wherethey'vealreadytakencareof
someoneelse?

Ikneelbyhim,settingmyjawagainstthesmell.
He'sobviouslybeenhereawhile.Well,somewhere.Notenoughmesstobehere.Andhisflesh

hasseparatedfromhisbones,largely,spreadinglikeapancakeontheground.Hewasalreadyprettyfar
gonewhenhewasmoved,judgingbythediscoloredskinwherethebloodhadoriginallysettledpost
mortem.Theidea'sstomach-turning.

Hisfaceisdistorted,andrestsagainstthelipofthetankatanunevenangle.Ittakesmeaminuteto

realizewhy.Thebackhalfofhisskullisgone,andhisneck'sshattered.ItwouldbethemostsickthingI'd
everseen,ifIhadn'tseenitbefore.

TheyadvisedmeagainstgoingtoseeGeorge'sbody,whenIwokeup.ButIwasinsistent.

Hobbleddownthreeflightswithmycanetoarguewiththewomanmanningthemorguedeskuntilanurse
frommyfloorcaughtupwithme.Theyweremostlyjuststoringhimthereuntiltheycouldconfirm
instructionsonhandlinghim.Cremation.Thatwasthefinalverdict.

Whetherornotitwasintendedasahintormessage,itactsasonenonetheless.I'mnotgonnadie

here.

Millamentionedthetankswereusuallyinterconnected,toallowthewatertospillintoanother

tankandevenoutthewaterlevels,ifneedbe.Whilemybrotherwasbobbinginthewater,seconds
countingdown'tilhisdeath,shewasswimmingthroughthoseaqueducts.

Ifthere'snootherwayoutofhere,thatmightbemyonlyoption.
Everyexit'sblockedoff,buttheyleftmeacontainerwithbottlesofwaterandcrackers.Obviously

someoneexpectsI'mgonnabehereawhile.Andtheywantmealivewhentheycomeback.

That...entitlement...gratesundermyskin.Iftheywantmehere,Isureasfuckdon'twanttobehere

whentheycomeback.I'mnotgonnasitquietlyandwaittodie.I'mnotgonnapicnic,pretendingIcan't
smellthehalf-decomposedsackofmeattheyleftmewith.

Iswigalittlewater,butthat'sthemostI'mgonnaacceptthisgame.Justtopersuademyselfthat

there'snootheroption,Ithrowthefoodintothetank.I'dratherfuckingstarvethanplayintosomeone's
sickgambit.

Havingthepotentialtomaintainthestatusquogone,Ibreathefreer.AndIholdmybreath,and

steadymyselfontheedgeofthetank,lookingdownintothefilthywaterbelow.It'salmostnauseating,
thinkingofGeorge,thinkingofhowIthoughtMilladiedthere,too.EverydeathIimaginedinthatblack
water.

Butshedidn't.Shelived.AsI'mgonna.
Iletgoofthelipofthetankandleanforward,lettingmybodyplummettointothewaitingdepths.

Five,Milla

Thewater'salmostgone.Yesterday,Ifoundatinofwhatlookslikesomekindofmealration—bland,
greasy,andtasteless.Mystomachhatedit.Mystomachhatesalotofthings,now.Theweightofthewater
istheonlythingthatdilutesthepainofthecramps.

Everythingfeelssurreal;myskinitches,awarm,crawlyfeeling.Butthatwarmthistheclosest

thingtocomfort,inaroomcoldenoughtoslowacorpse'sdecay.It'sawonderIhaven'tgotten
hypothermia.

Myhandclattersthroughemptytins,untiltheplasticofthenextbottlemeetsmyfingers.“Areyou

hungry,too,James?”Ilaugh,breathlessly.“Whad'youwant?IcouldgoforaniceReuben.OraBLT.”

Noanswer.Thereneveris.
“Youknow,Iprobablyshouldseesomethingkarmicinthis.Imean,youshould'veseenthem,

whenIwasthroughwiththem.”

Silence.Ichoosetotakethatasencouragement.OrmaybeIjustdon'twanttohearitcontinue.

“God,itwassosatisfying.Evenifthatfatfuckwhotriedshovinghismeatyfingersinmedidgetoffeasy
—hedeservedsomuchworsethanapeacefuloverdose.WhatIwouldn'tgivetodothatoneoveragain.
Savesomesedativeforsomeotherdeservingcowlicker.”

Iscrewthecapbackonthebottle,anddropit,alittletooheavily.Mygrip'sdefinitelyweakening.

ItknocksintoJames'sleg,andapencilfallsoutofhispocket.HowdidImissthatwhenIsearchedhim
thefirsttime?

“You'reholdingoutonme,eh,oldman?”
Iwinkathim,asthoughhemightwinkback,despitehisbrokenface.Myeyebrowsknittogether

—Icould'veswornhedidn'thavethatscaronhislipwhenIlookedcloser.Ohwell.It'stheisolation.It
feelslikemybrain'sinahamster-wheel,runningrunningrunninginplace,untiltherealityaroundme
distorts.TwohoursagoIthoughtthewallswerestreamingwithwater,untilItouchedthemandtheywere
perfectlydry.Thethingstheminddoestokeepitselfbusyinstressfulsituations,Iguess.

“Oh—well,Ihaven'tdrawnsinceIwasakid,butI'llshowyou.”
Apregnantpause,onethatseemstohaveanimpliedquestion.Ipressasheetofpapertothewall

nexttohischair,andstartsketching.“Why'dIgiveitup?Idunno—itjustseemedtherewasnevergonna
beanythingtodowithit.Iwasn'tgonnagotoschoolforarchitectureoranything,tohaveanythinguseful
tobuildwithit.Andcanyouimaginemeanartist?”

Jamesloomsoverme,hishairpalerinthelightfromthisangle.
“Iknow,Iknow—butnoteverytalenthastobeutilized.”
Anotherpause.
“Oh,don'tlookatmelikethat.Thatwasn'tself-pityorbitchiness.Ilikeworkingwithmyhands.

I'dhavehatedgoingtocollege,orartschool.”

Ifocusonmyfirstsketch,ofAlex'sbody,andthetextureoftheburnsthegratingleftcarvedinto

hisface.I'vealmostcapturedtheannoyed,insecurelookhehadwhenhewasalive.

“Youknow?Noonecandoeverything.Iwasneversupposedtobeanartist.Awelder,someone

tomaketheboysworkhardertokeepup,maybe.Akiller,certainly.Butneveranartist.Youhavetobe
softtobeanartist.”

Iglanceathim,andhislipsarenarrower,hisjawlinesquarer.ButwealreadyknowIcan'ttrust

myeyes.

“Well,aftermydaddied—theguyyou'redressedupas,bytheway—therejustwasn'troomfor

softness.Youshowasecondofsoftness,andthey'reatyourthroatwiththeknife.”

Ileanbacktoinspectmyhandiwork,andJames'scoldthighsarerefreshinglysolidatmyback.

I'vealmostforgottenwhatitfeltliketonotbedizzy.

Idropthepaperandpickupanother.

***

Thepaperspileuparoundmyankles.Sketchesofthelittlethingsthatstuckwithme,likethewaythe
brokenbonesinDenise'slegslooked.It'sexhilarating,rememberingwhentheworldwaswider,andI
couldhaveahandinrightingatleastsomeofthewrongsplayingoutaroundme.

Butastimegoeson,thesketchesincreasinglyfixateononesubject:Calder.
Defininghisfaceingraphiteandpaper,it'salmostasnaturalastouchingitmyself,tracingthe

curvesofhischeekbones.Ipressmythumbtothepagetosmoothoutadenseline,smearingitintothe
blankspacesurroundingit,andmythumbcomesbackdark.It'salmostlikefingerpainting.Ilovethe
tactilenatureofit.

“Iknow,Iknow.Worryingdoesn'tdoanygood.Eitherhe'sokayorheisn't.”
Oneofthecorpse'shandsdrapesathisside,brushingagainstmyshoulder.Ichoosetotake

comfortinit.

“Thanks.He'sstrong.I'mgonnainterpretthatasagoodsign.”
Thedistinction'sblurring,withhisshiftingfeatures.Thedifferencesarelessapparent,andlooking

upathim,Ifeelsosmall.Ormaybeit'seasiertoseeJamesaslarge.“You'd'velikedhim,Ithink.Hedoes
whathastobedone,andhe'sgothisownkindofintegrity.Thatwaswhatfirstsoftenedmetohim,you
know.”

Fuck,Ihatethehumofthelightbulb.MakesmefeellikeI'mamosquito,flutteringtomyblue-

glowingdoom.

“No,I'mnotjustsayingthatbecauseIwantyoutobeokaywiththechoicesI'vemadeforhim.I

don'tneedyourapproval.I'mnotyourlittlegirl,waitingfortheokaytogoplaywithafriend.Youweren't
here,soyoudon'tknowwhatI'veseen.WhatI'vedone.I'mprettyokayonmyown.Ijustthoughtthat
you'dseesomethingofyourselfinhim.He'sgotthatrebelliousstreakyouhave,thekindthatwouldn'tlet
yousitdownandshutupwhenRoanewastryingtofibaboutwhathispoliciesweregonnado.”

Iholdupmynewestdrawing,oneofCalderwakingup,hiseyeshalf-liddedandsleepy.Idon't

daredrawhimallthewayasleep—it'stooclosetodead.Idon'tneedtovisualizethat.

“He'sjust—Idon'tknow.Whenyoufirstmeethim,he'sgotthisalphathing.Helikesthehunt,likes

thepower.Andhecanberuthless,whenhewantstobe.Butyougetalittledeeper,andyourealizeit's
becausehelikesworkingwithpeople,seeingthingstakeshape.Andthat'sthepartthatdoesn'tfucking
rest.”

Goosebumpsraiseonmyarms—didhisfingerjusttwitch,tostrokemyshoulder?
“I'msurehe'sfighting.Imean,whoevenknowshowlongI'vebeeninhere—that'snotagreatsign.

Maybehisfightalreadyended,andhelost.Butifhe'salive,he'sfighting.Andifnot,well,hefought.”

Ishiftmyarm,pullingitawayfromhishand.I'msuretheangercoursingthroughmeisdisplaced,

butthatdoesn'tmakeitanylessvirulent.“Hewouldn'tabandonme.Hewouldn'tmakeadeal,or
whatevertheywant,andleavemehere.Maybeitwouldbethesmartthingtodo,andIcouldn'tblamehim
ifhedid,butyoudon'tknowhimlikeIdo.Hewouldn'tleavemehere.”

Thelightflickers.Please,don'tletthebulbburnout.
“Okay,okay—I'msorryIsnapped.It'sjustasorespot.Canwetalkaboutlighterstuff?The

pencil'salmostdeadanyways,andit'snotlikeIhaveasharpener,eh?”

Itakeanotherlongpullfromthewaterbottle.Talkingreallydriesmythroatout.Iprobablyshould

stop,soIcanmakethewaterlastlonger.Butwhofuckingcares?I'mdead,anyways.

“Mygod,though—Iknowit's...it'sfuckeduptolookatthisshitwithpride—”Igestureatthe

earlydrawings,intheirfullgruesomeglory.“It'sjust—it'samazingbeingpartofthisprocess,basically
theoldestthingintheworld.Theoneinevitability.Everything'sso...sanitary...nowadays.Ifyoudidn'tgo
outofyourwaytoexposeyourselftoit,you'dneverknowtheindignitiesthathappenafterdeath,whenthe
soul'sseveredfromtheshell.Talkaboutpower.”

AsIshiftthedrawings,myarmbrusheshishandagain.“No,Idon'tthinkthatCaldergotatasteof

thatpower,andwantsmore.Idon'tthinkhe'dleavemeinheretogethimselfbackoutintheworld,
pickingvictims.He'snotlikethat.Youjusthaven'tgivenhimachance—”

WhatthefuckamIdoing,arguingwithagoddamncorpse?Iclamthehellup,pressingtrembling

lipstogether.Myheadfeelssofuckingheavy.Igulpmorewater,andclosemyeyes.Myheaddropsback,
againstcoldflesh.

Idon'tneedtobetoldthatI'mcrazytoknowit.It'sjustasobvioustomeasitistopoorinanimate

James.Why'dInamehimthatagain?Itdoesn'tseemtofitanymore.

AssoonasI'msteadier,Ireturntomydrawings,sketchingoutCalder'sthicklashesandthebridge

ofhisnose.Itseemsalmostfunnyrightnow,howhardIfoughtagainsthim.HowIpushedhimtobemad
atme,sinceitwaseasiertotakethanlettinghimtouchmeortreatmelikehetrustedme.

But—thewayhiseyeslitupwhenhearguedwithme.Later,thewayhe'dletmefighthim,and

wrestlemedownuntilIcouldunleashmyanger,safeinmyowndefeat.He'safighter.Hecanholdhis
own.

Unlesshe'sstarvingtodeathsomewherelikethis,hiswell-formedfaceslowlybecomingmore

gaunt,andhismuscleswhittledawayuntilhe'slittlemorethanaskeletonwitheyes.

Shit.Mydrawing'sruined.He'sbonyandemaciated.
Istartanother,framinghisfulllipsandslopingjawline,workingmywayuptocapturethe

mischievoussparkleinhiseyes.Hishandathisforehead,smoothinghishairback,anunconsciousgesture
heonlypickedupaftertheybroughtusofftheSiren,whenhewasfacedwithhisnewfound
claustrophobiaandneededtospendasmuchtimeaspossiblewiththewindinhishair.

Buthishandhasbrokenfingers.
Shit.Anotherportraitruined.Thisonegetscrumpledandflungatthesteeldoor.
Thistime,Idrawhimwithallofhisinnerfire.Hiseyeswide,takinginhissurroundings,readyto

lashoutatamoment'snoticeagainstanythreat.Hisjawset,butcalmineverytautinchofhim.Likehe
wasoutofbody,engagedinsomenew-ageyphysicalmeditationtoavoidmissingasinglethreataround
him.Harshlighting,emphasizingeyesandlips,barelyahighlightacrossthefarcheekbone...

Andasmudge,loominglargeacrosshisface.Bruising.Himstrugglingtostayconsciousthrough

theblows,thoughhecan'tanticipatethemall.

Godfuckingdamnit.
Ifinishoffthebottletoclearthetasteofbilefromthebackofmythroat,andstartagain.
Hisfacepeaceful,asoftsmileonhislips.ThewayhelooksatmejustafterIcome,mybody

grippinghisfingers,ordick,orarchingintohislips.Ahandathismouthtowipemyarousalaway,the
softveinsgentlypulsingashetwistshishandtolickthetasteofmeoffhisfingers...

Andaharshlinedownhiswrist.Downtheroad,notacrossthestreet.
Idropthepaperandleanforward,myforeheadcollidingwiththewallwithadullclang.I

shouldn'tcry,shouldn'twastethelimitedwaterIhaveontears,butIcan'thelpit.

Myfingerisunnervinglylightwithouthisring.Myworld'sunnervinglydarkknowinghe'sdead.

Ordeadtome.

Ishouldn'tbealonerightnow.Orshouldn'tfeelalone.That'snotgonnahelpmefixanything.
IleanbackagainandwrenchJames'shandtomyhair.Pretend'sbetterthannothing,Iguess.
SolongasIdon'topenmyeyestoseehisdamagedskullblockingthelight,IcanpretendI'ma

childagain,restingmyheadagainstmydad'slegwhilehewatchesTV.Icanpretendtheworld'sokay.

Andthen,asmyeyesdriftshut,avoiceringsinmyears.
“Poorkiddo.Letitout.Letitout.”
Ido,lettingthetearsstreamdownmycheeksunchecked,imaginingJames'sstiffhandsreplaced

withwarmones,gentleones.

Six,Calder

Thetanksdoconnect.TheaqueductsareterrifyinglylongandforafewmomentsIswearI'mseconds
awayfromrunningoutofoxygen,butsomehow,Icomethroughintact.ThefirstfourIswimthroughand
climboutofareinthesameroom.Butthefifthisn't.Andthere'snothinginthisroomtoindicatetheyknew
thisiswhereI'dendup.Forthemoment,I'msafeandatleasttemporarilyfree.

AsIwaitforthebrackishwatertodry,Iexplore.ThisisthelargestshipI'veeverbeenon,and

there'sseverallockeddoors,andaportionofthemaindeckblockedoffbyshippingcontainers.

Still,whenIdiscoverapantry,stackedtotheceilingwithcannedfood,portableheaters,water

bottles,Ican'thelpgettingalittlecocky.Fuckthosebullshitsnackstheyleftme.Theywon'tknowwhat
hit'emwhenIfinisheating,andfindingMilla.She'sgottobeherewithme.I'mtornbetweengorgingon
thefood,justbecauseIcan,andnotwantingtoeatanotherbiteuntilshe'ssittingnexttome,eatingtoo.
Smilingthatmysterioushalf-grinofhers,theonethatsayssheseesajokenooneelsedoes.

Theprocessedchiliandcannedpeachestastelikeafeast.Andthefreshairmakesitmore

delectable,still.Youneverknowquitewhatbeautythereisinsimplyexistingintheworlduntilyou've
beencloisteredawayfromit,waitingtodie.I'msurroundedbyopenwater.Nolandinsight.

Ican'thearthesoundsofpeopleworking—whatever'shappeninghere,itmustbeaskeletoncrew

behindthelockeddoors.Maybetheyaren'tevencheckingonme.Probablysomekindofremote
surveillance—that'swhatMilladid,untilIstarteddestroyinghercameras.

Theupperfloorsaresealedtight,whichmeansIhavenowayofgettinguptothebridge.Idon't

thinkwe'removing,butthisplaceisn'ttoodecrepit.Thatmeanstheradioequipment'sprobably
operational.Eventhestairwaysattachedtotheexterioropenintolockeddoors.Andifwalkingupfifteen
flightstotal,tocheckaroundvariousdifferentdecksdoesn'tmakeamanfeellikeaguineapig,Idon't
knowwhatwill.

Onlythefamiliarityhelpsmekeepholdofmyemotions.I'velivedthroughthissortofhellonce;I

candoitagain.

Thefirsttime,IhadMillathough.Thatthoughtstopsmeinmytracks.Idon'tentirelyknowifI

cansurvivealone.EspeciallyifthenextbodyIstumbleacrossishers...

Justthethoughtofthatfillsmewithanxiousenergy.I'mnotgonnabeabletositorsleepuntilI've

doublecheckedonelasttimethatshe'snotpastanyoftheunlockeddoors.

AtleastIcansettleonthemaindeck,providedit'snottoocoldatnight.Beingabletoseethe

naturalshiftsisgonnabeahugeblessing,oneIshouldsavor.

I'llkeeptearingthisplaceuntilIfindher,whethershe'saliveordead.Ijusthavetohopethatmy

instinctsareright,andthattheyhaven'talreadykilledher.Thisistoosimilarformetothinkanythingelse.
SomeonegotasuspicionaboutwhathappenedaboardtheSiren,andthenwhenevenmoremafiahelpers
turnedupdead,decidedithadtobeoneofus.Maybetheythinkit'sme;Millacertainlydoesn'tlook
threateningenoughtobeadeviouskiller.Butevenso,they'relikelytonotletherdiesoeasily.They'll
wanttodrawitout,makeitassickeningaspossible.

IhatethinkingofherasSchrodinger'scat.Hateparsingouthersufferinglikethis.Butit'stheonly

wayIcanfocus;atleastthissickthoughtprocessleavesroomforafuturewhereIwakeupeverymorning
inmybed,inherarms.

Wasshetakenwithme?Didtheyleaveherasleep,andonlytaketheonetheypeggedasthe

mastermind?Idon'trememberverymuchaboutthatnight.ButI'msureshewasnexttomewhenwewent
tobed.Iscratchmyheadanddigdeeper,fightingforanyshredofmemorythatmighthelp.Ithinkwe
wereinavan.IthinkIrememberherbodyagainstmine.Thefeelofhershirtchafingmybareshoulders
asmomentumtossedusaround.Wait—amIthinkingofsomethingelse?Shesleepsnaked,thevast

majorityofthetime.Partlybecauseofherextremedislikeofwetlaundryandthedesiretodoaslittle
laundryaspossible.Sheonlysleepsclothedwhenshe'smad,andwantsthephysicalbarrier.SurelyI've
gotitwrong,amthinkingofsomethingelse.

Iprobablyhadaweirddreamorsomething.Itwouldn'tbethefirsttimeIhadanightmareabout

thetwoofusbeinghustledawaytogether,tobeshotexecution-styleorsomething.Hazardofthetrade,I
guess.

Ineverimaginedanyofthis.Neverwantedit,either.
Butit'snotlikeIhaveanyoptionotherthantofight.IfIkeeplooking,I'llfigureoutsomewayto

pickalock,removeahinge,somethingtogetintotheremainingforbiddenspaces.I'llfindMilla,and
we'llfigureoutawaytoescape.

Maybe,ifIsayittomyselfoftenenough,it'llbecomeaself-fulfillingprophecy.

***

DayspassasIsearch.ButI'veyettofindanything.I'musedtothequiet,theslowburn.It'sstoppedbeing
frightening,butitremainsdiscouraging.

I'mbeginningtogiveuphope.Theyprobablythoughtthattheyonlyneededme,andkilledMilla

whentheytookme.Maybeshefought.Ormaybeshebargained,andtheyaccepted.Ican'tholditagainst
her,thoughfightingtoseparateherfrommydreamsofbeinganoldmanstrollingthebeach,herhandin
minemightkillme.

Becauseit'seasierthanacceptingthatthewomanIloved,thatIthoughtcouldsurviveanythingis

dead,Itrytoconvincemyselfthatshedoesn'tdeservemymourning.Thatshe'sinonit.Thatthememory
ofherclothesagainstmybackandherfingertipsbrushingmineistrue.Thatshewasdressedand
prepared,notcaughtbysurprise.Ireplaythememoryofthatlastnighttogether,againandagain,looking
forsomelieorflawinher.

Somuchofherskinexposed,beggingformytouchunderthigh-highstockingsandashort

skirt.Alongnight'swork,thoughonethat'sleftmorebloodonmethanher.Ipeeleachgarmentoffher
withthementalitythatI'munwrappingthemostpreciousholidaygiftI'veeverbeengiven.Because
sheis.

Butshe'sshaken,lipspursedtightasshetriestoenjoymytouchwithabandon.Ican'tblame

her.Ofallthepainwethoughtmightcometousforourfight,weneverconceivedofacircumstance
whenmybody—mydick—mightbecomeaweapontohurther.Andme.ForallthepainI'vecausedher,
overpoweringherwhilegivingherpleasure,I'veneverseenthatparticulardeadnessanddesperation
inhereyes.It'sthetruestthingaboutthoseminutes,hermouthonmycockwhiletheywatched.They
corruptedbothofus,inoneunwittinglyfellswoop.

Shestandsnakedbeforeme,everybeautifulinchofhersimultaneouslyperfectandflawed.A

seriesofdipsintheskinathertemplemarkwheresheoncewashitintheheadbyfallinglumber,at
work.ThescarwhereIstabbedherblendswithfrecklesandanaturaltan.Herskinglowswhiteonher
stomachwhereIoncelashedaknifeacrossherformerlysmoothflesh.Andoneofhershapelythighsis
mottledwithscars,someraisedandshallow,andsomeredanddeep.Theyextenddowntohercalf,
too.Herbodytellsastoryofpainandfear,ofloveandvengeance.Ofsurvivalandstrength.

“Comeon,birdie.It'sbeenalongday.Shower,thenbed.”
Shebitesherlipandnods.“Aquickone.We'vegottagettobedsoon.Earlymorningandall.”
Maybeit'sjustreticencebecauseofwhatwe'veendured,andthelingeringconflictinherwhen

shelooksatme.Butthinkingonitnow,Ican'tbepositive.Igrimaceandlickmylips,wishingIcouldjust
enjoythatcurvaceousbodydisplayedforme,evenifit'sonlyinmyhead.

EvenwhenIrecallhernakedinbednexttome,theskepticismstays.

Hersilkyskinglowsinthelimitedlightofmydarkbedroom,tenderhighlightsilluminatedbya

lightinthehall.Thevulnerabilityandviolenceinherentinherareindefiniteconflict,hermuscles
tenseasshestrugglestolaycalmlywithme.

“Nowonderyouweredone,Mil.Nowonderthings'vebeen...rocky.”Isqueezeherhand.

“We'renotgonnadothatagain.You'renotgonnahaveto—”Ican'tfinish.

“Theimportantthingis,we'retogether.Firstthingtomorrow,we'llgetourshittogetherand

takeoff.Somewherewarm,wherenooneevenknowswhattheSchroedersyndicateis.”

“Areyousure?”sheasks,browsknittogetherinfrustration.“Isitbecauseyoukilledthat

guy?”

“Youshouldknowbetterthantoask.We'reinthistogether,butifitcomestobeinggunned

downtogetherorsittingonabeachtogether,there'snochoice.And,theycould'vedonemore.Death's
nottheworstthingonthemenu.I'mnotgonnaseeyoutorturedformystubbornness.AndIdon'tknow
thatpinningmyhopesonmyowntalentsisgonnabeagoodgamble.

“Thisisjust—justtoomuch.AndIjustwantyou.Fuckthetruth,fucklettingthemwin.Fuck

lookingoverourshoulders.Myprioritieshavebeenfucked.IthinkIstartedtolearnthattheother
night,whenyou—”Ichoke,onceagainunabletocompletethethought.Istillhaven'tgottenpasther
tryingtokillherself,evenifIdon'tthinkitwasaseriousattempt.SoIclingtothemostimportant
thingIcan—her.“ButnowIknowit.God.Thelookinyourseyeswhenhe—”

“Shh,”shesays,herlowtonecomforting.“We'refine.You'vesurvivedworse.”Something

lingersbetweenus,thoughI'mnotsurewhat.Guilt?Pride?

“No,Idon'tknowthatIhave.I'vebeenscaredoutofmymind.I'vebeenfightingformylife.

I'vebeenterrifiedforthepeopleIlove.ButI'veneverbeenmadeintoaweaponagainstthepeopleI
love.Thisisn'tarusheddecision.Thisisn'ttheadrenalineofthemomenttalking.ThisiswhatIwant.I
can'tseesomeoneelse'sfingerprintsonyouandnotmakeitmyfault.”

“Okay.Thenwe'llrun.”
Sheholdsme,herheartbeatpressingintomychestandmatchingwithmyown.It'stooeasy.
“Thatsimple?You'renotplanninganything?”
“No,silly.I'mnotplanninganything.Guessitisthatsimple.”
Shewrapsherarmsaroundme,hereyesdriftingshut.Hernoseticklesthehollowofmythroat

witheveryinhale.Still,something'soff.

Takinghercuefrommytension,shepullsbackandlooksatmeclosely.Shesmiles,amuch

lighteronethanI'veseenonherinsometime.Itpullsanansweringsmilefromme.Ineedtofeelher
lips,softandfull.I'mexhausted,drainedtoallhellbytheday.

Hersmile'senoughtosootheme,easetheanxietyandadrenalineofmyfirstkills,oftheshit

thatmightbeinourpathswhenwetrytorun.Itakestrengthinit,andletsleepclaimme.

OnlylaterdoIwakeup,realizingthatthesmilewaspurelyformybenefit.Idon'tknowwhy

shefeltsheneededtolie;maybeitwasonlytokeepmecalm.

Or,lookingbackonit,maybeitwasbecausesheknewwhatwascoming,andknewitneededto

catchmeoffguard.

ForallthesecretsI'velearned,shestillhassomanymore,I'msure.Maybetheyaren'tonesthat

couldhurtme,but...maybetheyare.

UntilIfindher,Iwon'tknow.
Itbecomesanobsession,onethatmakesitdifficulttoeatandsleep.Ihavetoknow.There'sgotta

besomethingIcandootherthanwanderincircles,climbingstairsuntilmylegsache.Orheavingagainst
lockeddoors,tryingtofindanywaytoknockthehingesaway.Butthesethingsaremadetotakeabeating;
Ihaveyettogetsomuchasasingledoorjimmiedopen.

Maybetheroutineofitiswhat'skeepingmefromgettinganywherenew.FuckknowsIcouldbe

missingsomethingunorthodox,likemydipinthetanks.Ashiplikethis,therecouldbeanynumberof
pipestoslipthrough,ortanksthatconnectinmultipleareasoftheenginerooms.

Icouldroamthisshipforyearsandneverfindallofitshidey-holes.
IfIdon'tkillmyselffirst,walkingintoamovingenginepartorsomething.Andifthefooddoesn't

spoilorrunlow.

Shit.I'vegottokeeplooking.
Onmysecondflightdownintothebowels,nearingthefirstoftheenginelevels,amufflednoise

raisesthehaironmyneck.IfIdidn'tknowbetter,I'dsaythatwasascream.There'senoughnoiseshere
thatIcan'tbesure,though;itcouldjustbeanungreasedhinge.

Butlikeanidiot,I'malreadystartingtowardit,listeningforittohappenagain.

Seven,Milla

Idon'trememberwhenIrealizedI'dusedallthepaperIwasgiven.Frontandback,it'scoveredin
sketches.Somehow.I'mnotentirelyclearonhowthepencilnevergotdull.Maybeit'saHanukkah
miracletypething.

“Youknow,thosearen'thalfbad.”
James'sgotanicevoice,deeperthanatenor,butnotquiteabaritone.Ishouldbeworriedabout

himtalkingtome,butI'mfranklytooexhausted.Andhe'sbeendoingitfor,well,Ican'tbesurehowlong,
butI'vegonetosleepseveraltimessincehefirstspoke.Idon'tevenbotherlookingathim.

“Inevergot'emright.WhichadageamIsupposedtosubscribeto,rightnow?Repeating

somethingandexpectingdifferentresultsisthedefinitionofinsanity?Orpracticemakesperfect?”

“Ididn'texpectyoutohavethatsmartmouth.”
Theconversationisevenmorecomplicatedbecauseastime'sgoneon,James'sturnedevenmore

intomydad.Daybyday,asthoughheweresheddinghisskin,hisscarshavemorphed,contouring
formerlysmoothskinorfadingawayentirely.Thetattoo'sfaded,oratleastblendedinwiththe
discolorationsofdecomposition.And—whoeverhewasinlife,that'snotwhohespeaksas.

“Whynot?BecauseMomwaspoliteashell,andIlookmorelikeher?”
“Iguess.”
“WellthentrustmewhenIsayyoudidn'tknowherverywell.Maybehalfofherjustwentover

yourhead.Ormaybeshejustdidn'treallytalktoyoumuch.Butshewasmorethanadequateattearing
someoneapartwithwords.Maybethepolitenessevenmadeitworse.”

“Ifyousayso.Youdolooklikeher,youknow.Exceptforthe—”
“Iknow.Exceptfortheeyes.Everyonesaysso.It'sgottenhardtoseeitasacompliment.”
“Maybeyouweretoohardonher?”
“Ifthat'swhereyou'regonnasteerthings,maybeyoushouldshutup,andletmegoinsanein

peace.”

“ButifIwasn'ttalkingtoyou,howwouldyouknowyou'regoinginsane?”
“Neverdoubtme.I'dfindaway.”
Ineedtodosomethingotherthanindulgemyimagination.“Thisprobablysoundstupid,butdo

youmindifIgetpersonalaminute?You'vegotsomemorepaper,andIkindawanttokeepbusy.”

“Surething.”
Iheavemyselftomyknees,thoughthatmakestheworldspin,andrummageinJames'spockets.
“Oooh,yeah,alittletotheleft,girl—almostthere—”
“You'reanasshole.”Iyankmyhandbackasfastaspossible.“That'screepy.”
“Hey.I'mnottheoneabouttogetupcloseandpersonalwiththe—”
“Ifyoudon'tshutthefuckup,I'mgonnastuffsomeofthedeadpaperdownyourthroat.”
“Okay—yeesh.Touchy,touchy.”
Iflopbackontomyrump,joltingthenotebook.I'veonlygotitbyacover,andevenmygripon

that'sprecarious.Apaperfallsout.

Iunfoldit,curiouswhetherit'llhaveenoughblankspacetodraw.Denselinesoftext—somekind

ofspreadsheet.Buthalfthenumbersarecoveredinwhite-out.It'sdefinitelymydad'shandwriting—I'd
knowhisknobbly,angularlettersanywhere.

Itseemstobetrackingthecostsofrepairs.Andthenumberswrittenoverthewhite-outaresolidly

inlinewithwhatthatthingprobablycostfifteenyearsago.Butthenumbersunderthewhite-out,whenI
scratchitawaywithahard-bittennail?Muchhigher.

So—what?Wassomeonedoingmoreworkthanordered?OramImissingthecrucialpieceofthe

puzzle,andthinkingthewrongthingentirely?Thoseblanked-outnumbersmakemyheadache.Whywas
mydadhelpingthemalterit?Hisscrawledsignaturefinisheseveryline.Obviouslyhe'swellawareof
whythethingswould'vebeenchanged.

“Somethingyouwanttotellme?”
“I'mjustafigmentofyourimagination.Idon'tknowwhatyouexpectmetosay.”
“Okay,well,try.Whywereyouhelpingforgerecords?”It'saneeriedejavu,afterhelpingCalder

trackdownwhowasforginghisownsignature.

“MaybeI'mjustnotwhoyouthoughtIwas,kiddo.”
“Whothefuckareyou,then?”
Ithurtsraisingmyvoicelikethat.Imustsoundshrillashell.
Jamesissilent.“Fuckyou,answerme!”Iscreamatthetopofmylungs.“Whatthefuckisthis?”
IscreamuntilI'mhoarse,andswigwatertorevitalizemyachingthroat.Iheavemyselfunsteadily

tomyfeet.“Answerme!”

James'sstifffleshgivesundermyhands,someoftheskinlooseningfromthetissuebeneathit.

He'sripeningfast.

“Answer,damnyou!”
Ishovehim,andhetopplesoutofhischair,splatteringmoreofthehalf-driedviscerainsidehis

skullonthegroundIhavetosleepon.Helookssopathetic,sovulnerable.“I'msorry,I'msorry,I'm
sorry,”Iplead,andcurlupwithhim,plaguedbyguilt.“Ididn'tmeanthat—don'tleaveme,don'tleave
me...”

Iftherewasanythinginthisroombutthatmotherfuckingcorpse,I'dprobablykillmyselfwithit.

Eight,Calder

I'vetriedeverydoorinthishalltentimes,butthere'snodoubtfromtheshrieksthatI'mclose.Finally,I
shovemyweightintotherightone,anditcreaksopen.

Thefirstthingthathitsmeisthesmell,apungentblendofhumanfilthanddecay.Myeyesstruggle

toadjust,astheroomissomuchdarkerthanthehall.ButintimeImakeouttwobodies,huddledonthe
floor.One'sclearlydead;Icanmakeouttheinsideofhisskull.

Buttheotherone'sfaceisshieldedbyamessofstrawberry-blondehair.Evenfallingaroundher

instringywaves,Iknowitwithoutquestion:Milla.

Shedoesn'tseemtoknowI'mhere.Eitherthat,orshe'sdead.Idon'tseeanywounds,butit'shard

tomakeoutanythingpastthedirtencrustinghercurves.Ican'tmakeoutasinglethreadofclothingonher,
despitethechill.“Mil?”

Shedoesn'trespond.
Herkneerestsonasheetofpaperonthefloor,andshe'ssurroundedbyawholemessofempty

jugs,butIcan'tseeaweapon.“Birdie?”

IpropthedooropenbeforeIstepintoapproachher.ThelastthingIneedistobelockedinhere,

too.It'scold,socold,inhere,andIstrokethegoosebumpsonherarms.Still,noreaction.

Herhandsareclenchedononeofthecorpse's,herknuckleswhitewiththeintensityofhergrip.

Hisarmdrapesoverhershoulder,heldinplace.

“I'mhere,birdie.Lethimgo.Youcangetoutofhere.Comeon,Milla—”Ipryherfingersoff,one

byone.Sheletsoutashrieklikeabanshee,andimmediatelytightenshergrip,fightingme.“Lethimgo,
baby.There'snothingforyouhere.Letgo.”

Irritationwarswithrelief;she'salive,butplainlyinbadshape.Andjustlikethat,theannoyanceis

replacedwithburningguilt.HereI'vebeenlookingforsomewaytoputfaultonher,whileshe'sbeen
wastingaway.ThemoreIwrestlewithher,themoreacutelyawareIbecomeofeverybonepoking
throughwheretherewereonceonlysmoothcurves.

Ithrowherovermyshoulder,andwalkbackintothehall.Maybetheopenairwilldohersome

good.Icanputherinthestairwellbythemaindeck,whereshe'snotlikelytorolloverboardifshetries
walkingsomewhereandtrips.Buttheairwillhelp.Andit'sevenstilldaylight;that'llbeatreatforher,
too.

Shewigglesfeebly,andthoughIknowit'smeantasastruggle,it'simpossiblenottolaughatits

ineffectiveness.Butmylaughtersetshertotrembling,soItrytokeepittomyself.Theimportantthingis
thatshe'salive.MaybeI'llhavetoteaseheraboutitlater,butfornow,sheneedsmetotakecareofher.

Sheneedsmylove.
IsetheronthelandingasgentlyasIcan.Shethrashes,bitingherlipinherfury.Istraddleher,

pinninghertothegroundwithmyhandunderthebackofherheadtocushionit.

“Breathe,love.Breathe.”Iexaggeratemybreaths,makingtheairwhistleagainstmyteeth.

Gradually,herbreathingfallsintorhythmwithit.“Good.Good.Keepbreathing.”

Hereyesbegintofocusonmine,thoughit'simpossibletotellifsheactuallyseesme,forallthe

recognitioninthem.

“Goodtohaveyouback,love.Areyoucalm?CanIleaveyouhere?”
Instantly,shebeginsbuckingunderme.
“Okay—youdon'twanttobealone.ButIdon'tthinkyou'reupforalongwalk.Doyouwant

anythingfromyourroom?”

Iputmyhandonhershouldertostillher,butshescreams.OnlythendoInoticethebruisingunder

mypalm.Whatthehell,birdie?Whathappenedtoyou?

“You'regonnahurtyourselfifyoukeepthis—”
Herheadsmashesagainstthedoorframewithaparticularlyluckytwist.
“You'llforgivemeforthislater,birdie.”Istripoffmysweatpantsandbindherwiththem,both

handsandfeet.It'snotasecurerestraint,butshedoesn'tseemlikeshe'supformuchanyways.“Ineedyou
tobesafe.”

Ileaveher,cryingandhelpless.
Ihopeit'stherightthingtodo.
Theroomshewasinisn'tanyeasiertolookatthesecondtime.Ipickupthepaperontheground,

justincase,andtakealongerlookatthecorpseshewasnextto.There'snothingthatstrikesmeasweird,
though.There'snofoodwrappersorcontainers;nowondershe'slostsomuchweight,andisalmost
delirious.

Thereek'sgettingtome.Igraboneofherwaterbottlesandgulpsomedown,eagerly.Almost

immediately,myguttwists.Myskingoeswarm,andthecolorsintheroomshift.Ithrowthebottleaway
ashardasIcan,anditbouncesoffaverysolidwall.

It'sdrugged.It'sgottabe.Thatexplainsalot.PoorMilla.Howmuchofithasshebeendrinking,

anyways?There'salotofemptybottlesinhere.

Nothingtodobutbethereforhercomedown.Nothingmoretolearn,asnearasIcantell.

Whatevergamethey'replaying,it'ssickening.Ineedheratfullstrengthifwe'regonnasurvive.

Nine,Milla

Idon'tknowwhateverridemybody'son,butIwantthehelloffit.Chillsalternatewithfeverishheat,and
Ijerkbackandforthbetweenspasmsandtremors,andthisawfulnumbnessthatmakesthedistorted
shapesdancinginthewallsseemsomuchmorereal.

Butthere'ssomethingwarmandsoftagainstmycheek,andsomethingelsetouchingmyscalp,

radiatingpeace.Eventuallyitsinksin,thatmyheadisonamuscularthigh,andthere'sstrongfingers
tangledinmyhair.

I'mboundwithsoftfabric,butsomehowitseemsthere'snofearorvulnerabilityinit,onlycare.

TheknotsloosenwhenItwistmywristsright,fallingawayfromme.Andthenthefabric'stouchonmy
handisreplacedbyahumanone.Irollontomyback,andfindmyselffacetofacewithCalder,hissleepy
blueeyescrinkledwithrelief.“Youknowme,birdie?”

Iletoutaninarticulatenoise.
“Good.Becauseifyouweregonnastartswearingatmeagain,Iwasgonnahavetogagyou.”He

smiles,softly,lettingmeknowthatthere'snomaliceorthreatthere.

I'vegottobehallucinatinghim.Buttheheatofhishandovermine...Ican'tbeimaginingit.
“Youfeellikeeatingsomething?Youlooklikeyouneedit.”
Ican'tquiteformthewords,buthedoesn'tneedmeto,frommystomachgrowling.Somethingin

theairsmellsdivine.

“I'mgonnaslideoutfromunderyou.Don'tgetuporanything.”
Hedoesexactlywhathepromised,pausingonlytorollupthefabricthatusedtobearoundmy

forearmsandtuckitundermyhead.Eventhatlittlebitofmotionmakestheworldspinmercilessly,andI
retch,eventhoughthere'snothingtocomeup.

He'sshirtless,andafteramoment,IrealizethatI'mnot.Thatmakesadegreeofsense;thefabric

smellslikehim.Notthesoapandspicescentofhimoutintheworld,buttherawmuskthat'shis
concentratedessence,withoutamenities.Thesmell'sfamiliar,buttakesmebacktoabetter,ifmore
confusingtime.Hismusclesflexasheshiftshisweightfromlegtoleg,definingthecurveofhisassina
decidedlypleasantway.He'spantsless,too.Thosemustbewhatmyhead'srestingon.

“Whathappened?”
“Don'tyouremember?”Heflashesaglanceoverhisshoulderatme.“Wait,maybeyouwouldn't.”
Somethingpainedflitsacrosshisface,thoughIcanhardlyfocusonit.“Don'trememberanything.

Just—theroom,andJames...”

“James?”
Ipantomimeswallowingabullet.
“Oh.Theguyyouwerewithinthere.Hewasgonefromthestart?”
“Yeah—prettysureI'drememberseeinghimdie.”
“Whatelsedoyouremember?”
“That'sit.Usbeingtakensomewhere,andwakingupalone.You?”
“Same,basically.Youweren'tinbedwhenweweretaken;Irememberthatmuch.Why?”
“How'mIsupposedtoknow?MaybeIhadtopeeorsomething.Thatwholenight'sblurry.”
Iamsuchaliar.
Hisexpression'sguardedashehelpsmesitup,andputsawarmcanofbeansinmylap.“Tea'llbe

hotinaminute.Areyousureyoudon'trememberanythingelse?”

Damnit.He'scaughtmeout,andisgivingmeachancetocomeclean.“No?You'releadingthe

question.Why?Justtalkplainly.”

“Youweren'tinbed,Mil,andyouweredressedwhentheyweretransportingus.Eitheryouwere

tryingtoleaveme,oryouwereinonit.Eitherway,Ineedtoknow.This—Idon'tknowwhatitis,ifit's
notyouhavingachangeofheartonlovingme.Maybeit'ssomeoneelsestagingvigilantejusticeforus,
buteventhat'sgotaprettyhighbodycountforwhat'sultimatelyagrandgesture.Sosing,birdie.”

Iscrambleforwords,relivingthefrenzyasbestIcanwithaconsciousnessthatfeelslikeSwiss

cheese.“Idon'tremembermuch—butI'mnotinonthejoke.Iwould'vediedthereifyouhadn'tfoundme.”

Thefoodtasteslikeash,thoughIcanhardlyimagineitbeinganymoresatisfyingifitwas

ambrosia.IhadnocluehowhungryIwasuntilthefirstbitehitmylips.Eventheprospectofanargument
withCaldercan'tslowmybites.Anditbuysmetime.

Idorememberonething,though.Themchasingmedown.Butbeforethat,averyfamiliarwoman

asIbrokeherneck.

“Annette.Ikilledheroutside,whiletheywerestagingthings.Theychasedme.Butshe'sdead,and

shewasinonit.Alineinherappointmentnotes,makingyououttobesuicidal.Implyingaggressionatme
asthecause.Probablycamealongtomakewhatevertheydidlooknatural.Murder/suicide.Whobetterto
fakeonethansomeonewhoworkswithsuicidalpeopleandcanwriteyourpatientrecordtoreflect
howeveritsdone?Nocluewhytheydidn'tkillusthen,thoughmetakingheroutadmittedlywouldmake
hernotesalittlemoresuspicious.Ormaybetherewasachangeofplans,andnoonetoldher.”

“Andwhywereyououtside,Mil?”Hisvoiceiscarefullycalm;Ihavetotreadcarefully,lesthe

losehistemper.I'mnotupforfacinghimdownrightnow.Butthemorewetalkaboutit,theclearerit
becomes.AndthelongerIholdontoit,theworsethefalloutwillbe.

Iheaveadeepsigh,andconfessmysins.“BecauseIdidn'twanttoseeyouhurt.Andifwe'drun

together,youwould'vebeen.Iwantedtoturnmyselfin,topointpeopletherightdirectiontotakeout
everyonewhocould'vehurtyou.Toclearthepathforyou.”

“ButIwantedyouwithme.Whatevercame,weweregonnafaceittogether.”
Ilowermyhead,notknowinghowtotakehisvehemence.“I—Icouldn'thavelivedwithmyselfif

Ihadn'tdoneeverythinginmypowertoprotectyo—”

“AndyouthinkIcould've?SeeingyourotawayorfryasthoughIwasn'tencouragingyoutogo

afterthosemurderousfuckwads?”

“Youdon'tundersta—”
Mycheeksarewetwithtears,aticklishfeelinginthebreeze.Hesetsacupofteainmyhand,

tenderdespitehisintenseglare.

“Idon'thaveto.Youcansayyou'rerightallyouwant,butyoubetrayedme.Andnow,morethan

ever,weneedtobeabletotrusteachother.ButhowcanI?It'salwaysbeenmoreimportantforyoutogo
offonyourown,dowhatyouthink'sbest,nottrustinganyoneelsetodecideasagroup,orpartnership—”

Hepicksupmyhand,inspectingmybareringfinger.“Didyoutakeitoff?”
Ishakemyhead,barelyabletocoordinatethemotion.Theworld'sspinningagain.I'mmelting,

sinkingbackagainstacoolwall,unabletofacehisanger.Mylimbsaredifficulttomove.Utterlylimp,
andevenclingingtomymugofteaisshockinglydifficult.Andtheanxietytriggersthenauseaagain,only
thistimeIhavesomethingtothrowup.

Itumbletotheside,spillingmyteaasIgagandvomit.Whenthefirstmouthfulofpukehits,he

dropshislectureandkneelsbyme,holdingmyhairawayfromme.

“What'mIgonnadowithyou,birdie?”
Iputmyhandoverhis,unsurewhattosay.Butthatonlyemphasizestheawarenessthathisringis

missing.Itfillsmewithanemptyache,andfromhiseyesmeetingmine,onlymakeshimneedtobemore
distantfromme.

Iheavesilentbreaths,tryingtoavoidretchingagain,tryingtoblockouteveryuglythinginthe

worldaroundme.

“I'lltellyoueverythingelseIknowlater,love.Youneedtorest.You'restillwobbly.”

Inod,andhepicksmeup,scootingmeawayfromthechunkyliquidsontheground.
“Justgetsomerest.I'llcleanthatup.We'lltalklater.”

Ten,Calder

DaysofnursingMilladespitemyanxietyandfrustrationtakeatollonme.I'mafraidtosleep,lestshebe
gonewhenIwakeup.Whenshegetsstrongenoughtowalkwithme,thathelpssomewhat,easingmy
anxietywhenIhavetogotogetfood.Andtheship'sstillinworkingorder;there'sacommunalshoweron
eachfloorofthecrewquarters.Nosoaporanything,butevenbeingabletowashtheworstofthegrit
awayfromherhelpsimmensely.Ithelpsmeseeexactlywhat'sbruisingandwhat'snot.Hershoulder's
almosthighlighteryellowfromhalf-healedbruises.Sheswearsithurtsless,butIdon'tknowifIbelieve
her,givenhowoftenIcatchherrollinghershoulderandtestingit.

We'reafraidtotalktoeachother.There'ssomanymorequestionsIwanttoask,butIcan'tquite

bringmyselftodoitwithherasmessedupassheis.Ineedtoaskherifshe'sinonit,justtobereassured
thatI'llbeabletotellifshe'slying.ItseemsstupidthatIhaveto,butthisiswhoweare,Iguess.Me
mistrustful,fullofbitterness,andher,manipulative,violent,andunpredictable.Tobehonest,maybethat's
whatIloveabouther,thatthere'sneveracomplacentmoment.

ThepaperIfoundwithherhascrinklededges,thefoldswornthinfromfrequentexamination.And

everytimeIaskaboutit,sheshakesherhead,herlipsdrawnsotightlytogetherthattheypale.Andthe
numbersmightaswellbecomputercodeforallIunderstandthem.

Inthefaceofwhateverstormisbrewingaroundus,it'seasiertowithdraw.Toshutdown.Tojust

exist,ratherthanreachingforafuturethatwon'thappen.

Ifsomeonedumpedusonabeachtomorrowwiththepromisetoneverseekusoutagain,Istill

don'tknowthatIcouldtrustit,orher.Idon'tknowthatIcouldmarryherwithoutstabsofreliefatthe
accessthatwouldgivemetomakesureshe'snotgoingrogueandendangeringthebothofus.

“Just—youcan'tdothis,Mil.We'reinthistogether.We'resupposedtobeworkingtogether.”I

hatethepleadingnoteinmyvoice;Iknowwhatshe'sbeenupto,butknowingthatshewon'ttellme
fillsmewithfury.Iwanttobeatitoutofher,ormaybetokissheruntilshegivesthesecretsup
willingly.

“Likehellweare,”shegrowls.“I'mdisposable.Youdon'tneedtoknowthedetails,youjust

needtoknowthatwhatI'mdoing'sforyou.”Shepullsaway,stompingintothehallwaytoputsome
distancebetweenus.Somuchforlovingitoutofher.

“Ineedtobeabletotrustyou.”
MaybeIshould'verealizedthenthatIcouldn't.Orshouldn't.Eitheror.And—maybeshedoesn't

wantmeto.Maybethat'swhatallthishasbeenabout.Findingsomereasonwhyshecan'tbefullyonmy
side,sothatsheisn'tsurprisedwhenthingsgowrong.

“Howdoyoudoit,Calder?”
“What,birdie?”
“Loveme.Trustme.I'vedecimatedyourfamily.”
“Decimatedisalittlemuch...”
“Itdoesn'thavetomemathematicallytruetobeaccurate.”
Deepwellsofself-loathingandinsecurity,voicedbyawomanwhoneverquitelearnedtobe

securewithothers.Onceagain,IwishIcouldhavetheopportunitytocurseherfamilyout,dosome
damagetothemtocounterthedamagetheydidtoher.

Whatifthegulfbetweenusisthatsameself-sabotage?IgraspMilla'swristandpullherbackto

me.Unconsciously,herarmslooparoundmynecktosteadyherself.Myshirtrideshighonherthighs,
bunchingundermyhandonthesmallofherback.Ikissherwithallofthestrainandforceofeverything
we'vebeenlivingwith.Herlipspartwithasmallsigh,andIseizetheopening,dartingmytongue
betweenherlipstotouchhers.Shegasps,andgivesupanysemblanceofholdingback,herfingernails

clawingintothebackofmyneckasshebegsformetokissherdeeper,harder.

Iwantherbody.Iwanttofeelhervelvetyskinagainstmine,herhotpussygrippingmeasshe

comes.IwanteverythingI'verestrainedmyselffromaskingfor.Maybethere'llbetimeforthatlater,now
thattheicebreaker'sworked.

“Youreadytotalk?”

***

WhenIwakeupnexttoMilla,thefirstthingthattellsmesomething'soffisadullcrinkle.AsIshift,my
armdrapedacrossherchest,thatnoisestartlesmelongbeforeI'verealizedIcanfeelthepaperagainst
myforearm.

Milla'seyesopenslowly,heavywithconfusion.Irollherontoherbackandlookdownather

serene,half-awakeface,beforeanenvelopeattachedtoherchestwithasafetypinpullsmygazetoher
chest.Hereyesfollowmine,andshepropsherselfuptoyankitoffhershirt.

Welcometoyournewhome.Ihopethehousewarmingwentwell.
Nodoubtyou'verealizedtheprecariousnessofyoursituation.Thisisgonnaendoneoftwo

ways:

1.Ifyoukillyourcompanion,youwillwakeupwithinwalkingdistanceofcivilization,

unharmed.

2.Ifyouconfessinwriting—andIdomeanconfess;weknoweverything—youbothwillwake

upinpolicecustody,safeandunharmed,yourconfessionhavingprecededyou.Bewarned.Youonly
havethreetriestoconfess.Anyattemptstolieorwithholdwillbepunishedseverely.Honestywillset
youfree.Falsehoodswillcostyoueverything.

Don'teventhinkyoucanswimtoland.Youcan't.Don'tthinkyoucanfoolus.Youcan't.Don't

thinkyoucanescape.Wewouldbeonlytoohappytorepaybloodwithbloodshouldyoutry.Yourgood
deedshavenotgoneunnoticed.Whateveryouthinkyouarecapableof,bewarnedthatit'schild'splay
comparedtohowwe'llretaliate.Weknowwhoyouare.Whatyou'vedone.Ifwewantyoutohurt,you'll
hurt.Ifwewantyoutodie,you'lldie.

Forseveralseconds,MillaandIcan'tmusterareaction.Oureyesholdeachother'sinshock.
Onlylaterdoesnuancesetin.Milla'seyesarefilledwithapainfulhope,butIknowmineholda

ferociousglare.

“So?”shebeginshesitantly.
“So?”Ireply,eagerforsomeonetotakemyfrustrationouton.
“Ithinkit'salie.”
“Whichpart?”
“Thesafetything.IfLucy'sstillgonnabeafterthemtokillyou,whywouldtheyletyoulive?”
“Assumingthesearethesamepeople.”
“Iguess.Seemslikewecouldn'thavemadethatmanymurderousenemiessosoon...”
“Sowhatnow?Doyouwanttolive,yourself?”Everymomentofdistrustbleedstogether—Iknow

I'mlashingoutwithoutproof,butI'dstillratherdefendmyself.

“Howcanyouaskthat?”Shebringsahandtoherthroat.“YouknowwhereIstand.”
“Iwon'tlie.Ihaven'tknownhowthismomentwouldgo.”Ican'tletanysoftnessbleedintomy

voice.

“I'vebeenafraidofthat,myself.”
“Ifantasizedaboutmyhandsaroundyourthroat,aboutwatchingthelightinyoureyesgo

out...”Hersmoothskinundermyfingers,therigidityofhercollarbonemeetingthesoftnessofher
throat.IcanalmostfeelitgivingunderthemasIcutherbreathoff...

“And?”sheasks,nothingbutresignationinher.Nosparkoffight,ordefensiveness.
Iputmyweightontoherthroatslowly,tighteningmygriponherwindpipe.Stillnothing.She

doesn'tliftafingertostopme.Theexpressiononherfacedoesn'tchange,evenasherskinbeginsto
reddenfromlossofair.

Milla'sthroatworksundermyhandasshefightstoswallow,togasp,todosomething.Still,her

handsstayatherside,andhereyesmeetminewithoutfearorblame.Nothingleftbutaperverse
affection.

Ican'tstopnow.Ihavetoknowifshe'smanipulatingme.Ifshe'llusethataffectiontoleverme

intolettingherlive.Shedeservestodie,forwhatshe'sdone.Somanylivesended,includingmyown
brother's.Includingmenwhowereallbutbrotherstome.Ibeardown,tighteningmygriponher
throat.Stillnothing.

I'malltornup.Theacceptanceandevencomfortinherface,thelackofmanipulation,itall

combinesexplosivelywiththepainofeveryfuneralI'veattended,utteringplatitudeswhilepretending
nottoknowthatthey'reallonher.

Butallofthehurt,andthefear—thewayshecomfortedmeandsewedupmywounds.Thelittle

lilthervoicehaswhenshe'sdrunk...Rightupuntiltheend,Idon'tknowwhetherIcangothroughwith
it.

Ican'thelpit.Isqueezeherhand,relishingherelegantfingersforwhatmaybethelasttime.
Hereyessinkshut,stillwithnofight,judgment,orattemptstointerfere.
Andthat'swhatbreaksme.Mygripgoesweak,andIremovemyhandfromherthroat.Ican

stillfeelherpulseundermyfingertips.Icushionherheadononearm,andpropmyselfuptowatch
her.Hesitantly,Iholdtwofingersinfrontofherlips.Airwhistlesbythem,faintly.AndwhenIpress
themtoherthroat,herpulseisslow,butstrong.She'sgonnalive.Ididn'tkillher.

She'llwakeupsoon.
Sureenough,hereyelidsflutteropenafewminuteslater.Herthroat'salreadybeginningto

bruise.That'sagoodthing;otherwiseImighthavequestionedwhetherIimaginedtakingmyrevenge
onherdefenselessbody.

“Youwouldhaveletmedoit...”
Shenodsslightly,makinganunhappyface.Themotionmusthurt.
“Ineverwill.”Iwrapmyotherarmaroundher.Icanfinallybegintotrustthatthere'ssome

intimacyinthis,notjustthatshe'sgivingmewhatshethinksIwanttonothurther.

“Thenwhy—”hervoicecomesoutraspy,hardlyunderstandable.
Ileanback,needingtolookherintheeye.“Ihadtoknowifitwouldendinreallifethewayit

didwhenIimaginedit.”

“How'sthat?”Shecanhardlygetthewordsout,hervoicewhisperyandfrail.
Ah,yes.ThepartIcan'tfullyexplain.ThatIprobablyshouldbeashamedof.Ifanyonecould

knowaboutlovingsomeoneyoushouldhate,it'sMilla.Ifanyoneknowsaboutthatpointwhenyour
identitiesbecomesointertwinedthatevenyourpartner'spainissexual,it'sMilla.

She'stheonlyonewho'severgonnabeabletounderstandme.“Withtrustinyoureyes,

forgivenessinyourtouch,and—”teasingly,Ipullherhandtomyerection.“—Withmydickrockhard
foryou.”

Shestrokesme,andchuckles,makinganotherpainedexpressionatthephysicaltollittakeson

her.“How'sthatwork?”

“Youtellme.”
She'sstaringatme,thatexactsameresignedlook.“YouknowwhereIstand.”

Myvoicecracks.“Yeah.Ido.”
Idon'thaveitinmetoofferanapology,butshedoesn'taskforone.Sheunderstands.
“Sowhatdoyoumakeoftherest?”
“Theconfessionthing?”
“Yeah.Idoubtthey'redoingittobegoodSamaritans.”
“Thepoliceareprobablytooclose,andtheyneedtogivethemsomethingtopersuadethemthere's

nothingelsetosee.”

“Soifwefigureoutwhat...allthis...iscloseto?”
“ProbablythesamestuffLucywascoveringup.”
Inanotherlifetime,Lucywasoneofmymom'sclosestfriends,andoneofmyoldestmentors.That

wasbeforesheputacontractonmeandtriedtoframemeforfraud,maybeevenworse.IfIhaveone
regretaboutthiswholething,it'sthatshe'sstillalive,wanderingaroundfreelyintheworld,whilewe're
here,fightingforourlives.

“Whatdoesanyofthatgiveus?What'stheplan?”Millaasksitquietly,knowingmyanswermight

wellbetostrangleheragain.

“We'llfigureitoutaswego.Butnoone'sdying,andwe'recertainlynotgonnaplayintotheir

planbyconfessing.”

“Youthinkthat'sdoinganythingotherthanputtingofftheinevitable?”
“Hush,birdie.We'vebeenthroughworse.Theyaren'tgonnabreakus.Notifwestandtogether.

Youarewithme,aren'tyou?”

Hereyesarestilltoodim,aholdoverfromherprolongeddrugging.“Iguess.I'mhere,anyways.”
“So—youwanttotrytobreakdownafewdoors?Seeifwemightshakethemupalittle?”
“Youalwaysknowjustwhattosay.”

Eleven,Milla

“Someonelookspeaceful.It'sthedamndestthing.”

Itrytorollover,buttheairaroundmeisheavy,likesyrup.Ibarelymanagetoturnmyhead.

Thelightbulbabovemeglowsentirelytoobright,soIkeepmyeyesshut.“Shutup,Calder.Youknow
stressingwon'tdoanything.Gobacktosleep.”

“Nothinglikethat.Just—you'retrappedonafloatingdeathtrap,waitingtodie.It'sfunnythat

youlooklikeyoumightaswellbeinthepenthouseapartment,forallit'saffectedyou.”

“Eh,you'vebeentherebefore.It'snotlikeyou'relosingsleepoverit,either.”
“MaybeIshouldbe,Camilla.MaybeIshouldbe.”
SincewhendoesCaldercallmebymyfullname?Igrimace,andtrytomustertheenergyto

givehimapieceofmymind.“IfIwasn'tsoeagertogetbacktothatdreamyouwokemefrom,I'dlet
youhaveit.YouknowIhatemyfullname.Andifyoudecidetodredgeupanyoldnicknames,I'lljust
taketocallingyouCal,asshole.Twocanplayatthatgame.”

Alowchuckle.“Yeah?Whatwereyoudreamingabout,thatyou'resoeagertogetbackto.”
“Giveyoutwoguesses.”Irollbackover,andpressmyfaceagainstCalder'sshoulder,sliding

myhandintohissweatpants.He'shalfhardagainstmyhand.Thatdrawsasmilefromme.

ButI'mexhausted,andnotactuallyeagertotakeitanywhere.SoIshutmyeyes,andletsleep

takeme.Hischestrisesandfallsagainstmyface,andIburrowintoit,tofeelourribcagesexpandas
one.

***

IwakeuptoCaldergrunting.Itdoesn'tsoundlikeastraining-through-pushupsgrunt,orastomachpains
grunt.Itsnapsmyeyesopenandmakesmereflexivelytrytohoptomyfeet,toseewhat'sgoingon.When
onlyblacknessgreetsme,foramomentIwonderifI'mstilldreaming.

Buttheactionoftryingtowakeandstandspeaksforitself.Myhandsareboundtogetherwithduct

tape,asaremyankles.AndCalderseemstobefightingagainstthesamething.

“Mil?You'reup?CanIpushoffyou?”
“What?”
“There'ssomemetalstickingoutofthewall.IfIcanbracemyselfonyou,I'llhaveaneasiertime

freeingmyhands.”

“Goahead,then.”
Caldercurlsup,andhisfeetpressintomystomach.IbracemyselfasbestIcan,andheusesmeas

ananchortohelphimscootbackwards.There'samuffledtearingnoise,andhepullshishandsinfrontof
him,yankingstickytapeoff.Hestartsonhisankles,andoncethey'reloosetoo,walksbehindmetowork
onmine.

“Whatdoyoumakeofit?”Iwigglemynewlyfreedwrists,andshoohimawayfrompeelingthe

tapeoff.“Don'tworryaboutit—it'sgonnahurt,soI'dratherleaveitthereforthemoment.”

Thedarknessaroundusisnew.Someonemovedusinoursleep.I'mbeginningtofeelabitlikea

goddamndoll,thrownaroundandposedwheredesired.Betweentheideaofsomeonefondlingmychest
whentheypinnedthenotetome,andnowthis...

“I'dsaytheydidn'twanttoriskoneofuswakingup.Buttheyalsodidn'tgiveashitaboutactually

keepingusrestrained,ortheywould'veusedmorelayersoftape.”

“You'reentirelytoocalm.”
“Nooffense,birdie,butit'salittleold-hatatthispoint.IthinkIgaveupthatkindofself-

consciousnesslongago.”

“Yeah,well.Inevergropedyourdickwhileyouwereout.”
Hewinks.“You'dbewelcometo.”
“Okay,sonexttimeyou'redreamingsomeone'stouchingyou,justtellyourselfit'sme.Ipromise

nottotellyouwhetherornotit'strue.”

It'seasiertobemadathimforhiscalmthantoacceptthattherewasnooneelseIcoulddirect

thatangerat.

Inthedimlightofourenclosure,it'simpossibletotellwhatCalderactuallythinksaboutmy

anxiety.Ipace,untilsomethingtangleswithmybaretoes,sendingmeflying.Ipickitup,savoringits
weightinmyhand.“You'vegottabeshittingme.”

Calderglancesup,andlaughs,seeingmeswingingthehammerlistlessly.“ShouldIbeafraid?”

Thoughhistonestartsouthumorous,bytheendofthequestionheseemstohaverealizedthatthequestion
mightneedtobeserious.

“Well,atleasttheyleftusaweapon,”Iaddsarcastically.Ican'tdecidewhethertolaughorstart

tryingtoprythedoor'shingeswiththenail-removerend.Caldershoveshimselftohisfeetandstepsclose
tome,hisfingerswrappingaroundmineonthehandle.

Unconsciously,Itense,incasehetriestotakeitfromme.Healreadyhasasizeadvantage,ifhe's

decidedtoplayalongwiththem.It'sdisturbinghowquicklythatidea'swormeditswayintomy
subconscious,eventhoughIdon'twanttobeweighingusasopponents.

ThemusclesinCalder'sneckcordashestiffens.He'sawareofmyinnerturmoil.Andhedefuses

itthebestwayhecan—bykissingmesodesperatelythatmygripslackens.Myhandsflytohischeeksand
hair,refusingtolethimpullawayfromme.

Andthenthere'ssuddenlyairundermyfingertipsashespinsmeawayfromhimandsweepsmy

legsoutfromunderme,knockingmetotheground.He'sontopofmewhileI'mstillfightingtorecover,
trappingmyhandsinoneofhis,andbringingthesharperendofthehammertomythroat.Hepressesitin
justdeeplyenoughtotellmethathecouldripmythroatopenifhewantedto,anditwouldbepainfulas
hell.Ican'ttakemyeyesoffhim,waitingforthemomentofdecision.Then,hislipsfindmineagain.

“Never.Stoplookingfortheknifeinyourbackalready.”
Hegetsoffmeandandkneelsbythedoor,probingforanyweakspots.I'mleftwithnothingbutmy

newlyachingribs,andtheghostofhistouch.Andastrangesenseofguilt.

IletCalderwork,undisturbed.Ineedtogetsomeofmyequilibriumback.

Twelve

Asthedaygoeson,theairarounduswarmsup.Atfirst,it'scomfortable,evenrelaxing,butsoonit
becomescloying.Givenhowwarmitwasoutside,whenwehadaccesstothemaindeck,I'mnot
surprisedintheleast.Thesespacesaren'tgenerallyinsulated.Workingintheshipyards,we'dhaveat
leastahandfulofheatstrokehospitalizationswhenpeopleweren'tcareful.Andthere'sdefinitelyno
suppliesinherewithus.

IputahandonCalder'sshouldertostophimfromhisworktryingtofindsomewaytoremovethe

door.“You'vebeenatitawhile.Youneedtorestalittle.Ifyoustartoverheating,it'snotlikeIcangetyou
abottleofGatoradeandcallanambulance.Thatthingisn'tgoinganywhere.”

“Andneitherarewe.You'veworkedintothenightbefore—howlongwouldyousayittakesthe

day'sheattodissipate?We'renotgonnalastlonginhere.”

“Butworking'tilyouhurtyourselfwon'thelpeither.Justgivemethehammer,andletmehavea

try.”

Grudgingly,hehandsitover,retreatingtothefarcornertowatch.Theareaaroundthehingeis

dentedfromhisefforts,butstillnoclosertogivingway.Thewallsseemtobefairlythick,sothough
they'vegotdings,theyhaven'tactuallygottenpunctured.

Irunthroughthememoriesofathousandships'skeletonsjustlikethis.Thefloor'slikelytobe

rowsofwoodI-beamsbeneaththesurfacegratingunderourfeet.Probablythisroomwasmadefor
refrigeration,hencehavinganurgentneedfordrainageandairflow.NotwideenoughforCalder,butI
shouldbeabletowigglethrough,likeakidhidingundertheirbed.

ItestseveralsectionsofgratingbeforeIfindalooseone.Ishoveittotheside,andprobe.It's

gonnabeatightfit,andifIgettrapped,I'mfucked.Butit'sanoption.

“What'dyoufind?”Calderasks,abandoninghisgrumpinessashehearsthemetalsquealandshift.
“Don'tbothergettingup.Youwon'tfit.”
AndIdon'twanttogethishopesup.
“Youthinkyouwill?Thisisn'ta'doesthismakemelookfat'kindofthingwherethere'snoreal

consequencestobeingwrong,asidefromabruisedego.”

“Likeyousaidearlier.Wewon'tlastlonggettingbroiledalive.I'vegottatry.”
Idon'tthinkI'dactuallybeenconsideringitagiventhatIwasgoingtoclimbdownthere.Butthe

morevehementlyhearguesagainstit,thestrongerthecertaintyit'stherightthingtodo,andouronly
option.Ishovemyarmdownagain,testingitsdepthandwidth.Somethingscratchesagainstmyarm—
nailswheresomeoftheflooringwasanchored.Justtobeonthesafeside,Istripoffmyshirt.“Itsnot
gonnahelpmeifthatgetscaught.Canyouholdontoit,please?”

Caldergrimaces,andwatchesasIsitontheedgeoftheholeImade,straighteningmylegsuntilI

canslidedown.Finally,I'mlaying,myfaceandshoulderstheonlypartleftexposed.Somethingraw
passesoverCalder'sfaceandheleansdown.Inthedarkness,itfeelslikebeinginacoffin.

“Staysafe,birdie.”Hisvoicealmostcracks,attheideaofbeingstuckherealone.
“Yeahyeah.I'lltrynottobelong.”
Hereachesdowntocaressmycheek,thesofttouchbindingmetohimstrongerthananyrope

could.Ican'tleavehimwhenhe'slikethis,eventhoughthelongerIsithere,themoreoverwhelmingthe
ideaoftheupcomingcrawlgets.

“I'mnotgonnaleaveyou,Calder.I'llberightoutsidetheroom.BetifIyellloudenough,you'llbe

abletohearmethewholetime.Nowpassmethathammer.”

***

Myescapefromourenclosure'sterrifying.Icanhardlymove,thrashingandinch-wormingmyself
forward,clingingtighttothehammerandignoringthenailsaroundmeetchingpainfultrailsintomybody
witheverymovement.EverysetofnailsIpassmarksasheetofplywood.Ishutmyeyestokeepthedust
I'mstirringout,sinceIdoubtIcouldreachahandtomyeye.

Eventraversingafootofspaceisatestofbothendurance,andmentalcontrol.Ican'tflinchfrom

thepainofthenailsdiggingintomytenderfleshwitheveryarching,inchingmovement,can'tcryand
worryCalder,can'thaveapanicattackattheclaustrophobiaofthepossibilitythatImightdiehere,and
witherawaytobonesunseen,likearatinthewalls.Noroomtothesidestomovemyarms,norabove
me.Onlythenarrowpathforward,andthedustyairinmymouth.

But,whenI'vecountedenoughthatImustbepastthewalls,Iwigglemyarmsandthehammerup

tomychest.Tostart,Iaimthesharpendaboveme,andthrustupwardashardasIcan.Moredustrains
ontome,andthesheetovermyheadbuckles.Icountmyblows,tryingtoatleastdentitwithoutroomto
swingproperly.Eachtimethehammerbouncesback,itbouncespainfullyintomychest.WhenIswitchto
thebluntend,thepainbecomesevenworse,thenail-removersdiggingintomyalreadybruisedsternum.
ButI'mmakingadent—theboardabovemeiscracked,flecksofparticle-boardfallingontomyface,
whereIcan'tbrushthemaway.

Iriskrestingthehammeronmychesttobringmyhandsuptotheboard,topushup,buteitherit's

stilltoostrong,orI'mtooweak.Thatrealizationchillsmyblood,andmakesthefeelingofsuffocationso
muchworse.

Toquellthefearshort-circuitingmymind,Ipickupthehammeragainandpounditsomemore.If

Calder'slistening,he'llknowI'mrattledbytherhythm.Ipraytofuckhe'snot,bothformyownegoandfor
hispeaceofmind.Idon'twanthimtobeanymoreanxiousthanhehastobe.

There'sasharpcrackastheboardsplinters,andIshoveitagain,peelingsectionsofpressed

woodawayasbestIcan,tryingtoweakenit.Finally,whenitfeelslikeImusthavetakentheskinoffmy
fingertips,cleardowntothebone—aswellashalftheskinonmyknuckles—itbeginstogive.Iwiggle
myselfbackwardsuntilIcangetmyfeetuptokickit,andthatseemstodothetrick,wideningtherift
further.

Arayoflightcutsthroughthecrack,andIthrowmyweightintoshovingeachsideoutwardsto

widenit.ItscrapesthehelloutofmewhenIgetmyarmsandshouldersthrough,butI'msafe.Icanstand,
andclimbout.

Iglancearoundthenewroomtogetmybearings.Definitelyafloorforrefrigeratedcargo.And

Calder'sareamusthavesomekindofelectronicssecuringthemechanism—itwon'topen.

Theonlylighthereisfromahandfulofflashlightsthatthey,nodoubt,leftherewhentheyputusin

thatlittletombofaroom.Butthere'sgonnabesomethingIcando.I'msureofit.Becausetheydon'twant
usdead.

“Calder?Baby?”Iyell,hopingtoreassurehim.
Noanswer.
Ikneel,andstickmyheadintotheholeIcrawledoutof.“Calder?”Iyellagain.Thistime,there's

amuffledcryback.“I'mokay,”Iadd,justtobeonthesafeside.NowthatI'vedonewhatIcantoprevent
himfromworrying,Icanbuckledownandfigureouthowtogetusoutofhere,oratleastgettheHVAC
on.Idesperatelywanttotossaflashlightdownthepath,incasethathelpshim,butIdoubtitwouldmake
itallthewaythere,andthere'snowayinhellI'mgoingbacktofishitoutandtrythrowingitagain,or
carryitmyself.

Itonlytakesafewminutestodiscovertheproblem.Theairconditioningsysteminhereseemsto

beunderrepair—thebackwallisamessofplastictubesleadingtoamassivefan.Itlookslikeatleast
someoftheventsshouldconnecttoCalder'sroom.Thatexplainswhythelatterhalfoftheflooringwas

plywood,notmeshorgrating.

Itrytoturnthefanon,butnothinghappens.Ipushpastthetubes,lookingforthewiring,toseeif

it'sevenhookedup.Icouldslidethroughthestudsinthatbackwall,butthere'snowayinhellI'm
attemptingitwithoutCalder.It'smarginallycoolerouthereinthemainroom,butstillwarmenoughto
makemeworryabouthowlonghecanmakeitinthere,andwhetherIcouldevengetbackifIstrayedtoo
far.

Finally,theproblemrevealsitself.Twoofthewiresrunthroughtheceilingareslicedclean

through,severalinchesofcordontheendsstrippedofthewirecasing.Itdoesn'ttakeageniustofigure
whatthey'reguessingI'lldo.

ButImighthaveaslightadvantage.Inevertooktheducttapeoffmywrists.Idon'ttrustitto

insulatemefromthefullshock,butifitcanholdlongenoughformetotapetheendstogetherandkeep
Caldersafe,thenit'swellworththerisk.

Morethananything,IwishIhadshoes;thegratingisbackforthissectionoftheroom.Andthat

justseemslikeadeathtrap.Iscourtheroomforsomethinguseful,finallysettlingonseveralloopsofthe
plasticventing.IkeepmybalanceasbestIcanonthem,andsayaquickprayerasIreachuptothe
danglingwires.IremindmyselfwhyI'mwillingtoundertakethispainforCalder,whyhissurvivalis
crucial.Ireliveeverytendertouch,andheartfeltword,knowingtheremightnotbemorelater.

AndthenIyankthemtogetherandslamthetapearoundtheexposedends,asfastasIpossiblycan

withmusclesalreadyfightingtospasmshutaroundthelivewires.

Sparksraindownaroundmyheadandneck,andItoppleoffmyplasticpile.Everymuscleinme

achesasthoughIranamarathon.Andmyskintinglesfromafiercepaininmywrists,arms.Everysingle
burnsparswiththecoldbreezenowrunningovermyskin.ButthedrafttellsmewhatIneededtoknow.
Calder'snotgonnabake.

Iblackoutfromthepain,knowingI'vedonewhatIneededto.That'stheonlythingthatmatters.

Thirteen,Calder

TheminutesbleedbyasMilladisappearsintothehole,withonlyaseriesofmufflednoisestotellme
she'sokay.Everytorturedminute,Iimaginehertrapped,unabletocalltomeorgetfree.Shewasright;
there'snowayIcould'vemadeitdownthere.Itriedtofollowher,butcouldbarelygetmyhipsthrough
thehole,letalonemyshoulders.I'veneverconsideredmybuildaliabilityuntilnow.

Finally,ahoarsecrycomesbacktome.Ican'ttellthewords,butIcanunderstandhertone.She

madeit.

Itestthedooronemoretime,prayingthatnoone'souttherelyinginwaitforher,thatit'sassimple

asherunlockingthedoorfromtheotherside.Butanewcountdownemergesasthedoorstaysshut.My
nightmaresaboutwhatmightbehappeningtoherouttheregetprogressivelyworsewitheverypassing
second.

Finally,asoftwhooshfillstheairandthefloorvibrates.Theroomflickerswithlight.Coolair

blastsagainstmyshoulders,searinglycoldtomysweatyandoverheatedflesh.Andthencomesasoft
click.Itrythedooronemoretime,notknowingwhatelsetodobuthopinganyways.Theoptimismbears
fruit.Withthepowercomingon,allatonce,themechanismworksagain.Istepoutintothenextroom,
scanningforMilla.

Finally,Ifindheronthefloor,hershudderingframemarredbyviolent-lookingburns.Sheopens

hereyesatme,dazed,andfullofshock.Ifollowhergazeupwardtotwowirestapedtogether.

Shetriestosaysomething,butthesyllablescomeoutgarbled.
“Shh.Letmeguess.Itdoesn'tlookverysecure,andweshouldgetthefuckoutwhilewecan.”
Shemanagesajerkynod.
“Thenletmetakecareofthat.I'llcarryyou.I'msorry,inadvance—thisisprobablygonnahurt.”
Iheftherovermyshoulder,firemanstyle,despitehermoanofpainattheburns.Butfeelingher

skinagainstmineisoddlyreassuring,evenifshe'dprobablybemoreself-consciousaboutbeingnaked
wereshenothalfdead.

Themechanismonthemaindoorworks,too,dumpingusbackontherestoftheship,tobravethe

stairstowardthemaindeck.Thefreedomisexhilarating.Ilaywithheronthemandeck.Shestillmakes
littlepainednoises,andIstrokeherhairandholdhergently.

Itshouldn'tcomeasasurprise,thatshe'ddothatforme.ButtheleastIcandoisappreciatethe

gesture.Ikissmywaydownherbody,kissingjustfarenoughfromeachburnnottohurt.“Theylookjust
likeyourfreckles.”

Finally,shefindswords.“Liar.Youdon'thavetoprotectmyfeelings.Andyoudon'thavetokiss

myass.”

“I'mserious.”
“Iam,too.Youwouldn'tbehereifitwasn'tforme.Youcouldalwaystakethemupontheiroffer,

youknow.I'll—I'llmakeiteasyforyou.Ifyouhelpmedownthestairs,I'llyankthetapeoffthewires—”

“Ifyoueversuggestthatagain,we'llhavewords.”Ican'teventhinkaboutlivingwithouther,even

assuminganoptimistictakeongamblingthatthey'dkeeptheirpromisetosetthesurvivorfree.

“Ihadto—”
“Iknow.Youhadtooffer.ButI'mturningitdownunequivocally.”Unsurehowtoimpartmy

seriousnesstoher,IyankoutthehandfuloftapestucktohershirtfromwhenIwasholdingit.It'snotas
sticky,butstillstickyenoughtoprovethepoint.“Ifyou'regoing,I'mgoing,too.”

AndIwrapthetapearoundourwrists,asbestIcanwithittorn.Shetugsit,flatteredbutalittle

cranky.“Youcould'vewaiteduntilafterIpeed,Iguess.”

“That'smygirl.Alwaysapaininmyass.”

Nowthatwe'rebackintheopenair,thingsalmostfeel...normal.Likeourfaithineachother

survived,andsolongaswekeepthat,we'llbeokay.

“Wanttoscandalizethemalittle?Showthemjusthowconcernedweare?”
Shepropsherselfuponherelbows.“What'dyouhaveinmind?”
“Oh,nothing.Justalittleshow.”
“You'rewicked,”Millamurmurs,assheopensherthighsforme.“Justmindthebruises.”
Iobey,clutchingherhandinmineandkneelingbetweenherlegs,sayingthankyoutheonlywayI

can.

Onlywhenshe'swrithingintomytouch,herpussytighteningaroundmyfingerscanIbelieveshe's

trulyputthethoughtofendingthisaside.OnlywithherswollenclitthrobbingagainstmytonguecanI
trustthatshe'snotlookingforanexcusetotakeallofourburdensontoherself.

OnlywithherheartbeatingagainstmypalmandhernipplesrisingtoattentioncanItrustthatshe's

allhere,allmine,notgivingthempiecesofherselfasacompromise.

Butit’sstillnotenough.Ishovemypantsovermyhipsandcrawloverher,coveringherbody

withmineasthoughitmightbesomeprotectionfromthefuriesraininghellonus.Sheholdsmyeyes,a
littleoftheoldwantonnessbreakingfreefromthepainhazethat'sconsumedher.Herchindipsslightly,a
clearplea,oneI’monlytoohappytoaccept.Islidehomeslowly,herwetheatalmostoverwhelmingly
perfectaroundmyeagercock.

OnlywhenIfeelhercuntmilkingmeofeverylastdropcanItrustthatthewordsIloveyouare

enough.

Fourteen,Milla

Calderfucksmeslowly,atfirst,carefulnottograbanyofthesingedspots.Butjustknowinghe’snoticing
themandavoidingthemunnervesme.I'veneverbeenself-consciousaboutmyscars;they’remarksofa
lifehard-lived.Butrightnow,eachsoreareaisareminderofthingsI’drathernotthinkabout.Icatchmy
hipsagainstthebackofhisthighstobeghimtotakemeharder,knowingthathe'llgetsolostinmy
desperationthathe’llforgettohandlemedelicately.

Heobliges,sinkinghisteethintomynecksohardIyelp,andclenchmylegsaroundhimin

surprise.Hisskinslidesagainstmine,softandheatedagainstthemajorityofme,butsearinglyroughover
sensitizedburns.Asthoughhemightrubmeawaytorevealsomethingnew,andpristine,beneathmy
batteredexterior.

Ithurtstodrawbreathsintomyachinglungs;everytimemyribcageexpands,it’simpossibleto

ignorethatmychestmustbebruisedprettybadly.

IfI’mgonnawearmarks,Iwantittobesomethoughtthatcanmakemehappy.“Breakme,”Igasp

toCalder,unsurewhetherit’sworthtryingtopullmyselftogetherenoughtoarticulateitcompletely.

Butaftersolongreadingmymoods,testingmyendurance,that’salltheprovocationheneeds.The

nexttimehebites,histeethbreakskin.Thepainbloomssoloudlyinmyskulleventhestingoftheburns
fadestothebackground.Myeyesshootopenandmyskinalmostsingsfromthesuddenabsenceof
complaintfromtherestofmyinjuries.Theabruptshiftinsensationisenoughtosendmeovertheedge,
buryingmyfaceinhisnecktohidethetearspricklingmyeyes.

Ifitwasn’tfortheunusuallywarmtexturedflooringunderneathme,Icouldalmostbelieveus

home,defilingeverysurfacestrongenoughtoholdourweight.

Butrealityhastointrudeatsomepoint.Andsoonafterhereleasesme,thesunstartstoset,andthe

realityofmybatteredbodycomesback.Shallowscrapesfromthenailsstingwitheverymovement,asdo
theforgottenburns.IlieawakehoursafterCalder'sgonetosleepcurledaroundme.Maybeit’sjustthe
aftereffectsofsomuchadrenaline,butitdoesn’tfeelsafe.

I'musedtofeelingthatmylife'saperformanceforsomeunseenaudience.UsedtowatchingwhatI

sayanddo.ButCalderwasright—makingthechoicetocarryon,asmuchaswecan,asthoughourlives
aren'tinthebalance...itfillsmewithasenseofpowerandsecurity.

Maybeweshouldsetwatchshifts,butifoneofusissleeping,andtheotherguarding,atalltimes,

we'llneverhaveachanceatescaping.Andwe'driskourcaptorsgettingevenmoreviolent,tocowus.At
least,that'swhatI'ddo,ifIhadasmuchmanpowerastheseguys'vegotto,tokeepthisthing
comparativelyoperational.

WhileCaldersleeps,IsetupnoisetrapswithalltheemptycansIcanfind.That'satleastsome

protection.AndIregretfullyslipmyshirtbackon,coveringuptheevidenceoftheday.

Caldersleepspeacefully,calmlikethedead.It'ssuchastrangething,rememberinghowrestlessly

hesleptwhenwefirstmet.Buttimeandagain,he'sbeentestedinfireandemergedashonedsteel.As
conflictedasIamaboutmypartinit,it'shardtoseetheprocessasbad,beingsoclosedtothefinished
product.

I'mnotgonnaregretanything.Withthatpromise,Iletgoofsomeofmyfear.
Andintheend,that'stheonlythingthatletsmedriftoff,armswrappedtightaroundCalderincase

theymoveus.

Fifteen

ThingsseemnormalwhenIwakeup,whichinretrospectshouldstrikemeasthefirstsignthatsomething's
wrong.Calder'sskinwhisperssoftlyagainstmine,andhisbreathticklesmybreasts.Helooksupenough
toticklemyneck,hisbeardpricklingmetosomethingresemblingwakefulness.Hisheaddipsdown,lips
tracingdelicateshapesacrossmyskin.Andthenhestops.Iblink,andhalfheartedlytrytotughisface
backtomyskin,sleepstillthreateningtodragmeunder.Andhegentlyshakesmyhandsoffhisface,and
squeezesthem.“Wakeup,birdie.Now.”

Thequietauthorityinhisvoicerousesmeinstantly.Iscrewmyeyesshutandreopenthem,mostof

thewaytoalert.“What?What'swrong?”

Myeyesflytomynoise-traps,butnoneofthemhavebeensprung.IrecitetomyselfeverywhereI

placedone,incaseI'mmissingany,andasI'mreplayingmyinsomniacdaze,theshirtstandsout.Iwas
dressed,orasdressedasIeveramhere,whenIwenttosleep.Now,myshirt'sgone.Nowhereinour
littlearea.Myhandsflytomybareskin,andIlookdown,disbelievingly.AndmyheartfallsasIseethe
extentofit.

Writtenacrossmybreastsinsomekindofgreasypencilisamessage.Ittakesmeseveralseconds

toreadit,sinceI'mseeingitfromthewrongangle.

Noescape.Firstconfessionduetomorrow.We'llknowifyoulie.

Thereactionssinkin,oneatatime.Humiliation.Theywerecoloringonmelikegoddamndrunk

teenagersatasleepover.Violation.Mybody,baredfortheirscrutinyandmanipulation.Anger,andthe
urgetofuckingriptheirballsoff.Calderlookslikehecan'tdecidewhethertoholdmedownlestItryto
followthaturgethrough,doithisowndamnself,orlaugh.

Tobuyhimselftimetothink,hedampenshissweatpantswithoneofthewaterbottlesandscrubs

asmuchashecanoffme.Asheworksatthewords—themarkingsarestubborn—Ibecomeawarethat
I'mtrembling.Idon'tlikebeingtouchedbystrangersatthebestoftimes,andwhileIdon'tseeanynew
bruisesorhickeys,Ican'tputitoutofmymindthatI'vegotthingsotherthandeathtobeworriedabout
here.

“Breathe,birdie.Don'tletitgettoyou.”
“You'vegottabeshittingme.Don'tletitgettome?SomeassholehadhishandonmytitswhileI

wasasleep!”

“Yeah,andIhaveeveryfaithyou'llfigureoutsomefittingpunishmentforit.Butinordertoenact

thatpunishment,wehavetodealwiththis.Wehavetostayalive,staytogether—”

Theunspokenlingersbetweenus,andIduckmyhead,forcingmyinhalationstoslow.“So,what,

then?”

“Well,forthemoment,theywantawrittenconfession.”
“That'snotagoodidea.”
“Iknow,butwhatifnexttime,it'saslicedhamstring,insteadofalittlehumiliation?”
Thatmakesmeglareathim.Howcanhebesocalmaboutthis?Then,helooksupatme,and

there'snothingcalminhisdemeanor.“I'mjustasmadasyouare,love.Justthethoughtofit—Icanhardly
thinkbeyondbeinginsideyouagain,toremindmyselfthatyou'remine,andwhatevershittylibertiesthey
takewithyoudoesn'tchangethat.Justimaginingsomeoneelse'shandsonyou,letaloneagainstyourwill
—”Heclampshislipstogetherandshakeshishead.Oddly,thegesturemakesmerelaxsomewhat;at
leastit'snotjustme.“Iwouldn'ttakethesatisfactionofdoingityourselfawayfromyou,butevenifyou
wereinclinedtoplaynice,there'snotellingwhatI'ddobehindyourback.”

AsIturntoglareatCalder,alittlegrayboxoverhisshoulderattractsmyattention.Ihavenoway

ofgettingitdownorsmashingit,butIhaveadifferentideaforchannelingmyrage.IleadCalder'seyes
overtoitassubtlyasIcan.“Theywantareaction.Whatdoyouthink?Pretendwe'rescreamingateach
other?Justflipthemoff?”

“Thismaysoundalittleself-serving,butiftheywantyoutobeupsetandmetobepossessive,

isn'tthebestreactionnoneofthat?”

“Youmightbeontosomethingthere.I'mallears.”
Andthenhesitsnexttome,loopinganarmaroundmyshoulder.“Sojustlaugh,andsmile,andbe

yoursunnyself.Becausetheycan'tbreakyou.Noonecan.”

Iblushatthepraise.“Can'tbreakus.”
“You'reright,”hesays,andleansuntilhislipsareasecondawayfrommeetingmine.“Us.”
Forthesecondtimethatday,wemakeloveoncamera,smilingasbroadlyaswecan,makingas

muchnoiseaswecan,justtoletthemknowthattheycanshovethosemindgamesrightuptheirass.

Theyhavenoideawhothey'redealingwith.

***

Aftertheafterglowfades,theseriousdiscussionssetin.Wekeepourmannerismsaslightaswecan,for
thecameras,butit'sdifficultinlightofthesubjectmatter.

“Ifsomeone'sgonnadoit,itshouldbeme.You'vebeenlessinvolvedintheworstofit.Ibear

moreresponsibilityfor—”

“Ithoughtyouwereoverthiskamikazebullshit?I'mnotgoingtoletyoushouldermorethanyour

share.Stoppunishingyourselfforthis.We'vebothactedhowwethoughtwasbest,andthatwasbound
togetusthiskindofattention.”

“It'snotaboutpunishment—it'saboutsurvival.It'sbetterifyousurvive.You'remorelikelytobe

ableto—”

“Towhat?Spendtherestofmylifeterrifiedandalone?Let'sbeclear,here,birdie.Survivingis

nottheautomaticblessingyouthink.Andyouweretheonewhoalreadypointedoutthatthey'relesslikely
toletmelive,evenifitmeansbreakingtheirownrules.”

Calderhasapowerfulwayoftalking,ano-nonsensetonethat'sdifficulttorespondto.SoIgivein

andputdowntheonecardIhaveleft.“ThatwaswhyIwasn'tnexttoyouwhentheytookus,youknow.I
wasalreadyleaving,totellthecopsIdiditallbeforeitcouldsplashbackonyou.Thisiswhathasto
happen.”

Calder'sfacesetsinamixofstubbornnessandpain.Thatlineofargument,thereminderofmy

duplicity,cutsdeep.“Yeah,wellyou'renotgonnatryitagain.”

“So...what?Youreallydon'tcareifyoudiehere?Yougivemoreofashitaboutsomeideological

versionofloyaltythanredeemingtheshityourfamily'sdone?Forallyoutalkedaboutthethingsyou'ddo
whenyouwereloose—”It'shardnottofeelbetrayedbythat,sincethatidealisticneedforactionwasone
ofthethingsthatsoftenedmetohiminthefirstplace.

“Maybewe'renotsupposedtoredeemeachother.Maybewe'resupposedtomakeeachothers'

tripstohellworthwhile.Maybeyou'dactuallycommittomeifyouacceptedthat.”

“What?Thisisn'taboutcommitment,it'sabout—”
“Youcancallitwhateveryouwant,butitis.Yousaidyou'dwearmyring,thatwe'dseethis

throughtogether.Andnowyou'retryingtoshovemeoutofit.Ipromisedmyselftoyou.Despiteyour
flaws,andthebadshityou'vedone.”

Ifinallyjustgiveup.Hehasawayofmakingitseempersonal.Andsolongasitstaysa

discussionoffidelityandcommitment,it'snotgonnabeadiscussionaboutwhat'sactuallybestforus.

It'seasytoconsideractingonmyownagain,thoughIcanonlyimaginewhatCalder'dhavetosay

aboutthat.Thoughhe'sdisguiseditasalover'sobsession,there'smoretohisgentleconcernthansimply
affection.Shortlybeforewewereabducted,Ioverdosed,inamomentofdespairandweakness.Nowhere
nearenoughtodomorethanemotionaldamage,butwithsomuchmoreincentivetodothethingrightthis
time,it'sobviousthatCalder'seyesareopentothepotentialforit.

Also,Ican'tquitepersuademyselfthattheywouldn'tsimplykillhimnext.Itreassuresmethatat

leastifIdie,Icandiedefendinghim.Notabandoninghimtowhatevertheyhaveinstore.Butthe
emotionalweightofseeingthisthroughwearsonmemoreandmoreaswefighttomaintainnormalcy.

Caldermakesiteasytotakehonest-to-godjoyinsimplemoments,andtosmilenaturally.Butit

comeswithabitteredge,anawarenessthatifweflauntthistoomuch,they'llseparateusandI'lllosehim.
Afterall,wereItryingtobreakpeoplelikeus,it'swhatI'ddo.

Themorewetrytosmilethroughit,toprovetheyaren'tgettingtous,themoreasenseof

forebodingsetsin.They'regonnarespond.Theonlyquestionishow.Athoroughinspectionofeachother
revealslittleneedlemarks,explaininghowtheykeptusasleep.

Wefinallysettledowninthatstairwell,trustingthattheywouldn'thaveroomtomaneuver.The

doordoesn'thaveanelectroniclockingmechanism,sothere'snowayforthemtosealusinhere,away
fromthecomparativefreedomoftheopenair.

Mybackaches,andpain'ssetintomostofmyjointsfromyesterday'sexertions.Butthatisn'twhat

keepsmeawake,longintothenight.

It'scarefuldeliberationoverwhetherCalder'dbebetteroffifIthrewmyselfovertherailand

trustedthedroptotheseatofinishmeoff.

Sixteen

“AndhereIthoughtyouweregonnabetheonetobreakfirst.”

“Mmm?”
“You'vegotsomesteel.It'ssomethingtosee.”
Irollover,clearingthedeepvoiceoutofmyhead.Ifuckinghatethosekindsofdreams.Thatit's

lingeredthislongisstrange;usuallytheystartblurringthemomentIwakeup.Maybeit'sthedrugsthey
gaveus.I'llhavetoaskCalderifherememberstalkingtomeatall,duringthenight.

Caldersleepsnexttome,hisfingerslacedwithmine.Irolloverandlistentohisheartbeat,

willingmyselftorejoinhim.Unconsciously,hepresseshischeekintomyhair.Asidefromthehardfloor,
itcouldbeanylazySunday.

Ascreechinterruptsourslowwakeup.Metalonmetal.Adooropening.Thenoiserousesus

instantly.Thehammer'sinmyhandbeforeit'sconsciouslyoccurredtomethataweaponwouldbenice.

CalderandIventurefurtherintotheinterior,lookingforthesourceofthenoise.Mostly,things

lookexactlyastheyhave,withtheexceptionofahandfulofnewitemsinthekitchenspace,includinga
knife.Weexchangeaquickglanceattheweaponsinourhands,wordlessly,andthentrade.WithCalder's
strength,he'lldoseriousdamagewiththehammer,andI'vegotasoftspotforknifes.

Themessageisobvious—first,theywantedusempty-handed,becausetheywantedusconfused,

off-kilter,andintimidated.Now,theywantusarmed,toencourageustogoforeachother'sthroats.I'dput
moneyonit—something'sgonnahappentoturnuptheheat.Calderseemstoknowit,too.Ihefttheknife,
testingtheslipperinessofthepolishedwoodhandle.Andhisfingerstightenonthehaftofthehammer.

Thecrewquarterdoorsarelighter.Wecouldprobablywreckthemwiththehammer.Butitwould

belookingforaneedleinahaystack,withmaybetwentydoorsperfloor,andseveralfloors.Andthe
noise...they'dcatchonquickly,themomentwehitafloorsomeonewasactuallyon.

Soweworkourwaylower,startingatthebowelsoftheshipandpatrollingourwayup.The

lowestlevelsarepurelyutilitarian.Dimlylit,withvariousloudengineshumming.Butasweworkour
wayhigher,themechanicalspacesbecomesmaller,moretuckedaway.It'slabyrinthine,withfloorsof
cargostorageoccupyingthemainspace,butpartsoftheenginespaceandmechanicalsetupoccupyingthe
remainingspaces,too,accessibleonlybymanholeorasingleflightofstairs.

Once,thetwistedtanglewascomfortingtome.Ilovedfindingeverylittlehideaway,tryingto

piecetogetherwhateachbitofmachinerywasfor,whileIwentaboutthedailyworkofmaintainingthose
metalbehemoths.Now,there'sthepotentialforadangeraroundeverycorner,andIwantnothingsomuch
astobedonelooking,soIcanjustdealwithwhateverthedamageis.

Finally,onthesecondcargoleveldown,Calderjerkshischintowardanopendoor.Itlookslike

basicallythesamesetupastheroomwefoughtourwayoutofafewdaysago:cargostorage,withseveral
littlespacesattheback,includingaseriesofconnectingrooms.Theotherfloorshaveasimilardesign,
butwereshuttight,thecargospacerunningwithemergencylightingonly.Thisone'slit.Atleast,thearea
atthefrontis.There'snothingthere,butstillmoreroomstocheck.

Helingersinthefirstdoorway,gropingforalightswitch.Ipushpasthim,myeyeshaving

adjustedtothedarkslightlyfaster,andheflicksitonjustasIbegintomakesenseofwhatI'mseeing.The
lightclicksonfortheentirerowofrooms.

Thenewlightsendsspearsofpainthroughmyeyes,initsbrightness.Butwithagonizingclarity,

I'mpulledintoascenefromanightmare.

Calder'sfasterontheuptakethanme.Hedropsthehammer,andgoesformyknife.Itfallsfrommy

limpgrip,thehandlesmashingintomytoes.Heswearsandkicksittotheside,mutteringsomethingabout
howluckyIamthattheblademissedme.

Hisarmswraparoundme,tryingtodullthehorror.Ican'ttakemyeyesoffthatstilltableau,

perfectineverydetail,rightondowntothewallpaperinthenextroom.Someonepainstakinglypieced
thistogetherentirelyforme.There'snootherreasonforit.

Imightaswellbeinmyfrontroom,listeningtomyparentsflutteringaroundMara,theroom

permeatedwithherchokedbreaths,wetandinhuman-sounding,nothingliketheenergetickidIhated
havingtokeepaneyeon.

Theroomwe'reinispaintedtheexactsameshadeofpalepeachthatthewallsinthekitchenand

foyerwere,too.Everydetail'sperfect,pristine,andIalmostexpecttoseethelittleend-tableinthefoyer,
ahand-me-downheirloomfrommymom'sfamily.Butthattableis—orshouldbe—stillinplaceathome,
waitingformetocomeback.

Pastelfloralwallpaperpeeksthroughthenextroom.Ihaven'tthefaintestideahowtheymatched

it,sinceoneofthefirstthingsmydaddidtoseekclosurewastearingthatwallpaperoutofMara'sroom.

Everydetail'sperfect,rightondowntothedisturbinglylittlefigureneartheotherdoorway.

Layingflatinpajamapantsandaknee-lengthnightshirt,bothsoakedinblood.

Idon'tneedtoapproachtoknowwhatI'llsee.
Twobulletwounds:onetothestomach,onetothechest.
Calder'sholdonmeissuffocating,andhefinallyreleasesmetoretchtotheside.Myearsring,

andittakesentirelytoolongformetorealizethatit'sfrommyownscreaming.

Ican'tlookaway.Ihavetofindsomedetailthat'soff.Somethingwrong.Someproofthatthisisan

elaboratehoax,andnotthemostextremehallucinationI'veeverexperienced.Thefloor'scoldundermy
feetasIstepforward,heedlessofthebloodIimaginefeelingonmyskin.

Ineedtofocusontheseamatherscalp—awig,slippingtothesidetorevealaseriesofbumps

undertheskin.Ineedtofocusonthelackofbruisingaroundthewounds,andbloodonherclothes...I
needtoremindmyself,overandover,thatthisisjustlikeJames.Thatwhilethesefuckersareevilenough
tobuyachild'sbodytoposeanddefile,atleasttheydidn'tdoitwhileshewasstillalive.

Calderseizesmyhandandtugsmeback,likelywiththethoughtofforcingmeoutoftheroom

beforeIseemore.ButIcan'tunseeit.Ihavetoknow.Ishakehimoffme,violently,andkneelbythelittle
body.

Reddish-brownhairseveralshadesdarkerthanmine,andfacialfeatureswithagoodamountof

babyfat,still.

There'snotenoughblood.Justahandfulofclottedclumps.Shewasn'tkilledhere.Justbrought

here.

Didherfamilygetonsomeone'sbadside?Orweretheyalreadycoveringupherdeathforother

reasons,andfiguredtheymightaswellposeherforthissickcharade?Ordidtheybuyherfromahospital
aftershediedfromsomethingelse?

Atherthroat,moremarkings.Fleshcutapart,andclippedbacktogether.
Autopsyscars.Theywaverinfrontofmyeyeslikeamirage.
Whichisreal?Thememoriessearedintomymind'seye,overlaidontopofthelittlebodyatour

feet?Orthemomentsofclarityamongthehaze,givingmymindsomethingtograsptoprovethatthisisn't
thatbad,thosebastardsaren'tthatsick.

She'snotMara.She'sjustnot.
I'mhallucinating.Iknowit.Icanseethebloodonmyhandsandfeet,butthere'snothingthere.I

brushreverentfingersagainsthercalf,andtracetherivetedtextureofthefloornearher.Theycomeaway
wet,butnotwithblood.There'sseveralsmearsofmilkyfluidonthefloorsurroundingher,stillslick.
WhatIfeltundermyfeetaminuteago—itwasn'tblood.

“AndhereIthoughtyouweregonnabetheonetobreakfirst.”
Sothisishowthey'regonnabreakme.

Thiswholegruesomediorama,it'sareminder:weknowwhoyouareandhowtohurtyou.

Seventeen,Calder

Milla'sgonecatatonic,kneescementedtothefloor.IttakeseverythingIhavenottogooverthere,and
holdher,butthisseemstobebeyondsuchcasualcomfort.

Shecrossesherarmsoverherchest,anddigshernailsintoherchestuntilitleavesangryred

streaks,wherethescrawledmessagewas,earlier.

Idon'tneedtoknowspecificstoknowthegistofwhattheydid.They'retorturingus,butmore

specifically,they'reaimingtheirheaviestblowsather.Theywantsomethingfromme.Theywantto
shapethingssothatI'mtheonewho'sleft.Theywanttogoadherintoaction,toputpressureonme.

Andtheyknowwhatthey'redoing;Mil'sshownmeherphotoalbum.Myheartbreaksforher,and

forthefamilyofwhatevergodforsakenkidlaidoutheretomaketheirpoint.

Afterseveralminutesoftersequiet,Iriskkneelingnexttoher.Ipullherclosetome,takingher

handsinoneofminetoblockthemfromhervision.Herfingersslideagainstminesmoothly,andIlookat
ourjoinedhandsinsurprise.She'sstaringatthecorpse,andwhenIfollowthedirectionofherlook,I
spotwhatshealreadysaw:severaldampspotsonthekid'sclothing,andseveralpatchesofwhitishfluid
onthefloor.Stillwet,andtooslipperytobewater.

Nauseaoverwhelmsmeagainastheobviousexplanationsinksin.I'maghastatthelengthsthey'll

gototoaddeverylevelofhumiliationorfeartheycan.Eventhinkingthatthekidwasplainlyalready
deadwhentheyputherhere...theyjackedoffaroundherjusttotellMillathatnomatterhowbadher
worstmemoriesare,theycanmakethemworse.Justtoseehercrack.

Justtoseeherwhenitsinksinthatitcouldbeher,next.Yesterday,herbodywastheircanvas.

Tomorrow,itmightbetheirplaything.Those'rethekindoffuckingevilprickswe'reupagainst.

IreleaseMillatothrowup.Theflooringcreaks,andwhenIlookup,she'shalfwayacrossthe

cargoarea,thehammerinherhandagain.Ihurrytograbtheknifeandcatchup,notlikinghersilence.

Ifinallypullevenwithheronthestairs.She'stakingthemtwoatatime,makingherwaytoward

thecrewquarters.Onthebottommostofthelockedfloors,sheswingsthehammerashardasshecanat
wherethehingemeetsthewood.Itsplintersloudly,butnotenoughtoseparatethehingefromthedoor.
Shetriesagain.

Apartofme'scheeringheron,wantingtobreakthroughthisdoor,andintoanyoftheotherones

thatmaybelocked,attackinganyonewho'sintherooms.Buttherestofmeknowsthatthere'llbe
punishmentforsobrazenanaction,andthatwe'dbetterbedamnreadyforthatifwe'regonnadoit.We
don'tknowwhetherourcaptorsarearmed,orhowmanythereare.

Irememberthatanger,anditsfutility.Andit'salmostfunnywatchinghersuccumbtoit.Some

deliciousbitofironyinthesituation,beneathitsmacabretrappings.Butit'sallburiedundersomething
else—resentment.

Allofthisfury,thisdrivetohurtsomeone,todosomething,it'smorethanshewasabletomuster

forwhatwassupposedtobeourlifetogether.Iloveherwholeheartedly,butbeingbackhereagain,
seeingherrespondingtoeverythingshealreadydishedouttome...itmakesitharderformetoacceptthat
love.Ishouldn'tcare,notaftereverythingshe'sdone.MaybeIwascrazytofallforherinthefirstplace.
Buthindsightwon'tactuallyfixthings.Andwe'retogether.Whetheritwasstupidormasochistic,or
outrightdangerous,wedidfallforeachother.It'stoolateformetobackoutnow.

Thefirsthingepopsfreeofthepanel—Ineedtostopherbeforeshegetsthroughitandpisses

themoff.Whensheraisesthehammer,Iseizeit,andpullitbackwards.Sheclingstoit,goingbackwards
too,andIstumble,andwrapanarmaroundhersoshewon'thurtherselfwhenwefall.Shelandsontopof
me,butifIletherkeepthatadvantage,she'sgonnagorightbacktotryingtogetuskilled.Irollusover,
trappingherunderme.

Shescreamslikeawildcat,lostinaworldofviolence.Atfirstitfrightenedmetoseeherlike

this.LikeademonwearingthefaceofawomanIloved,desperately.Butnowitdoesn'tscareme.I'vegot
myowninnerfire,andIknowhowtofightback.

Sheneedsanenemy.Sheneedstohurtsomeonetofeelsafe.SoIplaythatrole,sinkingmyteeth

intohershoulder,andseizingahandfulofherhair.Shegaspsasthatpullsherheadtotheside,exposing
herearlobeandcheektome.Ilowermylipstoherearandwhisper,“Wehavetofightsmart,birdie.
That'snotsmart.Youwannafightstupid?Youfightme.”

Andshedoes,hernailsbitingintomyarmaroundherwaist,andherassrubbingagainstmycock

asshetriestogetherkneesunderher.

Oneofherelbowsslamsintomyribspainfully,andImanagetowrapmyarmhigher,topinhers

againsthersides.Weliethereseveralminutes,breathinghard,untilshefinallybreaksdownintotears.
AndthenIgetoffher,holdingherwhileshesobs.

Eventually,whenhertearshavefadedtosniffles,sheasks,inthatdrylypragmaticvoiceI'vecome

tolearnisherathermostsadistic,“Sohowdowefightsmart?”

Ipullheragainstmychest,soIcanlowermyvoiceandfaceawayfromthecamerainthe

stairwell.“Theycomewhenwesleep,right?Wecanusethat.”

Hereyeslightup,awickedgrinplayingacrossherface.“When?”
“Tonight,ifyoulike.If—ifthatwaspunishmentfornotplayingalongwiththeconfession,they're

notgonnawaittoolongtotrytomakethelessonstick.Ifwewritesomethingouttonight,tolurethemtous
—”

Shetakesadeepbreath,deeperthanI'veseenhertakeinawhile.Iknewgivingherapurposeand

anoutletwouldwork.“Let'sdoit.”

“Win,loseordraw,tonight,Iloveyou.Sodon'tgetyourselfkilled.”
“Youeither.”

Eighteen

Millacurlsinfrontofme,littlespoon,withthehammersandwichedbetweenus.Herkneesarepressed
together,thekitchenknifebetweenthem.Toanyoneelse,itlookslikewe'rejustsleeping.Butthenearest
cameratoourcampsightseemsunlikelytocatchmorethanourfeet.Theyshouldn'tknowwe'rearmed.It's
thebestchancewehave.

Pickingthisfightisn'tlikelytodousanygood,thoughwemighthaveachancetostealsomeone's

keysinthechaos.It'sworthatry.Butmoreimportantly,Millacan'tplaythevictimforever.It'snotinher.
AndI'dratherhaveherlashingoutatthemthanatme.

Everyleanmuscleinherbodyistensed,andunderothercircumstances,I'dtrytomassageitoutof

her.Butinstead,Iletmyarmdrapealongherhip,limply.

Itfeelslikehoursthatweliethere,breathinggently,listeningforanythingthatmightbe

approachingfeet.

JustwhenI'vebeguntogiveuphopethatanyone'scoming,afewlowvoicescometous,along

withsoftfootfalls.“—gonnahavetoboardthatdoorup.It'snotgonnaholdifsomeoneelsehasahissyfit
again.”

Milla'schestheavesinasilentlaugh.
“Noshit.Isweartofuck,whenthatlittlebitchcameatitwiththehammer,Ijustaboutjumpedout

ofmyskin.Who'dathoughtsuchatinythingcouldbesoferocious?”

“Iknow,right?Thefairersex,myass.”
Athirdvoicechimesin.“Yousoundalittletooadoringthere,man.I'mnotgonnafindyoujerking

itto'chickswithpowertools'pornos,amI?Don'tforget,she'sprobablygonnadie,ifthebosshashis
way.”

“Idunno—pushcomestoshove,I'dratherfaceamandownanydaythanarighteouslypissed

chick.Ithinkshecouldtake'im.Justneedsmoreofapush.”

“Shh—we'reclose.”
Thestepsgetcloser,andit'sallIcandotokeepmybodyrelaxed.Fingersalightonmyarm,gently

probingforavein,andfromthewayMilla'sbodyshifts,someone'sdoingthesametoher.Webothspring
toaction,herdartingfortheknifebetweenherlegs,andmepunchingtheguystillholdinganeedle
intendedforme.Milla'sarmfliesforwardhardenoughtoliftherchestfromtheground,andheraim's
true.Asprayofbloodhitsus,andsherollsawayfrommetogivemeroomtomaneuver,facinganother
manasthefirstfallstothefloor.Iseizethehammerandswingitinanarc,notlookingwhichend'sgoing
where.

Thenail-removerendembedsitselfinmyattacker'sskull,andanothermanlungesformewhileI

trytowrenchitfree.Milla'sonhiminasecond,hernakedbodysplatteredinblood,andherknifesunkto
thehiltbetweenhisribs.Shejerksitfreewithasickeninglywetnoise.Foramoment,westareateach
otherinconfusion.Threedeadmen.Asurprisingvictory.

“Givemeahand,”Millasays,andstartsfriskingtheguyshestabbed.He'snotquitedead,but

doesn'tseemtobeabletoputupmuchofafightasshestripshimofhisshirtandslipsitoverherred-
smearedflesh.Thestainssoakthroughthefabric,tracingRorschachblotpatternsacrosshertonedcurves.

There'snowayanyoftheirpantsaregonnastayuponher,butoneofthemhasapistolina

shoulderholster,andtheyallhaveknives.Ituckoneinmywaistband.Thankfucktheydidn'tgettoanyof
theirweapons.

“Youwantashirt,too?”
Frankly,theideaofsomeoneelse'sbloodstainedshirtstickingtomyskinisn'tappealing.“I'm

good.”

“Nowwhat?”
Sheholdsuphiskeys.“Waitfor'theboss'tosendsomeoneelse,someonemeaner?Ortakethe

fighttohim?”

“Ilikethewayyouthink.”

***

Millakickstheampulestheydroppedandtakesmyarmtoleadmeupthestairs.“Weshouldhurry.I'd
rathernotbefightingonafightofstairsiftheycatchontoofast.”Shenearlyskidsonthefirststep,her
feetslick.Sheleaveslittlebloodyfootprintsbehindher,asurrealtrail.

Myheartpoundsinmyearsasweraceupflightafterflight.Weavoidthelowestblockedoff

floor,fearingtheymighthavesomeonestandingwatchbythenear-brokendoor.

Finally,atthedoor,shenodstome.“Keepaneyeout,whileIfigureoutwhichkeyitis.”
Shetestskeyafterkey,asInervouslyscanthelanding.
Finally,thedoorclicksopen.Thehallontheothersideisempty,unnervinglyso.Westart

forward,herastepbehindme.Ifanyone'sintherooms,theycouldcomeoutatanypoint,tocornerus.I
thumbthesafetyoffthepistol.

Attheendofthecorridor,weturnthecorner,andfindourselvesfacetofacewiththemuzzleof

anothergun.Themanholdingitgrinswide,andwinksatmebeforeaimingitatMilla.Sheflipshimoff,
andgesturesatmetokeepthegunup.

“Walk,”hesays,twitchingthegunbacktowardthewaywecame.
ItradealookwithMilla,thoughit'snotapleasantone.Nodoubtshe'spissedatmefornottaking

theshot.ButevenifIhad,itonlywould'verousedtheothers.Whetherornothegottheshotoffor
missed,we'dbothhavebeendeadeitherway.

Hecuesupawalkie-talkie.“I'vegotthem.We'regoingforalittlewalk,now.Followmeonthe

monitors.”

Millashivers,crossingherarmsaroundherselftensely.Knowingsomeone'sseenyounakedona

videomonitorissomethingentirelydifferentthanbeingparadedinfrontofhimalmostasexposed.
Especiallywhenhehasaguntrainedonyou.“Youwannatellmewhothefuckyouare,littleman?”

Ah,yes.ThefirebrandIknow.Unwillingtostopgivingpeopleshitwhenshe'supset.
Helaughs.“Doesitmatter?Keepmoving.”Thewayhelooksatherisnearlyenoughtomakeme

losemyshit.

Wemakeourwaydownthestairsatgunpoint,rightbacktoouroldcamp.Heglancesatthebodies

aroundhimwithamusement,thelightglintingoffhispalebrowneyes.“Thatwasprettyimpressive.It
won'thappenagain.”

HeholdsouttwomoreneedlesliketheonesMillakicked.“You'regonnadoseeachother,and

givemethosekeys.”

Millaglancesatme,silentlypleadingwithmetojustfuckingchargehim.ButIdon'tdare,

knowinghisfirstbullet'sforher.

Ilowerthegun,andacceptthesyringes.“Likewe'regonnaknowhowtofindavein,”Igrowl,just

toletoutsomeanxiety.

“You'lldojustfine.Goon.Youfirst.”
Millafindsaveininmyarm,andinjectsme.Almostimmediately,theworldbeginstogetloopy,

likeI'minafreakishdream.Ican'tmovemylimbs.Sheinjectsherself,too,andslumpsnexttome.

Onlythendoeshelowerhisgun.Hekicksoneofthecorpses.“Ifuckingtoldthoseschmuckstobe

careful.”Hetakesourfakeconfessionsfromthefloorwhereweleftthem,andskimsthepagesover.

IdisappearedJimmyHoffa.I'mSantaClaus'sMistress.
I'mtheGrimReaper'sunderstudy.Ifillinforhimoften,buthedoesn'twantmetotell,lestGod

findouthowoftenhe'soutonabender.

ItattledonShawnBrookesinthesecondgrade.Butinallfairness,heshovedabottleof

Elmer'supmynostrilandsqueezed.Doyouknowwhatthatfeelslike,tryingtoblowitalloutbeforeit
driesandsticksthekleenextoyournose?

HekicksMillasavagely,andsherecoilswithadazedcry,slumpingintomylap.Hedropsthe

paperandkneelsoverus.“Well,tonight'sbeenaroyalfuckingwaste.”

AndthelastthingIseeastheworlddarkensandsleeptakesmeishimkickingMilla,overand

overagain.Itrytoraiseahandtostophim,butthedrugsaretoomuchandmylimbsaretooheavy.

Whenthedreamscometome,they'refilledwithhervoicecryinginpain,andapairofcold

brown-grayeyes.

Nineteen,Milla

“Imean—Idon'tknowwhatIthought.Fuckknowsyouroldmanneverhadthebellyfortheserious
shit.Course,hedidn'thavetheballsformuch,anyways.Foldedlikeatable,andallittookwasone
phonecall.Nothinglikeyou.Goddamn,girl.IfIhadadozenjustlikeyouPiretti'sboyswouldbe
shittingbricksrightaboutnow.”

“And,don'tyoudarethinkthatmakesmesweetonyou.I'llstillcutyourheartoutandscrew

thehole,justthesame.”

ThefirsttimeIwakeup,Idon'tevenbotheropeningmyeyes.Ihurttoodamnmuchtoeven

attemptmoving.Ijustcurlintoatighterfetalposition,andtrytodriftbackoff.

Sometimelater,there'sahesitanthandonmyshoulder,andIshrugitoff.Itgripsmemorefirmly,

andshakes.OnlythendoIbotherresponding,swattingitoffmyandturningtowardmytormentor.“—the
fuck?”

Calder'seyeswidenwhenheseesmyface.“You'reokay.”
“Whywouldn'tIbe?”
Theeventsoflastnightcomebacktomeinarush,asdoesthereasonforthepain.Iblackedoutat

somepointwhilethemanfromupstairswasbeatingme.Mylipsarecrackedandbroken,anditfeelslike
theremightbeadamagedribinthemix,too.“Oh.”

“Yeah.”Hepassesathumbacrossmylip,anditcomesawayfleckedwithdriedblood.
“SoIguessnowweknowwhathappenswhenwepokethebear.Youshouldashottheasshole

whenyougotthechance.”

“Goahead,kitty.Clawifyoumust.Youknowdamnwellwewouldn'thavegottenoutofthere

aliveifwe'dpickedthatfightwiththerestofthem.Whichagunshotwouldhavecertainlydone.”
Underlyingtheirritationinhistoneisaffection.Itmakesmesmile,thatI'mthattransparent.

“Youthinkthatwastheworstofit?”
“You'rewelcometoreassuremeit'snot,ifyouknowsomethingIdon't.Idon'tthinkIknow

anythingatthispoint.”Hegrinsandshrugs.“Honestly,itseemsliketheyexpectedsomethingofthetype.
Obviouslyit'smoreimportantthatthingskeepgoingthanthattheyshootusonthespot.”

“Ican'timagineareasonforthatiftheydointendtoletoneofuslive.Itsaystheconfessionmust

behugetothem.Andthateventhoughit'swordedcarefully,theywanttomakesurethatyou'retheone
writingit.Theysureashellweren'ttryingtoleavemyhandsintact;Ihavenocluehownoneofmyfingers
arebroken.”

“Ican'targue,atleastnotwiththefirstpart.”CalderstaresatmelikeIknowsomethinghe

doesn't.

“Doesn'titseemlikethey'renothittingevenly?”Irubmytempleandmyhandcomesawaywith

flecksofdriedblood.“Andyouheard'emlastnight.They'regonnakeeptargetingme,becausetheywant
youscared,butnotharmed,atleastnotuntiltheygetaconfession.Thisisn'tabouttheSiren.It'sabout
somethingelsetheythinkcouldleadbacktothem,throughyou.”

Ihesitate,beforepressingforward.Idon'twanttosoundcrazyorparanoid.“Haveyouhadweird

dreamssincewe'vebeenhere?Someonetalkingtoyou?”

“Umm,no?ShouldIhave?”
“I'mnotsure,butIhave.Justlittlesnippets.Once,IthinkIassumeditwasyoutalking.Andwhen

IwasaloneIwashallucinatingoutofmymind.SoIwouldn'ttrustmyselftolabelanyofthatreality.ButI
heardhimtalkingtomelastnight,whenIwashalfin,halfout.AndIthinkhe'sbeendoingitallalong.I
don'tknowwhy,exceptmaybeheassumesI'mmoreinclinedtolisten...butit'smostlynonsense.Heseems
toknowsomestuffaboutmydad—he'dhavetoknowaboutmyfamily,with—”myvoicecracks,“some

ofthestuffhe'sdonetolashoutatme.Butitseemslikemore.Likehethinksheknowsme.Hisinterestin
you,that'sprofessional.Hisinterestinme?That'spersonal.”

Calderhelpsmetomyfeet,inspectingeveryexposedinchofme.Iglancedowntoseewhathe

sees,bemused,butamtakenabackathowmuchofmybodyisblackandblue.Atleastthefuckersleftme
withtheshirt.

“Christ,Milla.Youlooklikehell.”
“Geethanks.Ineverwould'veguessed.”
“Someday,birdie.SomedayI'llcuttheirballsoffandshovethemdowntheirthroats,fortouching

you.”

“Becausethat'sthepartofitthatbothersyou?”Igrinathim.“Guysareweird.”
“Maybeso.Butstill.Youfeellikewalkingaround?Seeingwheretheyputus,orifthere'sanything

toeat?”

Someunpleasantsmellpricklesmynose.“Idon'tthinkwe'regonnawanttoeatafterwelook

around.”

“Neverknowifwedon'ttry,Iguess.”

***

We'reinoneofthecrew'squarterbedrooms.Thatmuchisobvious.Andthedoorisn'tlocked.Thesmell's
strongerinthehall.

“Theywouldn'thavebothereddroppingushereiftheywerejustgonnaletusroamrightback

downthestairstowherewewere.”

“Probablynot.”
Indeed,thefirstdoortothestairsisnowlocked.I'mnotsureifwe'reononeofthelowercrew

floors,oroneoftheonesthatwasalwayslocked,towardthetop.Tobesafe,wechecktheothers,with
thesameresults.

Withnothinglefttodo,webegincanvassingthefloordoorbydoor.Nosignsoffoodleftforus,or

tools.Theforebodingatmospherebecomesalmostassuffocatingasthestenchaswegettothemiddleof
thecorridorandopenanotherdoor.

We'rebothontheedgeofcoughingbeforethedoor'sallthewayopen,thesmelltellinguswhat

we'regonnafind.Anothergoddamncreepshowdisplay.Another.Myhandsstartshaking,evenasIremind
myselfitcan'tpossiblybeworsethantheothers.“DoIevenwanttoknow?”Imutter,butdon'tbother
pausingforananswer.

“Doyou?”Calderasks,astepbehindme.
“Idon'tthinkshuttingthedoornowandwalkingawaydoesusanygood.”I'mpeptalkinghim,as

muchasmyself.“Besides.Howbadcoulditbe?”

“Right.ThisisyouI'mtalkingto.You'veprobablyseenworse.Probablydoneworse.”
“Regrettingthings,withaconfessionlooming,andprobablyyourprofessionalruinafterthat?”
“Notintheleast.”
Hewrapshisarmsaroundmywaistandburieshisfaceinmyhair,asIreachforthelightswitch.

Helooksupasitcomeson,andwesurveytheroomtogether.

Twomorecorpses.Aman,shottohell,proppedintoamostlystandingpositionagainstthewall,

andawomanleaningagainsthim,herheadinhislap.Idon'tseeanybulletholesinher,butavery
familiartattooonhershoulderpullsatmymind.Myskingoescold,andtheworldseemsdistant,asIpull
herbackfromhim,steadyingherbodyasitoverbalancesandshefallsbackward.

Herthroat'sslit,nearlydeepenoughtotakeherheadoff.Butit'sdefinitelyher.
Mykneeshitthefloor.Idon'thaveitinmetocry.ThelasttimeIsawher,itwasmyseventeenth

birthday.Shehademancipationpapersallfilledout.Satmeatthekitchentable,andtoldmeifIsigned
them,madeitlooklikeitwasmyidea,she'dgivemethehouse.

Sheneededtobedone.Sheneededtowalkaway.Shecouldn'tlivewiththeghosts,and,while

stillliving,Iwasoneofthem.Allofasudden,itallmadesense.HerpushingmetowardHarry,
encouraginghimtoteachmeconstructionandweldingskills.EncouragingmetogetmyGEDearlysothat
IcouldspendmysenioryearapprenticingforajobI'dbeenallbutpromised.Sheneededmetobeableto
takecareofmyself,soshewouldn'thaveto.Noneofitwasaboutmypotential—itwasallaboutherneed
tocutloosethelastthingthatboundhertothebrokenfoundationshe'doncebuiltahomeon.

Stony-faced,Isignedthepaperwork.Icutawaythehullofthepoisonedfruitthatboreme,and

prayedthatIwasn'tjustasrotten,inside.

“Where'reyougonnago?Didn'tRickgobacktohiswife?”
Shestaresatme,unsurewhethertoaskhowIknowhisname.Sheputhisnumberdownonceas

myemergencycontact,foraschoolfieldtrip.Butshewasprettyhighatthetime,soI'mnotsurprised
shedoesn'tremember.

“Shit—yeah.You'rebigenoughtohearthisshit.Strangetimes,right?”
Cometothinkofit,she'sprobablyhighoutofhermindrightnow.
“So?”
“Soyeah.Rick'sbackwiththebitch.Idon'tknowifhe'llcomebacktome,butI'mnottaking

himbackifhedoes.Imetsomeone—”Shestallsout,eitherlostinherownworld,ormaybe
wonderinghowmuchdetailshecangivebeforeitsquicksmeout.“Hewantsmetomoveinwithhim.
Becausehisdaughterlikesme.Andwithhisschedule,it'scheaperthanababysitter...sowhythehell
no—”

Istiffen.“Andthat'sjusteverythingisn'tit?Youkeeptellingyourselfthatshe'soutthere.You

toldyourselfthatifyoupoppedoutafewmorekids,she'dbereincarnatedinoneofthenewonesand
yourlife'dbesomehowperfect.Andwhenthatcouldn'thappen,youjustdecidedtohopethatmaybe
she'salreadyoutthereinsomeoneelse'sfamily.Butwhatabouttherestofus?”

“Camilla,youdonottalktoyourmotherthatway.”Uhoh,thefullname.I'mtremblinginmy

fuckingboots.

“Yeah?Well,I'mprettysurethethingyoujustaskedmetosignsaysyouaren'tmygoddamn

mother.”

“That'snot—that'snotfair.Andthat'snotwhatitsays.”
Hereyespleadwithmeforunderstanding.Tounderstandhowmuchworseherpainisthan

mine.Tosmileandforgiveher,soshecanwalkawaywithacleanconscience.ButI'mnotgonnamake
iteasy.Shecanlivewithalltheguiltshedeserves.

“Birdie?”Calderputsahandonmyshoulder,lightly.
“I'mnotgonnabiteyou,”Itellhim,fightingtokeepmyvoiceemotionless.He'sexpectingsome

kindofblowup,butIjustdon'thaveitinme.

“What'swrong?”
“BesidesmorefuckingcorpseslikeHalloweendecor?”
Hestaresatme,tryingtofigureoutwheremyanger'scomingfrom,andwhoit'sreallydirectedat.

“Yeah.”

Igrinlopsidedlyathim,wantingtogetsomekindofreactiontojustifymyown.“Meetthefamily,

fucker.Calder,meetSaralynnWalker.Maidenname.FormermarriednameGreenwich.”Ilaugh,
breathlesswithenergy.“Mom,meetCalder.Myfiance.There.Introductionsdonetoyoursatisfaction?”

Hisbrowsknittogether.Thehandonmyshoulderissupplantedbyasecondone,andhepullsme

towardhimforsomemannerofhug.Iburymyfaceinhisbarestomach,lettinghismuskandheatsoothe
me.

Unsurewhatelsetodo,Ilethimleadmeoutoftheroom.I'mnumb.Stony.Ithardlyfeelsreal.I

knew—Iknewshewasn'teverreallyhealthy,butIalwaysassumedshewasouttheresomewhere,
strivingforsomemannerofelusivehappiness.Theyearsweren'tkindtoher—thatmuchwasplain.Her
armswerecoveredinbruisesandtrackmarks.Hardlyanythinglikethestrong,meatyarmsthatonce
wrestledmeintosomesemblanceofcivility.Butthatwasachangealongtimecoming,Ithink.However
sheendedupthere,herownchoicesbroughther.Justasmychoicesbroughtmetowitnessthemdefiling
her,andothers.

Theonecruelthoughtthatignitesasparkinsideme,Ican'tbringmyselftovoice.Thecutacross

herthroatwasclean.Nohesitationsorattempts.Shedidn'tdiebyherownhand.Andinmymost
vulnerablemoments,I'dalwayshopedthatshemight.Afterall,herincreasingdisconnect,andmaking
himacuckold,thatmust'vebeenagoodlypartofwhymydaddidtakehisownlife.Blaminghermade
moresensethanblaminganyoneelse.

Sheshould'vebeenthere.Sheshould'vebeentheonetornbetweenwitnessinghisfinalmoments

andleavingtheroomtotrytogetanambulancethere.Sheshouldn'thavefoistedallthatshitonherpre-
teendaughter.

Sheshouldn'thavepunishedmeallthoseyears,refusingtobuymoregrownupclothesstyles,

becauseitwouldmeanadmittingthatmysisterwasn'tgonnawearmyhand-me-downs.Ishouldn'thave
spentmyteenageyearshorrifiedbymyperiod,notbecauseIwasashamedofmybody,butbecauseof
howshereactedeverytimesheheardmeunwrapapad,andrealizedIwasn'therlittlegirlanymore.She
should'vebeenthrilledtowatchmegrow,watchmebuildalifeformyself.Notcountingdownthedays
untilshecouldpushmeoutofhers.

Somuchsheshould'vedone.Somuchshenevertriedtodo.SomuchmoreIneverlether.
Thoughourpathsparted,theywerealwaysgonnacrashbacktogetheragain.
Ineverthoughournextmeetingwouldbelikethis.Notwithherfacedowninastranger'slap,

murderedtoprovesomearcanefuckingpointthat'sabstractedtothepointitcan'tbeintendedtobe
understood.NotwiththesameemptinessinhereyesindeaththatIsawtheresooften,inlife.

Ijustneverfuckingthoughtitwouldbelikethis.
Andintheend,those'rethewordsthatbleedthroughmycrackedlipsasIcryintoCalder's

shoulder.

Notlikethis.

Twenty,Calder

MillacrieslongerthanIwould'vethoughtpossible,butshedoesn'ttalk.Unfortunately,withnothingto
keepmymindoffthings,itturnstothoughtsthathonestlyshouldbeshared,ratherthankeptinside.

Maybewearen'tgonnawinthis.Maybeitisworthittooffertheconfession,andaccept

whatevercomesnext.Prison'sgottabebetterthanthis.

Saralynn'sbody'sobviouslylongcold.It'snotlikeworkingwithourcaptorswould'velikelylet

herlive,iftheyhadn'tkilledheralready.Butitwould'vesparedMillahavingtoseeher.Andwhatif
Milla'snext?Whoevertheheadguyis,he'sgottabelosingpatiencewithus.Theconfession'sagamble,
butitmightbetheonlyonewehaveleft.

They'veescalatedthingsalot.Iwonderifthatmeanssomeone'sputtingpressureonthem.Maybe

someonewassniffingtooclose,andisgettingcloseryet,andonlybeingabletofingermeforeverything's
gonnashieldthem.Ifthat'sthecase,thisisgonnagetahelluvalotworsebeforeitgetsbetter.

Milla'scriedherselfintoacoma,headonmylap.Buthereyesareopen,ifhardlyblinking.Where

thehelldowomengettheenergytocrylikethat,anyways?Justthethought'sexhausting.

“Mil?”
Sheturnsreddenedeyestome.
“Ithinkweshoulddoit.Writeadamnconfession.”
Shelooksaway,empty.
“Okay.Therewaspaperinoneoftheotherrooms.I'll—”
Shestopsme.“Youwon't.Iwill.”
“That'snot—”
“That'snotright?Noneofthisis.Butyou'reallIhaveleft.You'reallIhavelefttoprotect.And

I'mgonna.”

“That'snotwhatIwant.Look—we'llsplitthekills50/50.Bothacceptequalblame—”
“I'mnotgonnaletyoudothat.Istartedallthis...it'smygrenadetofallon.”
“But—”
Whensheinterruptsme,there'sanoteofdangerinhervoice.Onethatletsmeknowshe'dbeonly

toohappytoescalatetheargument.“It'smine.”

Maybeshe'llchangehermindlater.Maybeit'stheshockofthemoment,herstillreelingfromher

mother'sdeath.Maybeshe'llrememberthefutureweplannedtogetherandletmesplitoursinssothatat
leastwe'llsufferapproximatelythesame.

ButIcan'ttrustthat.“Okay.Youcanworkonit.Butdoitslowly.We'llonlygivethemupifwe

haven'tgottenfreebythetimeyoufinishthem.”

Shesmiles,butthere'snothingcheerfulorsoftinit.“Whateveryousay.”

***

Ilosetrackofthetimewespendthere;there'snowindows,again.AndI'veyettofigureouthowtogetthe
doorsopen,orbreakthroughanyofthewalls.Theventsarebarelybigenoughtoputmyarmin.There'sa
stashoffoodinoneoftheotherroomswehadn'tmadeitto,sowe'resettledandmostlycomfortable,but
withnothingtodootherthantrytodistractMillafrombleedingherheartontothepage,we'rebothempty.
Thefight'sgoneoutofhereyes,andnotendertouchesoraggressivekissescanbringitback.

Wetaketurnssleeping.Partofit'sinsomnia,buttherestofitisthatit'smorecomfortablethatway.

Fewerquestions.IcanwhisperhowmuchIloveherwithoutwonderingwhethershebelievesme.And
whoevenknowswhatshe'sthinkingwhenshewatchesmesleep?

Icounttime'svaguepassageonthebruisesmarringherskin.Bythetimethelasttracesofyellow

havealmostfaded,I'mbeginningtofearthatmypromise,madeinamomentofconfusion,isgonnahaveto
stand.

SheshutsdowneveryattemptImaketorevisitit.Sheevenrefusestoletmereadherpapers,after

thefirsttimeshenoticesI'mflaggingerrorsinanattempttogethertowastetimeredoingthem.Butshe's
writingeverydetail,obviouslyinthehopesthatourcaptorfindsnoinconsistenciestopunishusfor.

Irememberthefirstfewweeksaftermymom'sdeath.Thenumbnessanddisconnect,andthe

frustrationofbeingtheonlyonefeelingit.Andthissureashellisn'tapropertimeandplaceforhealthy
mourning.

IhatewatchingMillagiveupalittlemoreeachday,takeanotherstepclosertodeath,or

incarceration,whateverthefutureholdsforherwhenwordgetsout.Ihateherforagonizingmoreovera
handfulofbodiesthanovereverythingshepromisedme—it'sbecomeincreasinglyobviousshenever
intendedtoseeitthrough.Neverintendedtogrowoldwithme.Neverintendedfordecadesofbothofus
findingreasonstoneverhavekids,untilnaturemadethatchoiceforus.

Milla'sboundtoherpast,andwhileit'sgivenherherstrength,herferalpower,it'salsogonna

preventherfrombeingabletoacceptanormallife.She'snevergonnafeelsafewithme.She'snever
gonnafeelthatI'maconstant.Andthat'llmakeherholdback,makeherbreakeverypromiseshe'smadeto
me.

Maybeit'sforthebettertheytookmyringfromherfinger.Maybeitmakesiteasiertoseethe

truth.

BeforeImetMilla,Ididn'tknowthekindofloveamanwouldkillfor.Isawthewaytheworld

worked,andplayedmyrole,butIdidn'texistwithpassion.Ijust...was.Andthatapathyfilteredinto
everything.WhenItoldawomanIlovedher,heranswerwas“doyoureally?”Shesawthroughmy
sinceritytothefactthatIwasn'tcapableofthekindofloveshedeserved,andoverandoveragain,with
girlfriendaftergirlfriend,itmorphedintoakindoftoxicinsecurity.IcouldneverconvincethemIcared,
becausetheycouldseethatIhadonlyconvincedmyselfIdidonthesurface.Andthatperpetual
questioning,demandingIprovemyselfbetter,more,protestharder,ittookrootinthegapbetweenmy
consciousdesiretoloveandsubconsciouslackoflove.

Millachangedthat.Shelovedsofiercelythatshegaveherwholebeingtoit.Shebecamethemost

frighteningkindofmonstertoensureotherswouldneverseetheirlovesbrokenasdeeplyasherswere.
Shewagedwarongodstoprotectherlittlesliverofhumanity,suchasitwas.

Sheshowedmehowtoburnwiththatfire.Evenifitonlyevertrulyburnedforher.AndIthrewit

away,notlettingherconvincemetoleave,earlier,beforecircumstancesbroughtushere.Everythingthat
feltsoimportant...learningwhymyfamilyandmentorwantedmedead,wonderingwhethermymom's
deathwasnatural,wantingtodowhatMillacouldn't,andactuallyfixthelivesofthosewho'dbeencaught
inourstruggle...itallshouldhavefallenbythewayside.Thefirsttimeshestartedencouragingmetostep
back,Ishouldhavedemandedshetakethatstepwithme.

ItseemslikeI'mwatchinghersuicideinslowmotion,andIonlyhavemyselftoblame.The

weightofthatguiltisheady,andkeepsmeclingingtoher.

IfightinthelittlestwaysIcan,hidingpagesandgamblingthatshe'llwasteafewhourslooking

forthemratherthanrewritingthemfromscratch.

Butthat'sallIhaveleft.They'vestruckthekillingblowalready,andasshebleedsout,Icanonly

prayI'mnext.ThatIneverhavetowakeupwithouther.

EvenwhenItrytohateher,toresenther,forcontrollingmethiscompletely,Ican't.
BecauseI'velivedwithoutthatfirebefore,andIwon'tdoitagain.

Twenty-one,Milla

Theconfession'swritten,andlaidoutinplainsight.I'mprettysurethey'remonitoringus,andwon'twait
toolongtoretrieveit.Sotonight'sprobablymylastnighttosleepinCalder'sarms.Onewayoranother,
tonightchangeseverything.Something'sgonnahappen.

Ican'tsleepwiththenerves.IcanonlyclingtoCalderandmemorizeeveryslopeandplane,every

moleorscar.I'mnotsureifheknowsIfinished—hisunhappinesswiththeendeavorwassodisruptive
thatpastapoint,itbecameeasiernottotellhimwhereIwasinit.

Unabletorest,Isitup,lettinghimresthisheadonmythigh,insteadofmybreast.Calderstirs

slightly,butadjuststothechange,loopinghisarmundermykneeandstrokingmyinnerthigh.Allofit
withoutwakingup.WhatI'dgivetobeabletosleepthatsoundly.

Thehumofthelightmakesthedriftingdustmoteslookalmostlikelittlefirefliessettlingaround

us.Itmightalmostberomantic,ifIwasn'tpreoccupiedoverwhichawaitsus:prisonordeath.

Eventually,asoftclickheraldsthemomentI'vebeendreading.Ilookuplistlessly,asfootsteps

soundinthehalloutside.Idon'twakeCalder.Noreasontoriskhimmakingthemhurthim.They'vewon.

Familiareyes,theshadeofbarkinwinter,boreintome.Iwavehimtowardthepapers,andtangle

myfingersinCalder'shair.Hisbeardticklesmythigh.

Themanstaresatme,andthenholdsoutapairofhandcuffs.“Putthemon.”
Iraisemyeyebrows.
“There'snowayyoucangethimoffyourselfandattackmebeforeIputabulletinone,orbothof

you.Soputonthehandcuffs.”

Igrudginglyobey,watchingcloselyincasehehasamomentofweaknessIcanseize.Buthis

guardstaysup,andthegunstayspointedatme.Ican'tquitegetthesecondcuffclosed,soIleaveitaround
mywristandholdmyarmsout.Thehandgunjustinchesfrommyface,heleansforwardandclicksthe
cuffsshut.

“There.Nowwecantalk.Seewhatyou'vebeenupto.AssoonasImakesurehestaysasleepa

littlelonger.”

Myhandsclenchtofists,readytofighthimawayfromCalder.
“Relax.Thedrugwon'tlastlongerthanahalfhourorso.Andit'snothingnew.It'sassafeasyou

twocanreallyget,here.”Heinspectsmyface,lookingforanysignofdefianceoraggression.“Theysay
nomanisanisland.Butcomparedtome,you'relittlemorethanaspeckofsandonmybeach.”

“Thenwhygotoallthistroubletomurderus?”
“It'sman'splacetofindpoetryintheworld,eveninkilling.It'swhatseparatesusfromthe

animals.”Hetugsaflaskfromhispocketandoffersittome.

“Excuseme?”
“We'rebeingcivil,aren'twe?Drinkup.”
“Ihaven'teaten,”Idemur,notwantingtoknowwhetherhe'sdruggedtheliquor.
Hetakesagiantswig.“Oh,don'tbeaprude.Drink.”Andthentheflask'sinmycuffedhands,and

heflutterstheguntotellmetoraiseittomylips.

Itakeasmallgulp,wrinklingmynoseatthetasteofthehigh-endscotch.Calderdrinksthesame,

whenhecan.Itmakesmewonderifthere'sasharedconnectionthere,likeCaldergrowingupsmellingit
onhisdadafterhisdadandthisguymet.ButwhenIgettired,getdesperate,mymindlooksfor
connection.It'sthelittlethingsthatholdtheworldtogether;allthat'sleftisformetofigureouthow.

“Youcandobetterthanthat...don'tbeshy.”Hegesturesagain,andIglareathimasItakealarger

gulp.“Fivemoresecondstodrinkasmuchasyoucan.You'regonnaneeditlater.Anddon'tyouwantto
getthisofftoagoodstart?”

Icockmyhead,buttaketheimpliedthreatfortruth.IemptyasmuchoftheflaskasIcanwithout

chokingonit.Ilickmylips,prayingmymouthwillwatertocleartheremainingflavoraway.Mymouth
tasteslikeCalder'sfirstkiss,anditmakeshimsleepingnexttomeseemlikeabetrayal.

“Whoareyou,anyways?”Iask,theliquorbeginningtomakemebold,oratleastgivingmethe

optimismtoactontheassumptionthatwe'regonnabealiveinthemorning.

“OllieSchroeder.”Hewaitsforareaction,butIdon'twanttoofferone.Hemightbethehighest

personwhocouldpossiblybeconnectedtothis,theSchroederfamily'selusiveleader,buthavingthe
confirmationhe'sinvolveddoesn'tmeanmuch.Afterall,weknewithadtobesomeonewithmoneyand
connections,tobeabletocarrythisout,justfromthescaleofit.Really,it'sjustconfirmingahunch.

Hewinksatme,hiseyelidpullingascarinhisbrowlinetaut.“Butyoucancallme'boss'.”
Isnort.“Nothankyou,Ionlycallmen'slave'or'pig.'”
Thatmeritsalaugh.“AndhereIthoughtallthefight'dgoneoutofyou!”
Hetextssomethingintohisphone,andthestairwelldoorclicksopenagain.“Timetogetgoodand

comfortableforstorytime.”

“What?”
Morefootstepsinthehall.Twomeninsteel-toedbootsandutilitarianclothescomeintotheroom,

swoopingtopickmeup.Itrytostrugglefree,thoughthealcohol'sbeginningtomuddlemyreflexes.Still,
IhavetoseeifSchroeder'sgonnashootCalderonthewayout.

“Don'tworryaboutus,honey,”Schroedercallsafterme.“LoverboyandI'llbeupnext.”
Themanholdingmyfeetadjustshisgrip,andthenwe'removingagain,Schroeder'slaughringing

throughthehalls.

Twenty-two

Theliquorseemslikeacrueljoke.Myarmsaresuspendedovermyhead,andIcouldbarelyputany
weightonmyfeetatthebestoftimes.Butadddrunkenswayingtoit,anditbecomesanauseatingand
pain-inducingcycle.Everyswayyanksonmyshoulders,causingpaintotheoneIalreadydislocated.
Eachtime,Icatchmyself,strugglingtostaybalanced,untilIeventuallywobbleagain.

Calder'sonthefloorinfrontofme.Themenwhobroughtmeinwentbackforhim,leavingmein

silence.Havinghimhereismarginallymorecomfortingthanthequietwas,prayingI'dhearthegunshot.
Evenifheisoutcold,there'ssomethingaboutknowinghe'snearthatgivesmealittlemorecourage.

Myfeetareontheseatofahalf-brokenchair.Andmyhandsareattachedtosomemannerofhook

intheceiling,probablyamini-craneformaneuveringcargoaround.Theknowledgethatit'sgonnaget
worsebeforeitgetsbetterisalmostmoredevastatingthanmycurrentdiscomfort.Whoknowshowlong
I'mgonnabeuphere,hunglikeacattlecarcass.Whoknowsifthat'swhathehasplanned,even?Maybe
whenwe'redonetalking,he'sgonnaslitmythroatlikemymother'swas,andleavemehereforwhen
Calderwakesup.

Schroederpullsupachair,andIwinceatthesoundofmetalonmetal.“It'sapleasureseeingyou

again,Cammie.”

Ibitemylip,knowinghe'sjusttryingtogetmeangryatthename.Anylegalpaperworkhe'dfound

onmewouldhavementionedthatIgoby“Milla”.Hejustwantsmetobeonedge.

“Okay,that'sfine.Icantalkforthebothofus.It'sallveryimpressive,youknow.Iswoopyouup,

thinkingit'llrattlehimsomuchworsewhentheknife'stohispreciouslittlesnowflake'sthroat.Thinkof
thepouting.Thetrembling.Andinstead,whatdoIfind?Afeistylittletigerwhodrawsjustasmuchblood
ashedoes.Whoshootsfirstanddoesn'tlookback.”

Hesnorts.“I'lltellya.I'mgonnahaveafewpeoplepissedatmewhenIgetback—thiswas

supposedtobeamilkruntotoughenupsomeofthenewrecruits.Showingthemhowtomakethemeans
workfortheend.Andinstead,I'mgonnahavetocallupthreesetsofparents,who'veworkedwithmefor
decades,andtellthemthatjuniorjustcouldn'thackit.

“Ifthisthingwasn'tsourgent,I'dbringthebothofyouintothefold.Lordknowswecouldusethe

help.Buthe'stoorecognizable.You'reabitmoreundertheradar,ifyouchangedyournameanddyed
yourhair.Wecanendthisrightnow.Cometoworkforme,andI'llprotectyou.You'llbeabletoshutthis
shitout—”

Iburstoutlaughing,andonlythepanginmyribstopsmefromlaughingmore.“Ifyou'rereally

fuckingserious,whatmakesyouthinkI'dtakeyouseriouslywhenyouhavemehere—”Ijerkmychin
expressivelyatmystrainedbody.

“Now,now,don'ttakethattonewithme.We'refamily,afterall.”
Screwthepain,I'mlaughingagain.Giddyguffawsthatmakemythroatstingworsethanthe

alcohol,andthatthreatentoknockmeoffmyfeet.Buthe'snotlaughingwithme.Hisfaceiscompletely
straight.Everysolemninchofhim,fromhisslicked-backhairtohispressedshirt,presentsaparticular
impression.Andit'sdifferent.Theothernight,heworeat-shirtunderbodyarmor.Impromptu.Now,
however,it'sashow.Nobodyarmor,sincethatimplieswecanhurthim.Formalclothes,businessas
usual.

“Oh?Youdidn'tknowthat?Mylatewifeneverstoppedtalkingabouthereldest,whenwemet.I

figuredshe'dhavebeensimilarlyopen-mouthedaboutme.”Hegrins,enjoyingmydiscomfort.ButIcan't
seeanyindicationhe'slying.“Ifiguredyoumustknow,tobebackingtheRoanekidtearingapartmy
ranks.Itmighthaveevenbeenadamnedeffectivepowergrab,too.Areturntothegoodol'dayswhen
yourdadwashandlingtheday-to-day,beforeanyofthisbullshit.”

Thatstealsthebreathfrommylungs.“Ihavenomotherfuckingcluewhatyou'retalkingabout,but

youseemtobelieveit,soI'mcuriouswhatotherconspiracytheoriesyoubelieve,too.Iheardarealgreat
oneaboutJFK'sassassinationthatmightbe—”

Hereachesintohispocketforhiswallet.Anaffectionatesmiledriftsacrosshisfaceashefindsa

smallsquareofpaper,andholdsitinfrontofme.Mymomandhim,kissing,withtwosmallchildren
clingingtotheirknees.

Ishiver.Soshedidgetthatfreshstartshewanted.
“Youbelievemenow?Cammie,mygirl,you'reatreasure.Theperfectspyandkiller.Youcould

bemyeyesandmyears,mysecretweapon.Getamarriageonpaper,toseeyouadmittedtothegirls'club
—”

“Usually,whenpeoplejokeabouttradinguptothenewer,youngermodel,they'rejustbeingmildly

creepy.Notliterallysuggestingthatmother,daughter,itmakesnodifference.Areyoulisteningto
yourself?”

“Well,let'slookatyouroptions.Icouldtakemyknife—”Hepullsonefromhisboot,anasty,

serrated-lookingmotherfucker.“Andgutyouchintocookie.”Ashespeaks,hecutsintomyshirt,pulling
theknifethroughthefabricwithease.Coldairticklesmybreasts,makingmeshiver.

“Congratulations.Youjustmanagedtobecomeevenmoreofacreeper.WanttosuggestIlooklike

yourmother,goforthetrifecta?”

Oneofthemennearthedoorstiflesasmile.Schroederfinishescuttingmyshirtoffme,exposing

mybacktothenippyroom,aswell.

IwishtohellIcouldstoptheblushrisingtomycheeks,athavingtheseassholes'eyestracingmy

nakedbody.“Soyougonnadoit?Ordoyouneedthelittlebluepilltogetyourdicksubstitutehard?”
Bettertodetractattentionfrommyownweakness.

Helaughs.“Hell,no,babygirl.I'llofferyouonelastchancetokillyourboytoy,andwalkaway

fromthis.”

“Anddidyoukillher,too?”
“Thatwasdifferent,Cammie,dear.Shefoundoutweweregoingafteryou.There'snowaywe

couldhavekeptheraliveafterthat.Shewasalreadyplanningtogotothecops.”

Myeyeswiden,atthethoughtthatSaralynntriedtogiveupthehappyendingshefoughtsohard

for,thatshediedforme.Evenasthetearsforminmyeyes,newresolvestrengthensinme.Iwon'tlether
deathbemeaningless.CalderandIwillsurvivethis,totakeourowedpoundofSchroeder'ssaggyflesh.

“Oh,don'tlooklikethat.Wehadagoodrunofit.Butsomepeople,theirheart'sneverreally

whereyouthinkitis.”Aglintofsteelinhiseyes—onethattellsmethatwhatevergamehe'stalking,it
trulyaffectedhimtokillher.“Youstayloyal,you'vegotnothingtoworryabout.”

Ispitonhim,nottrustingmybalancetoletmetrytokickhim.Anddefinitelynotwantingtorisk

slicingmylegopenonhispigsticker.

“Why'mInotsurprised?”HeshakeshisheadasthoughIjustusedthewrongforkatadinnerparty

infrontofguests.There'ssomethingproprietarytothedisappointment,andthatonlymakesmewantto
fuckhimupworse.“Guessit'sTruthorDaretime.”Hegesturesatthemennearthedoor,andtheytroop
out,oneofthemglancingbehindhimforonelastleeratmyskin.Ishapemyhandstothefingerinthe
cuffs,justforhim.

Schroedersitsacrossfrommewithmysheafofpapers,andbeginsreadingaloud.Ifocuspastthe

soundofhisvoice,lettingthewordsrolloffme.Idon'twanttogivehimasinglereactionmorethanI
haveto.Ishouldn'tbesurprisedthatthistreatment'sbroughtoutmycontraryside.

Theworldswaysaroundme—didheputsomethingelseintheflask?No,it'sprobablyjust

alcoholonanemptystomach,insidesomeonewhodoesn'tdrinkregularly.I'veusuallygotadecentlyhigh
tolerance,butI'vealsolostweight,andusuallyeatwithit.

MythoughtprocessisstoppedbySchroeder'sfistinmystomach.Inearlythrowuptheliquorall

overhim.Butthatwouldonlymakeitworse.Ibarelymanagetoswallowbackbile,andraisemy
eyebrows.Iwon'trisetothebait.Iwon'tmakenoise,orgivehimanysatisfactionfromhurtingme.

“Goddamnit.Itoldyoucuntstobehonest.ItoldyouI'dknowifyoulied.”
Hepunchesmeagain,inthefacethistime,andIdon'tbotherturningmyheadtospittheblood

away.It'salmostsatisfyingleavingthatstainonhispaleshirt.Herollshiseyes.

ThedefiancealsocoversupthereactionIdon'tdareriskhimseeing...Idon'thavethefaintest

ideawhathe'stalkingabout.Ihadn'tintendedtohavetoredotheconfession—Ididn'tleaveoffany
mutilations,oranydeaths,especiallyfortheunderlingswepickedoff.Soifit'sstillnotright,they're
lookingforsomethingelse.AndCalder'llneedtoknowthat,ifhe'sgonnahavetowritehisowntell-all
afterSchroederkillsme.

“Youthinkyou'regonnawearmedown,babygirl?”
Ishrug,tryingtogripthechainbetweenthecuffssoIcanatleasttakesomeengagemyshoulders

toreducetheache.

He'sinspectingthatknife,plainlywaitingonthatanswer,andreadyingforthemomenthefeels

he'swaitedlongenoughforone.Ifthetimefortalking'sdone,thenit'sthetimeforpain.Itrytofocuson
thatpicture.FocusonthefactthatMomwasatleastsomewhathappybeforeshewent.ThatatleastIcan
saythesame.

“Youknowhe'sjustfuckingyouforthehellofit,right?Youthinkyouknowhim?Whathe's

capableof?”Hedragstheknifeagainstthecurveofmyshoulder,sodelicatelyitdoesn'tdrawblood.Itry
nottoswallowwiththepointagainstmythroat.“He'snotworthyou,babygirl.”

Istomphard,puttingasmuchiceintomytoneasIcanmuster.“Iknowexactlywhathe'scapable

of.WhydoyouthinkI'mokaywiththeideathathemightbetheonetolive,ifyourlittlegameplaysout
thewayyouwant?”

“Ifyou'resure.I'mchangingthegame.Youbothdie,anhourfromnow,unlessyourwhiteknight

takestengoodchunksoutofyou.Seeifthatdrivesthelessonhome.Youthinkthisissomerahrah
teambuildingthing—let'sseeifyoufeelthatwayonceyou'veseenwhathe'lldotosavehimself.There's
peroxideandbandagesthere.Andthetoysarepluggedin,heating.We'vegoteyesonyou,sodon'tcome
downfromthere.Unlessyou'reupthere,oncamera,withthewoundsvisible,I'mgonnashootfirst,
doublechecklater.”

Hedrawsaneedle.“It'sastimulant,towakehimup.Neveryoufear,babygirl.I'mnotgonnabe

theonetoscarthatprettyskintoday.”

Hishandstraceapathoverthescarsonmystomach,andlegs.Ibitebackrevulsiontotaunthim.

“Eh,wouldn'tbethefirsttime.”

“Wellthenremindhim—ifI'mnotsatisfied,iftheyaren'tnastyenough,I'mjustgonnashootyou

bothanyways.Gobigorgohome,littlegirl.”

“Lastchancetogetoutunscathed.”
KnowingSchroeder'sintentions,Ihavenothingtolose.Ikickoutwithbothfeet,lettingmy

shoulderstakemyweight.Hisgroin'swarmagainstmytoes,andhestumblesback,bentoverdoublein
pain.IspendafewsecondsflailingbeforeImanagetogetonefoot,thentheother,backonmychair.The
noiserousesthemenoutside,andoneofthempeeksbackin.Justtoaddinsulttoliteralinjury,Icalloutto
theotherguys.“Hey—didyouknowyourboss'sballsaresmallerthanmyclit?D'youthinktheyjustnever
droppedor—”

Schroederlaughs,hisvoicestillcrackedwithpain.“I'mgonnaenjoywatchingthis,babygirl.

Likeyourdadalwayssaid—revengeisadishbestservedcold,butit'sfuckingdeliciouseitherway.I'm
gonnaenjoywatchingyoubleedtodeath.Nomatterwhathappenshereonout,nomatterwhatpretty-boy
does,orhowsweetlyhesingsonthatconfession,youain'tleavingherealive.”

HeinsertstheneedleintoCalder'sneck,andleaves.Iheraldhisdeparture—andCalder's

awakening—withalongstringofcurses.

Twenty-three,Calder

Iopenmyeyestothenow-familiaruncertaintyofafuzzy,strangenewroom.Theworldaroundmeis
blurry,butthelighting'sdifferent.I'mnotwhereIfellasleep.AndIcan'tfeelMilla'sbodyagainstmine.I
stumbletomyfeet,cursingatmyeyestofuckingfocus.

Somehow,thescenethatawaitsmeisbothbetterandworsethanIcouldhaveanticipated.Milla's

there,saggingandstrugglingtokeepherfeetonachaircushiondespitethechainholdingherarmsabove
herhead.Butshe'suntouched.Naked,butuntouched.Isweartogod,ifthey—

“Calder,they—”
“Birdie?”Idon'twaitforaresponsebeforewrappingmyarmsaroundher.“Areyouokay?Letme

helpyougetdown.”

“No,Calder.Listen.”
Ikisseveryinchofher.Whateveritis,itcan'tbetoobad,sinceshe'sunharmed.Naked,but

unharmed.

Themoremymindreturnstoherbareskin,themoreitbothersme.Thoseassholesdon'tdeserve

toseethemarksthey'veputonus,andtheycertainlydon'tdeservetoknowhowbeautifulsheis,skin-to-
skin.Thoseperfectbreasts,theslopeofherhips,thelittlebitofsoftnessonherstomach...

“—Wehaveanhour.Youneedtotortureme.Idon'tcarewhatyoudo,butyoucan'tholdback.

Otherwise,they'llkillyou.”Shit.She'sbeentalkingthewholetime.

“What'reyoutalkingabout?”
“ItalkedtoSchroeder.Theconfessiondidn'twork—hewantsmorethanwhatIhad.Andas

punishment,they'regonnashootusbothinanhour,unlessyou'vehurtmeenoughtojustifyhimleavingyou
alive.”

Shedoesn'tsayus.“Whynot'us'?WhatdoyouknowthatIdon't?Schroeder?OllieSchroeder?

Themanhimself?”

“Yeah.It'salongstory.Ipissedhimoff.Itwasworthit,buthe'smadeitquiteclearthatI'mnot

gettingoutofthisalive.Idon'tknowifthey'regonnashootmewhenthathourends,orletmestruggleuntil
youeitherdieorbecometherightkindofpatsy.Eitherway,asofnow,youneedtoconsidermeoutofthe
picture.Itdoesn'tmatterwhatyoudotomeanyways,becausethereisnoalternativesolution.”

Shejerksherchintowardacrateatthefarendoftheroom.“Toolsinthere,andpluggedintothe

wall.Firstaidstufftoo.Itrustyou.”

Ican'tquitebringmyselftoleave,andshecan'tquitebringherselftourgemeto.Finally,Imanage

toputonefootinfrontoftheother,onlytofindoneofhersstretchedtoholdmeback.Iturnbacktoher
andmeethereyes.Icoulddrowninthem,sobrightandintense.

“Iloveyou,Calder.Goon.”
Theboxissurprisinglyheavy.Icarryitbacktoher,andopenit.Anarrayofknives,brass

knuckles,afuckingbaseballbat,andanelectricbrand.

“Tengoodchunks,”shesays,hervoicecracking.“Don'tthinkaboutit,justdoit.”
Itwouldbeeasytoactonautopilot,toletthenumbnessandhervoicecarrymethrough.ButIcan't

quitegivein.“There'sgottabesomeotherway—Ican'tfuckingdoit,birdie.”

“Sureyoucan.YouknowIcantakethepain.Youcandoit.”
Thebrand'sheavyinmyhand.Itwouldbesoeasytodropit,andpepperherfleshwithkissesand

touches,celebratethatthelight'sreturnedtohereyes.“Howdoyouknowhe's—”

“Serious?Hekilledhiswifeforthis.He'snotgonnagiveupjustbecauselove'soverwhelming

strengthwinsoutorsomebullshit.Sofromthismomenton,I'mdeadtoyou.I'macorpseyouneed
somethingfrom.Getwhatyouneed.”

Timecomestoastandstillasshepleadswithme.ImagesplayoutinmyheadofwhatIcoulddoto

her—woulddotoothers—witheachofthetoolstheyprovided.Buttryingtoreplacethatreadyenemy
withher,hangingandhelpless...Imagininghowshe'dscreamorcry.Howshe'dstrugglewhenpain
overwhelmedintention,leavingonlyinstinct...

Ifshe'sgonnadiehere,I'mgonnadiewithher.I'mdoneplayingalongwiththisfuckingcharade.
Thebrandloosensinmyfingers,andItightenmygripsothatIcantossittotheside.Butbefore

I'vedonemorethanheftit,she'sthrownherselfforward,herweightcarryingherhipintoitandherfeet
droppingfreeofthechair.

Sheshrieks,anoisethattearsmyheartintwoandpissesacidonthepieces.Icanbarelyhearher

fleshsizzlingoverthecry.

AndthebrandfallsfrommyhandasIguideherlegsaroundmyrib,andstabilizehersoshecan

putherfeetdown.Herburnedhippressesagainstmychest,thefleshhotandangry.Andherbreasts
heavingagainstmyface,suchperfectionandcomfort,marringwithsuchpain...Howverybadlyshewants
metolive,evenifIcan'tbringmyselftotakethatopportunity.It'spleasureandconfusioninonedesperate
touch.

Icatchhertear-streakedeyes,andsomethingpassesbetweenus.Somemutanturgencyand

acceptance.She'sokaywiththis.

What'sdoneisdone.AllIcandoistrytoloveherinthetimeshe'sgotleft.
Maybemyresolvewillfadewhenit'sputtothetest.OrmaybeI'lljustsaveupeveryheartrending

screamtogivebacktothemlater.

ThelongerIcankeepusalive,thebetterthechancesofthathappening.
Iwithdrawfromher,holdingherhipssteady.AndthenIbendandpickupthebrand.Shenodsat

me,andIplungeitintoherside.

Twenty-four,Milla

Painshort-circuitsmybrainasmysideburns.Thesmellofmyownsingedfleshbitesintomynose,andI
can'trestrainthecough.Itknocksmebackwards,mykneesinstinctivelycominguptowardmychest,since
mychestcan'thunchdown.IcollidewithCalder'sstomachandfalloffthechairagain,yellingthroughthe
worstoftheagony.

Onedown.
Caldercatchesmeandagain,bracesmeagainsthimself,lendingmeabitofhisstrength.“Doesit

lookdeep?”Iask,needingtoknowwhetherthepaininmyside'sactuallyanindicationoftheseverityof
theinjury.

“Reasonably,”heoffers,pullingmyhipsbackjustfarenoughtolook.“Ithinkyou'llbeokay,

though.Idon'tthinkIcandothatagain.”

“Sureyoucan.Otherside,orjustnearby?Whatdoyouthink?”
Hestaresatme,hispaleeyeshaunted.“Isthisreallywhatyouwant,birdie?”There'sapromise

andaplea.Hecouldn'tcarelessaboutwhetherwedieholdingeachother,nofreshwoundsbetweenus
butforthebulletholesandtheoneburn.

“Yes.”IputallthestrengthinthewordsIcanmuster,andtrytoanchormyselfmoresteadilyon

thechair.“Goagain.”

Hisfingerstightenaroundthebrand.“Becareful,butwrapyourlegsaroundme.Idon'twantyou

togoflyingagain.”

Hishandundermyasssteadiesme,andIleanback,togivehimasmuchspacetoworkas

possible.Hesinksthebrandintomychestnearmyshoulder,andbeforethesubconsciousbuckhas
finishedarchingmyback,hislipsareonmybreast,distractingmefromthepainwithheatandlove.My
handsclencharoundthehandcuffchain,andmetalgritsagainstitself.

Twodown.
Despitethefiresonmyskin,scorchingclearthroughtothemusclebeneath,myattention'swholly

consumedbyhislips,andhisneedtonothearmedefinedbypainhe'scausing.“Thathurtless,”Isayto
comforthim.It'snotveryconvincingthough;myvoiceismostlybreath.

“Liar,”Caldersayswithachuckle,tippinghischinupandstandingastallashecantocatchmy

lipswithhis.

“Justgetonwithit.OrdoIhavetogetyoumadatme?I'vealreadykickedonemanintheballs

tonight...”

“You'resostrong,”hemurmurs,almostreverently.Again,heheftsthebrand,andIbracemyself

fortheshatteringpain.“I'msosorry,birdie.”Thebrandpressesintomysidenotfarfromthefirstone,but
eitherI'mgettingnumbtoit,oritslostsomeofitsheat.Webothglancedownwhenheyanksitaway,and
indeed,themark'sred,buthardlymorethanthat.

“Thatain'tgonnacutit.”
“Areyou—”
I'veneverbeenmoresureofanything.“I'mnottakinganychances.Thatdoesn'tcount.Do

somethingelse.”

“Ifyou'resure.”
Heglancesathisgoodiebag,nodoubtwonderingwhichistheleasttraumaticforthebothofus.

Finally,heletsmegoandbendstoreachintothebox.Obviously,hesettledonthebrassknucklesinhis
handwhenhestraightens.Maybeit'llbesimilartoourtrainingandsparring,atleastintheory.Tomakeit
easieronhim,Itrytopreyonhisinstincts,theonlywayIcanthinkto.Ikickhimawayfromme,hard.

Thatarouseshisfight,certainly,thoughhe'sstillholdingback.Ikickoutagain,comingclosetohis

head,andreflexively,heblocksthekickandslamshismetal-cladfistintomychest.Oldbruisesspringto
life,andtheairleavesmylungs.ButI'mnotsureifit'sgonnaleaveenoughofamark.SoIpushhim
harder.“Comeon,fucker.Ihaven'thitlikethatsinceIwastwelve.”

Thenexttime,heaimsupwardenoughtoclipmychin.Theforceslamsmyteethtogetherdespite

mylipbetweenthem,andbloodbeginstotrickledownmychin.“That'sbetter.”

“Christ,isthiswhatit'slikewhenyousparwithme?IfeellikeI'mtryingtoaimatAndrethe

Giant.Andnotjustbecausehe'stheotherpersonIdon'teverthinkIcouldbeartohit.Hejustseemsso
nice—”

There'saborderlinehystericalqualitytoCalder'srambling;he'sfightingtokilltime,toputoff

whathastohappennext.“Stopit.Justfuckinghurtme.”Myshouldersache—Ican'tkeepkickingoutlike
that,andwrenchingthemaround.

Calderleansclose,nuzzlesbetweenmybreasts.“It'snotright.Youshouldbefighting.Andthe

scars—”

“Stopthinkingaboutit,anddoit.”
Hepicksupthesmallestknifeinthecontainer.“Maybeit'llbeeasierifit'soverfast.”
“Whateverworksforyou.”Idon'tdarereiteratethatIalreadyknowwherethisends,andthat

what'seasiestformeisirrelevant.Heneedstolivelongerthanthishour.

Heteststheknife'sedge,thensanitizesit.
“You'redrawingthisout,andit'sexcruciating.Fortheloveoffuck,justgetitoverwithfast.

What'sgonnamakethathappen?”

Somethingcalculatingflitsacrosshisfeatures.“Younottalking,forone.Hearingyoumakesit

harder.”

“Sopunishmeformakingnoise.”IfIjustsitherewaitingforhim,he'sgoingtooverthinkit.He's

gonnapersuadehimselftherehastobesomeotherway,andsomedimpartofmethatcriesforself-
preservationisgonnalisten.Andthenwe'rebothlost.

“Shh,”heinsists,andasecondlatercoldmetalpuncturesmythigh.Iyell,andfighttostaystill,

lestIthrashandripitout.Hepullsthebladeoutcarefully,lookingatthewound.Thelasttimehestabbed
me,heheldmeafter,overcomewithremorse.Butwebothknowthere'snoneedforitnow.It'sallabout
survival.

Threedown.
Ithurtstoputweightonit,withmymusclesstrainingtotenseanduntensewitheverybalance

adjustment.Caldernoticesmystruggle,andguidesmylegstohiswaist.IknowI'mcryingfromthepain,
butincreasingly,I'moutofbody.Myfreckledskinhardlylookslikemine.Evenuntouched,I'malready
beginningtodivorcemyselffromit,todeviseareasofidentityandpsychewherepainwon'ttouchme.

Inthatworld,there'sonlyCalder,hiseyeshoodedwithgriefandfrustration,deadlyandquiet.

Eachwoundbecomesachessmove—what'slikelytolooktheflashiestforSchroeder.Underhisgaze,my
bodybecomesacanvasandabattlefield,betweenhisdreamsforourfuture,andSchroeder's
manipulations.Exactlywhatitneedstobe.

Calderturnsaroundandsitsinmychair,mylegspullingloosefromhim.Hedropswhateverhe

washoldingonthearmresttohelpsteadyme.Irestmyfeetonhisthighs,thatwarm,platoniccontacta
reminderofbettertimes,andalsothekeytomorestability.

Hishandstrokesthetopofmyfoot,andcomesawaywetwithblood.Icanalmostignorethatit's

minewhenheslidesitupmycalf,nodoubtevaluatingwheretomakethenextcut.Instead,heleans
forward,kissingtheinsideofmythighandworkinghiswayupwards.

Despitetheacheandthedullthrobbinginmythigh,thattouchreleasesme,guidingmetoearth.
Igaspandmoan,nolongerconcernedwiththepain,andnolongerrunningfromeach

compartmentalizedaspectoftheattackhammeringmybodyinitsowntime.Theinitialprickand

puncture,followedbythedullpunchwhenhilthitsskin.

Fourdown.
Ilingerinaworldbetweenlifeanddeath,painandpleasure,eachsensationevaluatedonlyby

reaction.

Itrusthim.Itrusthimwithmylife.Itrusthimtomakethebadworthwhile.Itrusthimtocarvehis

nameintomyflesh,andstitchhishandiworkupwhenhe'sdone.

Mybody'sbreaking,butsolongasI'minhishands,it'sstillmine.

Twenty-five,Calder

LookingupatMilla,seeingherjawtenseandrelease,reactionssofamiliarthatmybodyrespondsbefore
myminddoes...it'seasytoforgetwhatwe'redoing.Certainlyitseasierthanwhenherfacewasscrewed
upwithpainandstubbornness.Lookingateachbloodycurve,andherfacerelaxedandopen,notraceof
fearordistaste...itmakesiteasiertoseeonlyherstrength.

Herblood'stangyonmylipsandtongue,butherskin'ssmooth.Andit'snotthefirsttimeI've

tastedherblood.Mycockhardensagainstmywishes,justrememberinghowthetasteofherarousal
blendedwithit.Somehow,thesaltdrewoutthesweet,eachtastevibrantasambrosiaasshewrithed
againstme.

Mychin'scoveredinherblood,butwhenshelooksatme,there'snohorrororresentment.Just

somethingplacid,andaccepting.Herbloodylip'sdrippedontoherchest,aslowtraildevelopingalong
theglobeofherleftbreast,asthougheventheblood'sdrawntome.Thestarkcolorstandsoutagainsther
skin,almosttheexactshadeasmyfavoritelipstickforher.

Iloveher,wanttoconsumehereverywayIknowhow.Herweightonmythighsshiftsasshe

twistsoneofherlegs,invitingmecloser.Inuzzlehersoftcurls,andnipherinnerthigh.Millagasps,
softly,herhipsarchingintome.Theinappropriatenessofthemomentaddsheattoit;ifthismightbethe
lasttimeI'lltasteher,I'mgonnagorgeonituntilmychin'scoatedwithher.

Icanhardlyreachher;everyinchofmepullstaut,strainingtoreachherbudlikeasunflower

turningtowardthesun.Myhandcupsherass,pressingherhipsintomeharder.

Hertoescurl,clutchingatmylegs,strainingtoremembertheirpurposebeforeshelosesher

balance.Loseshercontrol.

Myworldnarrowstohergasps,hermoanwhenIslidefirstonefinger,thentwo,intohertight

pussy.Iflickmytongueacrossherclitharder,faster,matchingmyfingers'timeasIslidetheminandout,
hooktheminsideher.Hercuntclutchesatmyfingersasthoughbeggingmenottopulloutwithevery
motion.Andherthighmusclestightenoneithersideofmyface,assheadjustsandopensherlegswider
forme.

Ilovehowsheresponds.Hownoteventhepaincannumbthepleasure.
Oneofherfeetslidesoffmyleg,nearlyjerkingherhipsawayfrommymouth.Iyankmyhandout

ofherbeforeoneofusgetshurt,andcatchherleg,loopitaroundmyshoulder.Idon'twanttomiss
anothersecondofher.Iguidethesecondtomyshoulder,scootingforwardintheseattominimizethe
distancebetweenusandtakeherweightontomyself.Thisclose,there'snothingleftbuthertasteandher
softfleshagainstmycheeks.Herlegsshiftagainstmyshoulders,aheadiersignofherneedthanevenher
desperatemoans.

Still,shecan'tletgo.Notknowingwhat'saheadofus.“You'redistracted.Wecan'thavemuchtime

left.Sixmore—”

Ishushherwithouttakingmymouthaway,andthenoisevibratesthroughher,makingherloseher

trainofthought.Shedoesn'tprotestagain.

Butherwordsburrowthroughmymindlikemaggots,preventingmefromenjoyingwhatmight

potentiallybeourlastchancetopleasureeachother.Idon'twanttogiveupevenasecond,butIpromised
herIwouldseethisthrough.

Myhandcreepstotheknifeonthearmrest,findingthemostsecuregrip.Isuckoneofherlabia

intomymouthandstrokemytonguealongit,remindingherhowmuchshelovesthewaymytongue
caressesherclit.It'samotionthathardlyeverfailstogetherhandsinmyhair,nailsdiggingintomyscalp
asshewarsbetweenwhethertoenjoyitorguidemebacktoherachingclit.And,ofcourse,Irarelyever
listentowhichevershedecides,untilshesaysit.Justtoseeherbeautifullipsshapethosefilthywords,

layherplainbeforeme,moreexposedthaninnudity.

Thosewords'dbeallshehasnow,withherhandschained.
Idon'tmakeherbeg.Isplaymyhandacrossherasstoholdheragainstme,andsetupafast

rhythmflutteringmytongueagainstherclit,teasingituntilitthrobs.Theblade'shilt'swarminmyhands
asIraiseittoherstomach,andsliceacross.

Herbodybuckles,theinitialarchintomytonguepressingherfleshharderintotheblade.Andthen

there'sanewstreamofbloodcascadingdownher,andontome.Throughtheknife,Ifeelherstomach
musclesflexasthepainbitesintoher.AndIsuckherharder,andclawherhipswithmyotherhand's
nails,toremindherthatnotallpainisbad.

Shecomeshard,herlegswrappedaroundmyneckasthoughshemightchokemefromtheforceof

it.Herthighsmufflehercries,butthey'restillloudenoughthatitcan'tkillthemcompletely.

Fivedown.
Needingtoseeher,andmyshouldersachingfromthestrain,Iunclaspherlegsfrommyneck,

placingherfeetbackonmyknees,andleanback,surveyingmyhandiwork.

Herlegsaretremblingundermyhands,buteveryinchofherisatoncebattered,andtriumphant.

Thecut'snottoodeep,thoughit'scertainlybleedingafairamount,andswellingunhappily.Herchest
heaves,thebeadsofbloodatthebottomofherbreastjitteringfromthemotionofit.

“I'vechangedmymind,”shesays,hervoicefirmandharsh.
“What?”
“Fucktheotherfivewounds.Justfuckmenow.Liveordie,justfuckmenow.”
“Gladly.”
Istandandoblige.

Twenty-six,Milla

Calder'shandsbiteintomywaist,inspiringstingsfromtheburns,andanoddtuggingsensationfromthe
longslashacrossmystomach,asitsedgespart.Theeffect'smildlynauseating,unlessIfocusonhim,
risingfromhischairtowrapmylegsaroundhiswaist,andshovehispantsoff.Icanhardlylookatthe
amountofbloodonhim.IthinkImightbewoozy.

Iloosenmylegssohecansettlemeloweronhiships,thetipofhishardlengthslidingagainstmy

slickentrance.“Please,”Iwhisper,addictedtothewayheplaysmybody,turningeventhepaininto
simplyanothervehicleforpleasure.

Again,heslidesagainstme,hiscockredandslipperywithamixofbloodandwetness.Igaspas

hebrushesalongmyclit,stillsensitivefromhistongue.Theroughnessandtensioninit,ourbodiesso
closetojoiningbutnotquite,it'snearlyenoughtosendmeovertheedgeagain.Iarchcloser,damnednear
humpinghiminmydesperationtofeelhim.

“Shhh,”Calderwhispers,hisarmswrappingaroundmetightly,smashingmeagainsthishard

chest.Hiscockbetweenus,andmyachingbody,it'sanoverwhelmingdininmymindthatmakesit
impossibletofeelanythingbuthim.Notthecuffscuttingintomyhands,ortheroomtemperature.

Hislipsfindmine,andhistongueblazesatrailintomymouth,assaultingmewithataste

unnaturallymetallicandriveting,somehowtheessenceoflife,sex,anddeath.Helplesstoit,Itightenmy
legs,tryingtotellhimeverythingIneedwithmorethanwords.

Hishandcreepsbetweenus,catchingontheedgeofthecut,andIwince.Butasecondlater,the

thought'sgonefrommymindashepushesintomyentrance,easinghimselfinwithacarethatbeliesthe
intensityofthemoment.

Hisgriponmegoesslack,andIleanback,tochangetheangletotakehimdeeper,andalsosee

whereIendandhebegins,myfrecklesblendingtohistan,allunderaredcurtain.

“Please,”Ipleadagain,andthat'sallthepermissionheneeds.Hedrivesintometothehilt,one

handonmyhipsandtheotheronmyshoulder.Myarmsyankintheirsocketsfromtheforceofit,buteven
thatsorenesshasaplaceinamplifyingthesheerjoyofhiminsideme,theaddictiverightnessoflifeand
deathinthesameterrifyingmoments.

HisnailsbiteintomyshoulderandIarchharder,tensingmyarmstotrytoeasethepressureonmy

arms.Itmakestheskinatthebaseofhiscockslideagainstmyclit,themotionunnaturallyfluidwithevery
bitofslicknesscoatingus.Herisesontiptoe,thechangeinbalanceashethrustsputtingsomeofhis
weightontomyarms,aswell,andIlethimpullmeapart,bodyandsoul.Hiscockfillsmewithseed,and
hiswhisperedwordsfillmewithhope.I'mreborninbloodandsemen,everyinchofmemarkedbyhim,
fromthescars,tothetinglyfeelingdriftingacrossmyskinduringtheaftershocks.

Hisice-blueeyes,thatIoncethoughttobecoldandinhumane,areadeeplyimmersiveheatthat

burnsthedoubtoutofme.Thingswon'tendhere.I'mnotgonnadie.Hewon'tletme.

HepullsmylegsapartandsteadiesmeuntilI'mbackonthechair.Andthenhewrapshisarms

aroundme,buryinghisfaceinmybreasts,andinasharedconnectionthatIknownotevenSchroeder's
gonnabeabletokill.

***

“Here.Letmerinseyouoff.Wemighthavetimetobandageyoubefore...”Hedoesn'tfinishthesentence.

“Sure,”Ianswer,thoughI'dratherbetalkingaboutwhatnext.Howweneedtobegetawaybefore

Schroeder'smenarebacktokillus.

Hebendstopickupawaterbottlefromthebox,andapieceofgauze.Buthehasn'tfinished

wettingitwhenthedooropens,andmenbeginpushingintotheroom.Thistime,there'sthreeofthem.
Theyanticipateafight,andthesteelylooksontheirfacesareatestamentthattheywon'tholdback,once
theordercomesdown.

Schroedercomesinlast.Helooksatme,andatCalder,bothofusencrustedwithgoreandburning

withhate.Andhepointsthegunatme.Myheartraces,andIstickmytongueathim.I'mnotgonnagive
himanyweakness—andwhyshouldI?Whateverhappens,it'safatewe'vechosen.

CalderfliesforwardwithaspeedIdidn'tknowhehad,knockingthegunoutofthewayand

slammingSchroederbackwardsintothefloor.Theothersturntolookathim,peggingmeasanon-threat,
notwhentheyneedtofigureoutanokayshotthatwon'tendangertheirboss,oreachother.

Inthatmoment,there'snothoughtofpainordeath.SimplyofaneedtohelpCalder.Ikickoffthe

chair,andtensemypain-riddenabdomentokeepmymomentum.Iswingonce,twice,andthenmyhipsare
highenoughthatmyfeetcancatchthechainattachedtothehookI'mdanglingfrom.Upsidedown,Iclutch
atthechainwithmytoes,tryingtogettheweightoffmyhandsenoughtopullthecuffsoffthehook.The
chainslidesbetweenmytoes,anexcruciatinglypainfulfeelingwithmyentirebody'sweightpullingonit,
andIyellasthetensiononthehandcuffloosens,andIjerkittowardsthehook'spoint.

Itslidesofftheedge,andthenthere'sairundermyback,andthehardground.Oneofmylegs

smashesintothechair,butIcan'tbebotheredtocare,notwithhowmuchtherestofmehurts,andallthe
thingsthatcould'vehappenedtoCalderwhileIwasplayingtrapezeartist.

Schroederseemstobeoutcold,ordead.I'mnotsurewhich.Twooftheothersarewrestling

Calderoffhim,whilethelastonepressesafingertoSchroeder'sneck.I'msomewhatlimitedbecauseof
thecuffs,butI'malsonotthinkingrationally.

Ijumpatoneofthemen'sback,draggingmycuffedhandsoverhisfaceandcatchingthechain

underhischin.Hestumblesbackwards,grabbingforme.Painripsthroughmystomachathisbody
catchingonmyslicedtorso.Calderseizesthemomenttofliptheotherguyholdinghimoverhisshoulder,
intotheonecheckingonSchroeder.

Myopponentchokes,thechainbitingintohisthroat,andregardlessofthepaininmywristsfrom

thepressure,Icanonlythinkofendingthisfast.Ibracemyselfandthrowmyweightbackward,catching
mykneesonhisbackandapplyingthatleveragetothechain.There'sadullcrackashiswindpipebreaks,
andwefallbackwards.Hisweightknocksthebreathoutofmeandmakesmywoundsburn,butIwiggle
outfromunderhim,andsnaphisneck.

Calderandtheremainingtwoarefacingoff,oneofthemtalkingintoawalkie-talkie,askingfor

reinforcements.IscuttleovertoSchroeder,andsearchhispocketsforthekey.Iwanttomakesurehe's
dead,orgivehiscorpseagoodkick,butthere'snotimewiththechancethatoneoftheseassholesmight
riskthecollateraldamagetousehisgun.

Ifindthecuffs'key,andopenthemasquicklyasIcan,holdingthecuffssteadyinmyfeetasI

work.Finally,theyfallaway,andIlungeforthetoolboxSchroederleftus.Iseizeoneoftheknives,aim,
andthrowit.WithoutwaitingtoseeifIhitmymark,IseizetwomoreandlungetowardCalder,pressing
oneintohishandsandplacingmyselfathisbackincaseanymoremencomein.

TheoneIthrewtheknifeatissagging,thebladestickingoutofhisforehead.Theotherfallsa

secondlaterasCalderlodgeshisknifedeepintotheman'schest.

“There'llbemore,”Igasp,thepainbeginningtooverwhelmme.“Hidingtime.”
Henods,andseizesthefirstaidkit.Heshovesasmanyoftheirhandgunsaswecancarryintoit,

holsterstoo.

“Goodthought,”Iwhisper.“Weshouldgettheirkeys,too.”
Hehelpsmesearchtheirbodiesforthemandshovetheminthebox.Then,Ipullhimthroughthe

opendoor,onelegofhissweatpantsclutchedhisotherhand.IwishI'dthoughttograbsomeoneelse's
shirt.Butitwouldtaketoomuchtimetowrestleitoffacoolingbody.

We'restilltrapped,butwe'realive,andthat'swhatcounts.
Aftersolonghere,weknoweverysequesteredspotthisshiphas.
Downintotheenginelevelswego,tofindanemptyspacetohidein.

Twenty-seven,Calder

Wefinallysettleonafanroom,offtheroomwiththeirfuel.Itonlyhastheoneentrance,andcan'tbe
easilypatrolled.Evenifitsomeonedoes,thefloorhastwolevels.Neartheentrance,thefloor'shigher.
Youhavetogodownaflightofstairs,turn,andspotushidingunderthefloors,fourfeetbelowtheinitial
ground.It'sassecureasanything,andIdoubtMillacouldmakeitmuchfurther,anyways.Idon'tlikethe
uglyraspofherbreathing.Shedoesn'twanttoadmithowseverethepainis,butshedoesn'tneedtofor
metoknowit.

“Here,birdie.Letmecleanthose.”Ihelpherliedown,andbeginrinsingthebloodoffher.
“HowdoIlook?”
“LikeIputyouthroughtheshredder.”
It'shardtoseparatemyselfenoughfromherinjuriestoexamineher.IfIletmyselfroilinguiltfor

everycutandburn,I'dneverbeabletohelpmakeitbetter.Coolwatertrailsdownherstomach,washing
awayadilutedtrailofblood.Shegrimacesatthestrangeticklewherethewatersinksbetweentheedges
ofhercut,proppingherweightuptowatchitrunoffherasthoughthat'llmaketheachefade.Ihatethat
feeling—it'stheworstpartofhandlingacut.Itmakesmewanttohurlseeingherwatchit,even.Iweta
pieceofgauze,andwipethegoreoffherchin.

ShehissesasIbreakouttheperoxide,rinsingtheopensores.
“Thatbad,hunh?”
“Justabit.We'realivethough.That'swhatcounts.”
Idon'thaveaneedleandthread,butbysomemiracle,someonedroppedatubeofsupergluethe

lasttimetheycamethroughhere.SoIputitonherskinwithgauze,toholdtheedgesofthedeepestparts
ofthecuttogether.

Shelaughs.“Andhereyouwerethinkingthiswasyourtimeforpayback,right?”
“Hmm?”
“ForhowmanytimesIhadtopokeyoutostitchyoubacktogetherlasttime?”
“Iwouldn'thavethoughtofitthatway,butmaybeyou'reright.Maybeitwouldbemore

satisfying.”

“Ipromise,love,thenexttime,you'llbeabletocausesomerealpain.”
She'splainlygiddy.Probablyinshock.Iwrapmyarmsaroundherandjustrelishthefactthat

we'realive.Theroom'salreadywarmfromthefanrunning,butherbreathticklesmyface,hotteryet.I
pullherlipstowardmeforakiss,andshewrinkleshernose.“Youshouldcleanyourselfup,next.You're
gonnagetmefilthyagain.”

“Yeah,you'reprobablyright.”Ipullawayfromherandbelatedlybeginwipingcrustedbloodoff

myself.

“NotthatIwastryingtochaseyouaway,oranything...”Shesmileswoozily,halfwaytodozing

off.

Idroptheusedgauze,anditseemstoechoofftheground—fabricdoesn'tmakethatnoise.Ifreeze,

andputahandonherlegandafingeronmylips,totellhertohush.Indeed,it'sanoiseinthenextroom—
peoplemovingquietly.

Milla'sreflexesareslowerthannormal.Tobeonthesafeside,Iseizeallofourhard-won

weaponsbutagunforeachofus,andhidethembehindasectionofpipingnearme.It'snearlypitchblack,
betweentheflooringaboveitandtheangleofthelighting.It'sassafeasIcanmakeit.

Thedooraboveuscreaksopen,andIpassMillahergun.Wepressourselvesintothedarkest

cornerofourhidingspot.

Oneofthemlooksatsomethinginhishand—Icanonlyseethebottomofblackplasticcasing,

though,soI'mnotsurewhetherit'sawalkie-talkie,orwhetherhe'spatrollingwithaphone.

There'stwomore,includingamorepolishedpairofshoesthantheoff-brandjackbootsmostof

them'rewearing.ThatmustbeSchroeder,thoughwehaven'tbeenintroduced.MillaandImouthcursesat
eachother,thathe'sstillalive.

“Littlepigs,littlepigs,letmecomein—”helaughs,staringdirectlythroughthegratingfloorat

us.Idoubthecanmakeanythingout,butthegesture'sunnerving,tosaytheleast.

Millaraisesthegun,herhandstrembling,andIputmyhandoverhers,totellhertowait.Wedon't

dareletashotoffuntilweknowthey'vefoundus.

Oneofthemennearhimshakeshishead,butonlywhenhe'sreassuredSchroeder'sattentionis

elsewhere.

Schroederraiseshisvoicetoamockingfalsetto.“Oh,notbythehaironmychinnychinchin.”

Andinanormalvoice,headds,“You'resurethey'reinhere.”

Theotherguysays,“Yeah,”andbeforeIcanstopher,Millatakestheshot.Herbullettearsthrough

Schroeder'shand,andheretreatsinthechaos.Thesoundoftheshot'sdeafening,tossedbackand
distortedbythefanblades.MyearsringuntilIcan'thearMilla'scursesatthenon-fatalshot.

Millarushesfromherhidingspot,aiminganothershotatthemanholdingthedevice,andhegoes

down,hisbrainsonthewallbehindhim.

Cursingmyself,Ifollowher.Buttheremainingguy'sdownthestairs.Hegrabsme,gettinginthe

wayofhershot.Sheaimstowardthedoorandfiresagain—obviouslySchroedersawafightcomingand
broughtreinforcements.

Ihavetokeepbothofusawayfromher.Ican'triskastrayblowknockingintoher.Hedoesn't

seemtohaveexpectedmetobeasstrongasIam;hebacksupthestairsasIpresshim.

Atthetop,Ipryhishandsawayfrommythroat,andsweephislegsoutfromunderhim,catching

hisweightandthrowinghimovertherailatthebackofthecatwalk.Hefliesovertheedge,butinsteadof
fallingtothefloorbelow,hisweightlandsinthefan.There'saseriesofawfulgrindingnoisesashis
torsodissolvesintobloodypasteintheventbehindthefan,andhisseveredhipsandlegslandnearour
originalhidingspot.

“Calder,”Millayells,thoughhervoicesoundsmuffledanddistant,pasttheringinginmyears.I

takethehintandrunbackdownthestairs,puttingourbacksagainstthewallandpickingourshotsatthe
menwho'realreadypouringthroughthedoorway.Schroedermusthavepulledeveryonefromupstairs—
bythetimethey'redone,there'snofloorspaceintheroom.Severalofthemfall,andtheotherstripover
thebodies.ButMillaandIareatadisadvantage;wecan'tevenhearthemuffledclickthatheraldsour
emptyguns.

Then,it'sanarchy,limbsflying.Schroeder'sobviouslytoldthemnottoshootusthistime.Either

that,ortheydon'thaveshotstheywant.Sotheyusetheirgunsasclubs.There'sadistantcrunchasthebutt
ofsomeone'ssemi-automaticslamsintomyshoulder,andforamoment,myfingersarefilledwithtingles
andshocks,aswellasthefuriouslyhotpaininmyshoulder.

Millacriesoutnexttome,butifItakethetimetolook,thenextblow'sgonnabetomyhead.A

mangoesbackward,hisweightbarelyonhisfeet.Heclutcheshisballs,clearlynoteagertogetupagain.
Andthemanbehindhimtumblesoverhim,notnoticinghimatthebottomofthestairs.

Someonecatchesaluckybreakandmanagestolandapunchintomystomach,knockingtheairout

ofme.Butworseyet,themomentumofitmakesmestumbleawayfromMilla,andthey'reonherina
second,wrestlinghertothefloordespitemorethanonebloodynoseandshatteredkneecap.Icanonly
catchglimpsesinbetweentryingtofindmoreprotectiontoputatmyback,anddodgingmoreblows.

Butit'sapointlessfight.I'mexhausted,andstillalittlesloppyfromthedrugs.Iholdoutaslongas

Ican,butpastacertainpoint,there'snothingIcandobutcurlintoaballtoprotectasmuchofmyselfas
possible,andshieldmyhead.

Asteel-toedbootcomesdownhardonanot-quite-coveredpartofmyskull,andtheworldgoes

dark.

Twenty-eight

Iopenmyeyes.That'ssomething.AndMilla'snexttome.That'ssomething,too.Hereyesareshut,andit
takesseveralhaphazardsecondsformetorememberwhyI'dexpectedshemightnotbethere.

Heplannedtokillher.Maybeshe'salreadydead.
Icrawlovertoher,everyinchofmebruisedandaching.Shedoesn'tlookmuchbetter.Buther

chestisrisingandfalling,andshenuzzlesclosertomewhenIwrapmyarmsaroundher.

Blearily,Imuttersomething—I'mnotevensureIunderstandwhat—andpassoutagain.
Sometimelater,shestartsstirring,andhermovementswakeme.Oneofhereyesisblackenedand

swollen,andherentirebody'scoveredinbootprints,somesovividIcanseetheirtreadsimprintedinher
delicateflesh.ThemakeshiftstitchesIsetonherstomachhavekeptthewoundclosed,butit'sbledall
overheragain,sluggishly.

Instincttakesover,andIcrawlbacktowherewehidtheshitwestolefromthem.Bysome

miracle,theydidn'tfindit.Idragthefirstaidkitbackovertoher,andbeginspongingheroffagain,
checkingherbothbytouchandsight,tomakesurethatshe'sokay.Hereyesblinkopen,andoneofher
handsalightsonmine,lettingmeguideitspathoverherbody.

“Youlooklikehell,”shesays,thewordshalting.
“Sodoyou,birdie.”
“I'msosorry—Ididanawfuljoboftakingcareofyou.”Itraceafingeroverthegauzecovering

thedeepestcut,unsurehowtoarticulatethenebuloussenseofguiltheatingmyblood.

“Notsurewhyyou'resorry.Noneofthisisonyou.We'refightingtogether.Sometimesthatmeans

wegetwoundedtogether.Maybeevendietogether.Andit'sbettertodiewithyouthantohavelived,
withoutthepain.”

“Ijust—Idon'tevenknowhowthathappened...Ididn'texpectthemtocomerightbacktouslike

theyhadusonaleashthewholetime.”

“Maybetheydid,”shesays,glancingtowardthecatwalkflooringafewfeetaway.They've

removedthebodies,butthebloodstainsremain.“Theywerelookingforushere.Theyknewwewere
here.”

Shetakesthewet,blood-stainedgauzeoutofmyhand,andbeginsdabbingatme.She'sgentle,but

Ican'thelpwincing.Herlipsareclose,soclose,andIwanttodrownmyselfinherkiss,lettherestof
thisfallaway.Iwantustoshedourdamagedshellsandbeabletojustexistineachother'sarms.I've
comesoclosetolosingher...tooclose.Idon'tdeservethattendertouch.IdeserveeverybruiseI've
gotten,andmore.

“Noneofthat,”shesays,andkissesmesoftly.“You'vegotbettershittodothanwallow.We're

alive,andthat'swhatcounts.Wegotoutofthatalive.Nowgetyourpantsoff.”

Shecombsoverme,inchbyinch,kissingfreshlycleanedskinassheworks.Eachtouchheightens

thetension,heightensmyneedtofeelherjustastenderlyundermyfingertips,undermytongue.

Finally,whenI'mmoreorlesswhole,sheletsmepullherintomylap,lockingheranklesbehind

me.AndIwrapmyarmsaroundher,savoringthesmoothgiveofherbody,thesoftnessofherbreasts.

Herfingerssweepthroughmyhaircomfortingly.“Iknowthatwashardonus.Butwe'refine.

We'refine.”

Herfingersbobbleoveraslideridgeonthefleshbehindmyear,andhereyebrowsknittogether.

Sheprobesthespot,thenfeelsherself.Thenswears,turningtheairblueinventively.“Corpsefucking
dickheads.I'mafuckingidiot—”

BeforeI'vemanagedtoaskwhat'swrong,she'sbackinourstash,comingoutwithalittleknife.

Myeyeswiden.

“Calder,please,don'tmove.IpromiseI'llbeasgentleasIcan.”
“What?”
“Pus-lickingassholeschippedus.”
Shedirectsmetolayonmysidetogetasmuchlightonmyheadaspossible.Atthelastsecond,

sherealizesthatI'mstillnotcomfortablewithit.“Orwouldyouliketodomefirst?”

“Waytomakeitsoundfilthy.”Idon'tthinktakingherupontheofferwouldactuallyhelp.“Gofor

it.”

Tennerve-wrecking,nausea-inducingminuteslater,myskull'sbandagedandbloody,andalittle

deviceisinherpalm.Ican'tactuallyseemuchofanythingaboutit—thelight'stoolow.“Yourturn,”she
says.“Whenyourstomach'scalmeddown.Youlookalittlegreen.”

“It'sjust...unnerving...havingsomeonediginyourskulllikeagameofOperation.”
“I'msure,”shesays,lyingonhersidethewayIwas.Ikneelnexttoherandwipemyhandsand

herskindownwithperoxide.Hernosepressesintomyknee,andstrangely,thatcontacthelps.“Youfeelit
inthere?”

NowthatIknowwhatI'mlookingfor,Ido.Isliceacrossherskin,andthenslidethetipofthe

bladeintothecuttohookitundertheedgeofthetrackingchip.Itpopsupsurprisinglyeasily,andI
managetopryitoutuntilIcangrabitwithmyfingernails.Finally,it'sfree,andIcanbandagethe
incision.

“Weshouldtradesowe'recarryingourown.Justsowedon'ttipthemoff.”Millasays,holding

outherhand.Itakemychipwithasomewhatunhappyfrown.Idon'tevenwanttolookatit.

“Doyouknowwhatthismeans?”sheasks,hervoicemostlybreathandexcitement.“Wehave

them.Wecantrapthem.Orescape.”

Twenty-nine,Milla

Caldergrinsatme,spiritualhungeretchedintoeverylineofhisbattle-wornface.“Youready?”

“Wheneveryouare,slowpoke.”
Helooksmeupanddown.“Safety'soff,everything'ssecure?”
Idoublecheck.“Yep.”
“Fortherecord,you'reafuckingtreatlikethat.”
Iwrinklemynoseathim.“Idon'tunderstandyousometimes.”
TheholsterswillprobablychafemybareskinifIhavetowearthemtoolong.Buthe'shardly

beenabletokeephishandsoffmesincewedivviedthemup.And,Ikindofgettheappeal.Theshoulder
holsterhekepthighlightshisbroadchestmasterfully,andit'sallIcandonottowrapmyarmsaroundhim,
feelingthecontrastbetweencoolleatherandwarmskin.

Neitherofushasbeenabletosleepnotknowingwhentheymightcomeback,butknowingthey

easilycan.Soinsteadwe'veplanned,roamingtheshipandscoutingit,takingcarenottolingeranywhere
wethinkwemightwanttomakeourstand.Thankfully,westillhaveaccesstoourfoodandwater,and
madeashowofsettinguplittlestashesaroundtheship,asthoughwe'rethinkingwewon'twanttobe
movingaroundtoofarinthefuture.Andinourexplorations,weevenfoundafewgoodiesforourtrouble:
oneoftheirwalkie-talkiesfellintheroomwhereIcutintoMilla.Itlandedbetweentwoofthewallstuds,
inadipwherethefloorwasraised.We'vekeptacarefullisten,thoughwedon'tdarecarryitopenlylest
theyknowwehaveit.

Theydon'thaveenoughcamerastokeepaneyeonusallthetime,sowehideouractivitiesasbest

wecan.Theirfueltankalwayshadthatminorleak,butalittleartfulpipe-looseningworsensituntilwe
cansteadilysiphonfuelofftosecreteinthebelow-deckstairwells,andafewotherlocationsnearthem,
justincase.Weneedtomakewhatdamagewecandocount.

“Camerasthere,andthere.Remembertoplaytowardthem.”
“Yes,mom.You'regettingneurotic.”It'salmostcutehowfocusedhegetswhenhe'sactually

anxiousaboutsomething.Ipullhimdownforakiss,theholsterspullingtightwhenIraisemyarms.

“Ifthisdoesn'tgowell,thismightbethelasttimewe'retogetherlikethis.”Calder'seyesare

serious,precludingmycommentaboutitbeingbadlucktotalklikethat.

“Yeah,butifitdoes,it'sourchancetomakesurewehaveyearsmorelikethis.Soshutupand

kissme.”

Heobeys,andthenleadsmetoourstage.Theircamerasdon'thavesound;they'regenericCCTV

bullshit,andwecouldn'tfindamicpickupanywhere.“Iloveyou,youasshole,”Iyell,telegraphingmy
motionsbroadly.AndthenIpullmyknifeandheholdsmyhandback,cordinghismusclesmorethanhe
needstogiventhatI'mnotreallyfighting.Heslapsmeacrossthefaceandpicksuptheknife.

“I'msorryaboutthat,birdie,”heyellsrightback,shovingmychestsoIfalltothefloor.Hisback

tothecameras,heslidestheknifeintohiswaistbandandtapsmystomach.Ifallgoeswell,they'llthinkhe
juststabbedme.Hisotherarmpressesagainstmystomach,dislodgingsomeofthescabbingaroundmy
cut,andrestartingthebloodflow.Wecan'triskthemseeingabloodlesskill.

IwiggleandkickmylegsasthoughI'mputtingupafight.Weshareasecretsmilewhenhiscock

hardens,knowingthatunderothercircumstances,thefightwouldbeharder,andwe'dstillenduphere.
Thoughinthatcase,it'ddevolvetosomethingalotmorex-ratedthanwhatwehaveplanned.Heleans
forwardtoputhishandovermymouth,andIkisshispalm,evenasImakesuremyhandsarepositioned
againsthischestlikeI'mpushinghimaway.

Nowcomesthetrickypart.Iletmykicksgetmoreandmoreintermittent,andthenholddead

fuckingstillandletmyarmsfall.Caldergetsoffmeandheftsme.Hisshouldercutsintomycutstomach,

butatleastanynewbleeding'llconvincethemevenmorethatheturnedonme.Thescarsmightbeuglier
forallthetimeswe'vereopenedthewound,butthescarsarethelastthingeitherofuscaresabout.

“Remembertocatch,”hemurmurs,andthenthrowsmeovertherailing.
Iprayhe'sthrownmefarenough;ifnot,I'vegotalongwaydown.ButIcleartheopeningeasily,

catchingtherailingontheotherside,wherethere'snocameras.Iripoffthestripoffirstaidtapeholding
mychiptomybody,andthrowthechipdownwhereIwould'veotherwiselanded.Calderdoesn't
acknowledgeanyofit.Hewalksoffcamerainthedirectionofthestairs,andthrowshischipdownafter
mine.

It'sonlyamatteroftime.Thewalkie-talkieexplodesinaudiblechatterasCalderloopsaroundto

climbupandjoinme,stilloutofthecameras'view.

“We'vegotnoise.Lookslikethewoman'sdead.Manshouldbenearher.It'sover.”
“You'resure?Thesetwo'rewily.”
“Won'tknow'tilwecheck.Tom'nIareonit.Looksdone,though.Stabbedthelittlecooze,stuck

'erjustaseasilyasyouplease.Bloodandall.Thenhestrangledher.Nohesitation.”

“Wait.Justincase,waitforPatchandLowelltobackyouup.Andradioupifyouneedanything.

WakeNealtokeepwatch.”

“Duh.YouthinkIwanttoenduplikeanyoftheothers?I'vegotakidtogetbackto.”
“What,andIdon'tsoI'mbulletfodder?”Thesecondonesays,alittlebitterly.
“Aww,c'mon.IkeeptellingyoutojustapologizetoTrish,andyoutwo'llfigureitout.She'lllet

youseethetykeagain—”

CalderandIclimbbetweenthegratingandfloorinthelittleroomoffofourwalkway,justincase

theypassusonthewaydown.Heholdsme,hisbodyreassuringagainstmine.Heturnsthewalkie-talkie
offsoitwon'tgiveusaway,andtucksitbackinhispocket.“Whateverhappensnext,birdie,Iloveyou.”

“Iknow,”Imurmur.There'sfootstepsnearusalready.“Shhh.”
Bootsstompin.“Patch,youstayrighthere.Shoutifyouseeanything.We'regoingdowntolook.”
“Whatever,asshole.Whoputyouincharge?”
“Untilthebosscomesdown,hedid,sinceIwaswatchingthemonitors.Iknowwhatwe're

lookingfor.”

Shit,Caldermouthsintomyhair.Wehadhopedtheywouldn'tleaveasentryinourpath.
ItwistmyheaduntilIcanseethelightfilteringacrosshislips.
Move?Hemouths,andIshakemyhead.Bettertostayput,forthemoment.Wehavetheirkeys,but

wecan'triskPatchsendingupthealarm.

Afterafewmoments,anothersetoffootstepscomesintotheroom.“Wherearethey?”Schroeder

asks,gettingstraighttothepoint.

“Below.Theothersaresecuringthespot.”
“Gotit.Gojointhem.Wedon'twanttobespreadout,ifit'sanykindoftrap.Didtheyseetheslut

die?”

“Alexsawit.Seemedtothinktherewasn'tmuchwayshe'dlive.”
“Damnit.Ioweherforthis.”
Patchfidgetsuncomfortably,makingthegratescreak;Schroedermustbeshowingoffhishand.I

can'trestrainasoftchuckle.CalderandIarejusteasingoutandgettingreadytoclimbtothecatwalk
whenavoicecallsupfromoneofthelowerlevels.“They'renothere.Neitherofthem.”

Motherfuckers.Icurse.We'vegottamakeabreakforit,butwe'vegotevenlesschancewiththem

onthealert.“Spreadout.Search.”Schroederorders.“Shootintothefloor,intoanygratingceilings.They
couldbeanywhere.”

Mybloodrunscoldashisfootstepssoundinourlittleoff-room.Hestaresdown,andfora

momentI'mpositivehecanseeus,despitetheburnedoutbulbinthisroom.Thereportofgunshotsona

floorbelowusmakesmetense,butIstruggletonotletanymovementsrasponthefloor.Caldersqueezes
myhand,asanothersetofshotssounds,muchcloser.Sparksflyupfromthefloortoourleft,andCalder
flinchesasoneofthemhitshisback.Pleasedon'tletitsingehimenoughtosmell,Ipraytomyself.It
probablyalreadyshould,butthisroomreekslikesomemannerofoilandbilgewater;it'shardtosmell
anythingoveritalready.

“Clearhere,”Schroedercalls,andhisfootstepsretreat.
Idon'twaitanothersecond.IpullCalderoutonmysideofthecatwalk,andweclimbbackupto

thefloor,andmoveasquietlyaswecantowardtheexit.

Justtospreadthemoutasmuchaspossible,ourmakeshiftfirebarriersareafloorup.Ideally,

they'llspendtimemovingaround,tryingtocheckalltheotherstairwellsbeforetheyriskpushingthrough
ortakingthetimetoextinguishit.Theyobviouslydon'thavethesprinklerson,sincethesmokefrom
Calderbrandingmeneversetanythingoff.

Pleaseletthemhaveforgottentoturnthosesystemsbackon.Somanyifsandmaybes.Butthis

plan'sourbestshot.Andsofarit'sworking.

Caldertimeshisshotintothefirstfuelpileforoneoftheirs.Hopefullythat'llhideit.Thefuel

sparksintoafull-fledgedfire,andthankfullynowaterrainsonustoputitout.

Weracetothenextstairwell,andthenext,settingoffeachstash.We'resealedupnow—

everythingsouthofthemaindeckistemporarilyblockedoff.Theyhavenoreinforcements,andforthe
amountoflivingspaceinthesealedoffarea,theycan'thavemanyguysleft,eveniftherewereashitton
ofthemassignedtoSchroeder'spetproject.I'velostcountofhowmanywe'vepickedoff,andunless
they'vegottenmoremenshippedtothem,theyhavetoberunningthin.

Calderturnsthewalkie-talkiebackon.
“Nothingyet.They'reheresomewhere,though.Telleveryoneoff-shifttobewary.”
“Really?”Asarcasticvoicequips.“We'reworkingeighteen-hourshifts,doublingupontasks.You

wanttheotherstowakefromtheirfuckingnapsforanythingotherthananactofGod?What'reallfiveof
usgonnadotofixthisthatyouandyourteamcan't?”

“I'llflayyouwhenIgetbackupthere,Neal.”
Sofar,nomorealarms.Caldersweepsmeintoaquickkiss,beforewedouble-timeitupthe

stairs.

“Nomercy?”IaskCalder.“Fivemen—wecantake'em,solongasnoonegetstotheirgun.”
“Asleepintheirbeds,birdie?”Hegrimaces.It'scertainlyadickmove.“Theyjustaswellshovea

pillowundertheirfacenow,andgetitoverwith.They'reasgoodasdead.”Hisvoiceisheatedwiththe
thrillofthehunt,andIwishtohellwehadafewminutesformetodrinkthatheatin,andlethimsharpen
hisclawsonmefirst.

Iknowfromexperienceaboardothervesselsthetopfloorhasafewlivingquarters,butismostly

commroomsandthebridge.Butifthey'reoperatingaskeletoncrew,they'llprobablyallbethere.The
monitorswillfeedtothecommroom,sincetheengineroom,theotherlikelyvantagepoint,wasinour
domain.Calderflicksthewalkie-talkie'svolumedown,andIhandlethekeyswhilehewatches,gun
aimedintothestairwell.

Thekeyletsusinseamlessly,andCalderandIprowltowardthecommroomnearthebridge,

slippingintoemptybedroomsseparately,justtobesure.Hetakestherightsideofthecorridor,Itakethe
left.

Everysecondhe'soutofmyeyesightisaneternity.Andboundlesswordsanddesirespass

betweenuseachtimewemeetinthehallwayagain.

Finally,thefirstinhabitedbedroominmypath.Bunkbeds,amanineach,heavilysnoring.Islit

themanonthebottom'sthroat,andthendothesametothemanonthetopbunkbeforehe'ssomuchassat
upathisbuddy'sgurglingcries.Thebloodsplattersme,slickly,andIwipemyhandscleanontheir

sheets.Then,tobeonthesafeside,Ithrowonthefirstclotheshanginginthelittlewardrobebuiltintothe
wall,resettlingmyholstersontopofthem.

Backinthehallway,Calder'sstaringinhisdoorway.Hiseyeslightupwhentheyseeme,but

they'restillhaunted.There'sabloodsmearacrosshischest,too.I'mnotsurprisedhehassuchadifficult
timekillingpeoplewhiletheysleep.He'salwaysbeenbetterthanthis,onlydraggedintothisbyme.But
then,what'sthealternative?Himdead,thoseicyeyesunblinkingandunseeing?Iholduptwofingers,
lettinghimknowmytake.Heholdsuptwo,aswell.Soit'sjustthemaninthebridge.Neal,Schroeder
calledhim.

Westartdirectlyfortheendofthehall,nolongerslowed.Wedrawourguns,withnoneedfor

quiet.

Asweopenthedoor,themaninthechairstands,andturns,hishandsraised.“Please,don'tshoot

—Icanflyyououtofhere.”CalderandItradeglancesoutofthecornerofoureyes.“Theyhavemy
family.Icouldn'tdoshit.Buttheonlywayout'sthechopper.AndIcantakeyou.IfSchroeder'sdead.”

Itsoundstoogoodtobetrue.

Thirty,Calder

Istepforward,leavingMillastilltrainedonhim.“I'mgonnasearchyou.Onewrongmove,andit'sa
tossupwhethertheladymakesyourheadexplode,orIgutyou.”

Hiseyeswiden.“IsweartoGod,Ididn'thaveanythingtodowiththis.Theyblackmailedmeinto

doingerrands,andtwodaysagowhenIdroppedsomefoodhere,thebigguysaidIwasn'tallowedto
leaveuntilthey'dwrappeduptheirwork.Ididn'tknowuntilyesterdaywhatthatworkwas.Whatever
they'vedonetoyou—”hiseyeslingeronthewayMilla'sshirtstickstothebloodcrustingher.Ifthere
wasevenalittleappreciationinit,I'ddownhim.Nooneelsedeservestoseethepunishmentherbody's
taken,orthepromisesthosedangerouscurveshold.Andcertainlynotherbeautifulpussy.Justhavingher
clothedagainisarelief.

Thankfully,hisgazeisfilledwithhorror,nolustorenjoyment.Andtoanyonewhodoesn'tknow

herlikeIdo,she'sacreaturefromanightmare,notared-bloodedwomanwhocantakepainthatwould
breakmostothers.Thatletsmecontinuesearchinghimwithouttheurgetopunchhimforstaring.

There'snotaweapononthefucker.AndSchroedersuredidn'tsoundhappywithhim.Ireturnto

Milla.“It'sabettershotthanwe'dhoped.”

“Yeah,”sheagrees.Hiseyesareonus,waitingforaverdict.“Yousomuchastwitchwrong,and

you'regonnaloseyourballsbeforeyoudie.”Shetakesonehandoffthegun,licksafinger,andholdsitto
theairinpromise.“InevermakeapromiseIdon'tkeep.Let'sgo.”

Sheleadshimoutatgunpoint.Nowthatwedareturntheradiobackon,thechatter'samess.
“Oneofthefueltankslit.Therewasatrail.Mustabeenaleakwhentheyweremovingthatshit

intoplace.Andthere'snoanswerfromupstairs.They'veshutthedoorbehindthem.”

“There'sgonnabeamanhole—something.Somewaytogetoutofthisdeathtrap.Keeplooking.

ThosewalkingabortionsaregonnawishMama'dswallowed.”

Igrin,andturnthevolumealittlelower.“Hearthat?Nohelpfromyourbuddies.Youbetternotbe

lying,now.”

Heswallows.“No.”
Finally,wereachthemaindeck,andheleadsusacrossittotheblockadeofshippingcrates.He

opensoneusingakey,andleadsusin.Millaglares,untilsherealizesthatit'slit—there'saselectseries
ofdoorsopenedtoallowforpassagethroughthem.Shebeams,realizingwe'rethisclosetofree,andthat
smilewarmsmeallover.Itevenerasestheanxietyofseeingherlimp.Thishasbeenalotofenergyfora
womaninjuredasbadlyasshewas.

WhenIsendanotherglancebackather,sheglaresatme.“I'mnotgonnacollapse,youknow.Keep

movingforward.”

Indeed,wepressforwardatasteadypace,andtheairsoonopensoverus.Arelieffromthe

claustrophobicmetaltunnelsthatremindmeonlytoomuchofthisship'sunderbelly.

Anothervoicecutsthrough,withstatic.“Imadeitupstairs.Fourmendeadintheirbeds.”Neal's

eyeswiden,buthispacedoesn'tfalter.“Nosignofthatsarcasticbastard.”

“Ugh.Sowhenwecatchuptothem,killthemall.”
“Ouch,”Millasays,thumpinghimontheshoulderwithhergun.“Lookslikeyourbuddies're

throwingyouunderthebus.”

“They'renotmyfuckingbuddies,”hegrowlsather.“ThosebastardsthreatenedmysonunlessI

agreedtowritetheseexcursionsas'teachingtrips'anddothem.Idon'tknowwhatthefuckkindof
monstersyoutwoaretohavetheirattention,andtoholdit.Ijustwantmyfuckingfamilytostaywhole.”

I'malmostbeginningtobelievehim.Butthat'sstillnotgonnastopmefromkillinghim,ifweneed

to.

“That'sallwe'veeverwanted,too,”Millasays,tradingaglancewithme.
Thepathtothepadendsataladdertotheraiseddeck.“I'llgoupfirst,thenyou,thenCalderlast.”

Shenodsatme.“Ifthere'sanysentriesupthere,heain'tgonnasignalthem.Keepyourguntrainedonhim
'tilIwaveatyoutocomeup.”

“Gotit,birdie.”
Icountdownthesecondsuntilshe'sbackintoview,beckoningusup.Nealmakestheclimb

quickly,aspeedbornoffear,nodoubt.AndfromhisraisedhandswhenImakeitupbehindhim,Milla
kepthimatgunpointatthetop,easily.Mybeautifulforceofnature,neveronetolosefocus.Eyeshooded
withintensity,andasteadygriponthegun.

Heleadsustothechopper,andsettlesherintheback.Isitwithhim,wearingthestupidhelmethe

givesme.Andhebeginshispre-flightchecklist.

“Speeditup!”Millayells.
“I'mnotgonnadieinafuckingcrashbecausesomeassholemessedwithsomethingordidn't

refuel,”heyellsback,therotorsdrowningoutmostoftheirspat.

Somethingdoesn'tsitwellwithme.Asecondlater,thesoundofashotreachesme.Ican'tsee

whereitcamefrom,though.Afteramoment,there'sanother,astwomenreachthetopofthestairs.
Schroeder,andoneofhisunderlings.Millashootstheunderlingwithease,butSchroederdoesn'tseemto
havethegoodsensetostayfurtheraway.“Hangon,”sheyells,asNealswearsather.He'scaughton
fasterthanIhave,thatinjuredlegorno,she'snotdonewiththefight.Sheclimbsout,dodginggunfire,and
hidesbehindacrate.

I'mtornbetweenjumpingouttohelpherandcrossingmyfingers.Butshedoesn'tneedmyhelp.

HernextshottakesSchroeder'sknee,andwithoutthatgoodlegtostandon,hecan'tfightheroff.Shepulls
himtowardtheback.

“What'reyoudoing,birdie?”Inearlyhavetoscreamtobeheard,overthewhirringblades.
“Likehesaid.IfSchroeder'sdead,thisallends.Schroedercangiveustherestofthem,andendit

forgood.”

Hehascuffshangingfromhisbelt,andItwisttostareassheshoveshiminbackandcuffshim.

Neveronetotakechances,sheuseshisbelttotiehisanklestogether,andabundleofgauzeinthefirstaid
kitonthewalltogaghim.Nealliftsoff,andthebottomdropsoutofmystomach.

Home.Thewordsoundsalmostunfamiliaronmytongue.
Afterallofit,we'resoclosetosafe.

***

“Sowhat'syourstory?”Nealasks,glancingbackasthoughhe'safraidMillawilljumpoutathim.

“Notquitesure.Bossboytherewantedsomething.Notthefaintestcluewhat.Weweretryingto

killourwaytothatanswerwhenhesweptusup.”

Neal'seyeswiden.“Yourwoman'sseriousthen?”
Millaraiseshereyebrowsatme,atthat.
“What?Youaremywoman.”Igrinather.“She'sbeenseriousaslongasI'veknownher.Why?”
“Calder?Hon?Remember,we'reprobablygonnahavetoshoothimwhenweleave.Onthatnote,

flyboy,pleaselandsomewherefarawayfrompeople?”

“Milla,birdie,trynottospookthemanwho'snotkillingusintheair?”Ican'thelpbutchuckle.

Neal'seyesaresaucers,though,thelightcuttingacrosshistawnyskin.“Don'tmindher.We'vebeen
runningonfumesforweeks.Youdon'tcrossher,shewon'tgooutofherwaytokillyou.”Ifixherwitha
stare.“Right,birdie?Youneverkillwithoutadamngoodreason?”

Shehuffs.“Keepingussafeisdamngoodreason.Andwhat'stostophimfromrunningbackto

themthemomentwe'reout,andsteeringthemtous?Especiallysinceit'sgonnataketimetolearnwhatwe
needtofromthisfucker.”ShelevelsanastykickatSchroeder'sinjuredknee,andheroarsinagony,
despitethegag.

“Icankeepyousafe,”Nealcries,halfwaytoapanic.“You'renotgonnaknowwhereyouare,

right?I'vegotafriendalittlefurtherinland.Hisfamily'sroughtrade,buthedoesn'tworkwiththemor
anyoneelse.Realantisocialbastard.”

Millagivesmeanappraisinglook.Iknowitwellenoughtounderstandshe'sofferingtofollow

mylead.ProbablysinceI'mcloseenoughtoactuallylookforliar'stellsintheguy.

“They'regonnabescared,right?Schroeder,here,he'salwaysintouchwiththeothers.Hemisses

asingleconferencecall,they'regonnabequaking,wonderingifit'sajokesohecanwalkinandshoothis
successorthemomenttheynameone.”

“Good.”MillastaresatSchroeder.“Themorescared,thebetter.”Sheturnstome.“LetNealtip

themoff,ifhedares.We'vegottheupperhand,andthisisourchancetotaketheirwholenetworkout.”
Hereyesaredarkandhungry,thecolorofahurricaneatsea.ShealternatesglancesbetweenNealand
Schroeder.“Letthemarm,letthemhide.Everysinglelastoneofyoumurderoussociopaths—”Neal
snorts,“—isgonnadie.”

Schroederscreamsagainasshesmasheshergunacrosshisuninjuredknee,shatteringthekneecap.
That'smybirdie,moreahawkthanasparrow,everreadyingforthekill.

Thirty-one,Milla

Neal'sconnection,introducedsimplyasLogan,looksatusoverthedinnertable,takinginthebloodstains,
andourhardexpressions.Neal'sstillpleadingwithhim.“I'msorry,man—Ididn'tknowwhoelsetogo
to.Thegirls'vegottabesoscaredformeandIcouldn'tthinkbeyondgettingbacktothem.AndTroy—”

“Well,you'renotgonnabegettingbacktothemforabit,yet.Youcancallandtellthemyou're

okay.I'massumingthatyourcelldidn'thavegreatreceptiononboard,andtheyweren'tlettingyoucall
out.”Igivehimathreateningsmile.“IknowIsoundlikeacunt,butit'sfortheirsafetytoo.Ifyourex-
bosses—”heglaresatmeforthat,“thinkyou'vebetrayedthem,they'regonnagotoyourfamilylooking
forinformation.Whenyoucall,youshouldtellthemtotakeoff.Don'tstaywithrelatives—staywith
friends.Nocreditcardtrails.Andhavethemthrowtheiroldphonesawayandgetnewprepaidones.
Untilthisisallover,theyneedtobeunderground.”

Hislookchanges.HealmostbelievesIcare.That'snottosayIdon't,simplythatIhavebigger

thingstospendtoomuchtimethinkingaboutit,eventhoughIdon'twantanyinnocentscomingtoharmfor
this.

Loganglaresatus.“YoudoknowIdon'twantshittosplashbackonme,right?Harvey'sbeen

gettingmoreandmorecontrolling.Suchafuckingdick.”

“Harvey,wait.”Thename'sfamiliartome.“You'rerelatedtoHarveyLind?”
Lindrunsamotorcycleclubfurtherinlandandsouth,butI'vestillheardwhispersabouthisreach.

AfewoftheguysIworkedwithhadlooseaffiliationswithit,andwouldrideoutforvacationsandsuch
tojointheirbuddies.

“Yeah.”Logandoesn'tsoundhappythatIpickeduponthat.Hisstrongjawlinesetsinirritation.

Forakidwholooksfreshoutofhighschool,albeitahard-knockshighschool,hedoesn'tseemthetypeto
wearhisclubcolorslikehe'shappywiththem.

“Sothisisawin-win,”Calderpressesforward,notpickinguponit.“Withthesyndicateout,

that'llopennewmarketsforyouguys.”

“StoptalkingaboutwhatthedissolutionoftheSchroedersyndicatewouldmeantoEden'sExiles.

Starttalkingaboutwhatitmeanstoyou.”

“They'regonnadie,”Isay.“Becausetheydeserveto.They'rerabid,andthey'vehurttoomany.”
Loganstaresatme,piecingmetogether.“Okay.I'llhelpkeepyououtoftheirsight.Andgetyou

guysfakeIDstogetaway.”

Igrin,notfindingahintofdeceitinhim.Thelastweightfallsfrommyshoulders,andIwhoopand

throwmyarmsaroundCalder'sneck.

We'resoclosetodone.Thisstory'ssoclosetofinished.Theadvantagesareours.Ifwedon'tmess

thisup,bythistimenextweekwecouldbefree,withnoonelefttoflank,ambush,orbackstabus.Well,
week'smaybeoptimistic.Butnextmonth,attheleast.

Calderwrapshisarmsaroundme,buryinghisfaceinmyneck.Inthecompanyofothermen,he's

shutdownsomewhat,adoptingmoreofthemannerismsoftheheadstrongalphaheisaroundothers.But
hislipsagainstmyneckwhisperhowexhaustedheis,andhowdesperatelyheneedsthisnightmaretobe
over.

Thirty-two

Schroederbrokeeasily,bereftofhismen.Thatcockinessandsadisticpleasureinhisvoiceisgone.And
itonlytookbreakingseveralfingersandafewextremelysatisfyingkickstothenuts.Ihaven'tforgiven
himforthepatchworkofscabsacrossmystomachandchest.Still,it'stooeasy.Maybeit'sthathenever
learnedhowtobehelplessanddependent.Heonlyeatswhenwefeedhim,andhecan'tstandonhisown
wellenoughtousethefuckingtoiletwithoutseverepain.Iwouldfeelbad,ifthishadn'tbeenoneofhis
favoritemethodsofpunishmentforthosewhoirkedhim.Andjusttobeonthesafeside,Ikeeppushing,
longpastwhenI'msurehe'sbroken.HisbodywillhavemorescarsthanhewantedCaldertoputonmine.

Hemakesthecallswithoutquestion,anddoesn'tevenattempttosneakinanSOS,atleastasmuch

aswecanbesureofthat.

Verysoon,he'sarrangedsomethingspecialforus.Ourownambush.Allofthem,rightwherewe

needthem.Aluxuriouslodgehenormallyrents,fairlyclosetoLogan'slittlehome.Theplanswere
alreadyinmotion—heonlyhadtoanswer“yes”and“no”questionstoconfirmthearrangementswithhis
cousinAllison,whowasalreadyontopofthearrangementsforanemergencymeet-cum-familyreunion.

Nealstaysinhisroommostofthetime,tohavesomedegreeofplausibledeniability,while

CalderandIbuildthetrapsasfastaswecan.Surprisingly,Loganhelpsus,demandingIshowhimhowto
usethetoolssohe'snotrestrictedtojustholdingpiecesinplace.Fromtheinstanthesawmewelding,his
eyeslitup.

ItalkaboutallofthetrapsI'veset,becauseitfeelsgoodtotalk,tonothavetohide.Ishowhim

howtomanagethebeadtocreatestrongseams.Andhiseyeslightupashebeginstobrainstormother
usesforit,buildingsmugglingcompartmentsandsuch.It'snotuntilthenightbeforewe'rereadytogothat
herevealsthereasonfortheinterest.

“It'sperfect.IcantellmydadI'mlearningskillsforthebusiness,andthatanyworkexperienceis

tothateffect.AndI'llhavethatsafetynetsetupsoIwon'tactuallyhavetocomebackanddoit.Ican
changemyname,notgetdrawnintothebloodshed,andthepolitics—”

Caldergiveshimasympatheticlook.Heknowsthatfrustrationwell.“Family'snotallit'scracked

uptobe,isit?”Hesighs.“Allofushere,wewereborntobadpeople.Todobadthings.Andfighting
againstthatcurrent,tryingtocorrectthedamagethey'vedone...it'sthemosthorriblegiftIcanthinkoffor
someonetogivetheirkid.”Caldersqueezesmyhandaswesurveyourhandiwork.“Imightsleepfora
weekoncethisisalldone.”

“Likehellyouwill,”Igrumble.“I'mnotdoingallthecleaningwhileyou'reoutcold.”
“Ofcourseyouaren't.Ifullyplanonlayingontopofyousoyoucan'tmovewithoutmeknowing.”
Ifliphimoff.Loganglancesawkwardlyaway.Calderclearshisthroat,andgetsbacktopacking

ourfinishedwork,slidingitintotheliningofrollingsuitcases,tomakeitmoredifficulttodetect.

“Howdoyoudoit?”heasks.“Howdoyoulovesomeonelikethat?Withthatkindofbloodon

theirhands?”

“You'dbebetteroffaskinghim,”Isay,tippingmybeerbottletowardCalder'scordedshoulders

andsexyass.“Ilovedhimbeforehewalkedthisroad.WhenIwastheonlyoneonit.Whenthemost
complimentarywayIcouldlookathimwastothinkhewasanidiotexecutivewhohadnocluewhat
criminalactivitieshisfriendsweredoing.Theworstpeoplehaveseedsofredemption,justwaitingto
growandblossom.It'salessonIdidn'tknow,whenIwasyounger.”

“Andyou'restillgonnagomassacrearoomfulofpeople?”
“Iam.”
He'stakenabackbytheflatanswer,andbackpedalstohislastquestion.“Still.I'mnotreallyinto

doingthewholesong-and-dancethatcomeswithaskingaguysomethinglikethat.Howdoyoulovehim,

knowingwhathe'sdone?”

I'mnotsureifhe'saskingthesamequestionbecausehehasn'tfiguredoutwhathe'sreallyasking.
“BecauseIknowwhyhedidit.Andnomatterhowawfulitis,Ican'tblamehimforbeinga

productofhissituationanymorethanIwantotherstoblamemeforbeingaproductofmine.Topretend
hereallychosehispath,anddeserveseveryinchoftheblameorrewardforit...it'stoignoresuchvast
swathsoftheworld—it'stoblindfoldmyself.”

Ilookathim,finallyputtingmyfingerontheyearningatthecoreofhisquestion.“Ilovehim

becausehisdeedsdon'tmakehimundeservingofthatlove.Becauseevengoodpeoplegetledastray,do
badthings.Andeventheworstpeoplehaveseedsofredemption,justwaitingtosprout.Ittookmealong
timetoseeit,butIdonow.”

“Andyou'restillgonnagomassacrearoomfulofpeople?”
Irollmyeyes.Again?Idon'tunderstandwhythismakessolittlesensetohim.
“Iam.Becausethey'repeoplewho'vechosentodrytheirseedstodormancyratherthanletthem

bloominfertileearth.”

“Andthat'showyou'regonnasleepatnight?”
“Secondthoughts?”
“No.Just—maybeIshouldbewillingtodirectlydefyHarvey.”Heanswersmyquestioninglook,

“Iwon'tcallhimDad,becausethatrequirestoomuchrespect.He'snotreallyanybetterthantheassholes
I'mhelpingyoumurder.ButIthinkthisistheclosestIcancometothisparticularfight.BestIcandoisto
getaway,toliveformyself.Notforrevenge,orredemption.Tojustbe.”

“Thatsoundsbeautiful,Logan.I'msureyou'lllovethat.”
Igivehimatightsmile,alittleuncomfortablewiththejudgmentinherentinit.AndthenCalder

glancesatmeforhelp,andIputmymindbacktowork.

***

TheguestlistincludessomeofthepoliticalpowerplayerswhoCaldermightbeexpectedtoworkwith,
hadhekeptupthecharadeofrunningforoffice.Mostly,though,he'snamedhisownlieutenants.Mostof
themarefamily-by-marriage,therestarejustplainfamily,withasmatteringofsocialclimbersand
associates.We'retheonlyinnocentadditionstothelist.Well,asinnocentasweeverreallyare.

Andalsoontheguestlist,LucyHerzog,Calder'soldmentor.Proofthatthey'remetaphoricallyin

bed.Andanopportunitytotargetherwithoutitsplashingbackonus,aswellastakingoutmostofthe
peoplewhowouldwanttohurtCalder.Truthfully,itworriesme.There'senoughhistorybetweenCalder
andLucythatI'mnotthrilledwiththeideaofhimhavingtotargetingherthatpersonally.

Iwon'tmakehimkillsomeonehestillharborssomefriendshiptoward,butIsureashelltrusthim

tohelpwiththeothers.Schroedermayhavetriedtokillus,buthe'sonlypushedustobestronger,more
resilient.

Andintime,we'reinmotion.Abagpackedwithformalclothes,andthedeconstructedtraps,sewn

intotheliningofoursuitcasesjustincase,alongwithweaponry.Logankissesmycheekandthumps
Calder'sshoulder.Neal'sgonnastaywithhim,andSchroeder'stiedupinourtrunk,comingupwithus.

Thepartyisbeingheldatamansionownedbyoneofthehigher-ups.Theyhaveavaletoutfront.

Hevalettakesourbags,andhurriedlyreststhemflatandglancesattheirinside.“I'msosorry,Mr.Roane.
Iknowitseemsterriblyrude,butit'sstandardpracticetoensureallguestsarecomplyingwithMrs.
Schroeder's'noweaponsatthedinnertable'policy.Andnooneelseishereyet,sothere'snotmuchfor
youtodoforawhile.Mr.Schroederrequestedthatallguestsbeintheirroomswhennotinthegathering.
Perhapsyoumightrestbeforedinner.Mr.Schroeder'sveryparticularabouthisguestsprivacy.Evenall
ofthenonessentialserverswillbeheadinghomeonceyourmeal'sprepared.”

Calderflasheshimacockygrin.“That'sokay.I'mcelebratingmyengagementstill.Youcouldn't

pryusawayfromthebedanyways.”Hewinks,lewdly,andIelbowhim.Theyoungmanconcealsa
smirk,butashepicksupourbags,hisjacketpullstightagainstahiddengun.

Ilookaround,gettingmybearingsasbestIcan.Allofthestafflookterse,andarearmed.

Someone'sexpectingsomethingtohappentonight.Notjustus.IknewSchroederbroketooeasily.He's
obviouslytippedthemofftosomething.Evenneutralized,he'sathorninmyside.

Theroom'sluxurious,butit'snotlostonusthatourescortlockedthedoorbehindus.The

windowsareopen,though,andwehonestlyexpectedasmuch.Thesepeoplewouldn'tputtogether
somethinglikethiswithoutsomeparanoia.Toavoidrousingsuspicion,Ishimmyacrossthetrellis
borderingthebalconyintothenextbalcony.Theotherroom'sempty,clearlybeingrenovated.Iwonder
whatkindofevidencethey'retryingtoremoveofitslastguest.

Calderthrowsthecasewithourtrapsovertome,andthenclimbsover,himself.Islipa

screwdriveroutandunscrewthedoorknobfromthehinge,slidingthemechanismbacktocircumventthe
lock.

Wecarryoutourbusinessquietly.Thankfully,wemanagenottodrawanyone'sattention.Ifthey're

scaredoutofthedininghall,they'llbetakentoapanicroomturnedstudy,inthecenterofthehouse.That's
wherethebulkofoureffortsareconcentrated.

Quietvoicespassbyoutsidethedoor,andIfreeze.
“Youready?”
“Yeah.Take'emdownlikenormal.Andthenbereadytodumpthebodiesoutback.8:30sharp,so

itdoesn'tspoilthelady'sdinner.Youknowthisshitisn'treallyinherneed-to-know.”

MyeyesfindCalder's.Wedon'tneednamestoknowtheymeanus.Thiswholethingistheirtrap,

too.I'vegotabulletwithSchroeder'snameonit,assoonasthisisover.

Glancinganxiouslyatthetime,werushbacktotheemptyroom,finishresettingthelocking

mechanism,andcreepbacktoourroomtogetdressed.

***

Aguardpatsusdownbeforeescortingustodinner.Calderglaresathimashishandsrestonmyhipsa
secondtoolong.Foronce,I'mrelievedforthatprotectiveness,asmuchasthisisneitherthetimeorplace
forhimtoobject.“What'reyouguysworriedabout?”Iask,withagiggle.“It'snotlikethisthinghas
pockets.”

Ididn'tdarerisktapingaguntomyself.And,ifallgoeswell,wecandothiswithoutthem.Ifit

doesn't,agunwouldn'thavesavedusanyways.LoganandNealknowtobeonhighalert,justincase
someonetriestrackingusbacktothem.They'reassafeaswecanmakethem.Andleavingourthoughts
withthosenotpresentwillonlyexposethemtothosewhoare.Iturnmyattentionbacktothebeefyman
evaluatingwhetherI'mathreat.

Heseizesmypurse,andriflesthroughitscontents.“That'salotoflipstick.”
Ishrug.“I'mprobablygonnachangemymindamilliontimesaboutwhichcolorIactuallywanton.

Ihadn'tdecidedwhenyougothere,andI'mkindaamakeupnewbie,soI'llhavetodecidethere.Ijust
shovedthemallin—”

Heoffersarandomtubetome.“Openit.”
Sosuspicious.Ipopthecapoffandtwisttheproductup,revealingaduskyrosecolor.“I'mnot

sureifIpreferthat,or—”

Iglanceatthebottomofthetubes,andopenanotherone.“Somethingbrighter.”Thisone'spure

red.

Herollshiseyes,andtradesaglancewithCalderthatplainlysays“Women.What'reyougonna

dowiththem?”

Caldershrugsback.
Heturnsonhisheelandleadsusdownthehall.CalderandItradearelievedglance.Aweekof

slidingshotgunshellsintomoldsandmeltingthepigmentoverittohideit,anditworked,wellworththe
stainedfingertips.

Ourescorttradesaglancewithanotheroneoutsidetheroom.Thesecondmanopensthedoorfor

us.MyheartracesasCaldertakesmyhandandleadsmein.Severalmen,andLucy,lookupandstand,
welcomingus.Butthey'rearmed,andsomethingintheirbroadshouldersandcantankerousexpressionsis
distinctlyunwelcoming.

Caldernods,andpretendsnottoseeit,pressingflesh.Theintroductionsflyby.
7:30.Anhouruntilwedie,ifthisgoeswrong.
Tokeepupappearances,Iglanceatmyreflectioninthemirrorabovethefireplacemantel,and

removeoneofthecontainersoflipstick,delicatelyslickinganothercoatontomypout.Calderglancesat
me.

Noone'slooking,soIslipasmanyofthelipsticktubesasIcanintothefireplace,dumpingalmost

ahandfulinbeforeInoticeLucyapproaching.Iturntowardheranddiscreetlymoveusbacktoward
Calder.Wehavealittletimewhiletheplasticcasingburns,andthemixedoil,waxandpigmentmelts
awayfromtheshells.Then—

Anoiselikegunshots,intheroom,asthemetalheatsupandthepowderinsidecombusts.Shrieks,

aseveryoneducksdown.

IcrawltowardCalder,cryingliketherestofthewomen,andnoncombatantmen.
Theescortsoutsideburstin,gunsinhandandshootingoverourheads,unsurewheretheshooter

is.Severalwindowsshatter.“Isheoutside?”

“Don'tknow.Getthemsafe,andgettheotherstotheirrooms.”
ThenextfewminutespassinaflurryasthelesserlieutenantsandmeandCalderareseparated

fromtheotherSchroedercousins.Thefamily'releadoffseparately,aswe'reshovedtheotherway,witha
handfulofthelesserlieutenantsandcollaborators.Strangelyenough,Lucy'sherdedwiththemoreselect
group—didweunderestimateexactlywhatherrelationshipwiththesyndicatewas?

Theothersallgetbacktotheirroomsfirst,andIdon'thavetoasktoknowthatwe'redeadthe

momenttheothers'regone.Thesecondthelastdoorshutsandheturnstous,CalderandIactatthesame
time.IplungeabutterknifeIsnuckoffthetableintoourguard'seyesocket,andasecondlater,Calder
wrapshisforearmsaroundtheguy'sneckfrombehind.

Ishimmymyskirtupandyankmypantiesoffforagag.Ishovethemdownhisthroatuntilhestarts

chokingonthem.Whenhestopsstruggling,Calderdropshimtothegroundandstompshisthroat.Hegets
hisshoulders,andIgethisfeet.Wehavetogobacktoourroomforourownguns,stolenfrom
Schroeder'sarmory,justincase.It'sbetteriftheothersdon'tknowwe'reloose,soIhopewedon'thaveto
usethem.

Wehauloursuitcasestothesecond-floorhallwaytheotherminorlieutenantsareshoredupin,and

Ilightthesuitcase'supholsteryonacandleleftinthehall.Thenwerunlikehelldownstairs.The
explosionringsinourears,andnodoubtflamesarealreadycatchinginthehall,withtheflammable
liquidsblownoutward.Men'syellsandwomen'sscreamsfollowus,gettinglouder,moredesperateevery
second.

Showtime.Timetoassessthedamagedonetothosebroughttothepanicroom.

Thirty-three,Calder

MyearsstillringfromMilla'strickinthediningroom,andmyblood'sstillboiling,bothfromwatching
themmanhandleher,andfromthewaythatjackass'swindpipegave.Thefighthere'ssomuchmore
seriousthanwecouldhaveguessed,andIcan'thelpbutworrywe'reunder-prepared.Whatifthetension
onMilla'strapswereoff,orifwecouldn'tgetthemanchoredwellenoughwithsimplehammerandnails?
Anyoneleftalivemust'veheardtheexplosionsupstairs.

Millaopensthedoor,lettingmepokemygunthroughandsurveyitbeforesteppingallthewayin.
Theroom'samess.Mostofthetrapsseemtohavelaunchedjustfine,makeshiftcrossbows

attachedtobookshelvesandchairarmsfiringmetalspikesthroughfleshandwood.Andseveralofthe
liquorbottles'veshatteredonthefloor,ignitingafireinoneendoftheroomwhereanelderlyman'scigar
fellfromslacklips.

There'sasoftmoan,though.Atleastonepersonisn'tdead.Millakicksankles,hergunleveled

againstchestsnotvisiblyrisingandfalling,waitingforsomeonetogaspforbreathorblink.

Atthebackoftheroom,wefindthesurvivor:Lucy,anarrowinherchestandstrugglingto

breathe.Myskingoescold,butIcan'tmusteranyemotion.Notwithhowmanylivesshe'sruined.Not
afterhowshetriedtoframemeforitall.WhateverputmeinSchroeder'ssights,sheisresponsibleforit.

“Talk.”Iaimathertemple.
Hereyeswiden.“Holyshit—I—Iknewtheythought...Ididn'tbelievethem.Cal.What'reyou—”
“Talk.Why'dyouwantmedead?”
“It—Itwasn'tlikethatatfirst.Wejustusedyourname.Nothingyouwouldn'thavedoneifwe'd

asked.Likeleavingthebabysitteracheckforpizza.”

“Bullshit.Ineverwouldhavegonealongwithit.Oryouwould'vejusttoldme.Whatwereyou

doing?”

Millaapproaches,inmyperipheralvision.Herfaceisflushedfromthehunt,thedressshowing

offherlusciousbody,untouchedbythebloodspatteringtheroom.“Calder,Ican—”

Sheputsahesitanthandonthebarrelofmygun,pushingitawayfromLucy.
“No,birdie.Notnow.Keepaneyeonthedoor.”
IgripthemetalstickingoutofLucy'sshoulderandgrinditinacircle.Sheshrieks,hernails

scrabblinguselesslyagainstmyarm.

“Whatthehellwereyoudoing?”
Thelightinhereyesdims,asshedropsanypretenseofplayingme.“Youweresupposedtobe

dead.Itwassupposedtolooklikesuicide,outofguiltforwhatyou'ddone.ThatwayKepplingwould
stopsniffingaround.”

Millaglancesatme,andImutterundermybreathforher,“Exgirlfriend.WorksattheDA's

office.”

“Shesaidsheknewyourwriting,andthosesignaturesweren'tyours.Wantedtotalktoyouabout

it.Itwouldcalltoomuchattentiontoittokillher,butifyouneversaidotherwise...Thenyouweregone,
andshedugdeeper,andwehadtotakeheroutanyways.Andyoucameback,sniffingalongthosesame
trails...whatwasIsupposedtodo?”

“Comeclean.Notsellmeoutfor—whateverthehellyougotoutofthis.”
“Hah—youdon'tunderstandanythingaboutanyofthis.”
“Wellthenyoubettermakeme,andfast.Otherwisethingsaregonnagetalotworseforyou.”
Ipickupametalboltthat'swedgeditselfintothearmofherchair,andturnitinmyfingers.Ifshe

doesn't'fessupsoon,it'sgoingthroughherhand.

“Cal—son,youcan'tbeserious—”

ToprovethatIam,Istabherhandwiththatbolt.Shewails,butit'sweak.She'slostalotofblood

already,andstabbingheragainprobablywasn'tthebestidea.

“They'dhaveexposeditall.Mykids,mygrandkids,they'dhave—”
She'scrying,butithardlyregistersasemotionsomuchasannoyance.Idon'tevenwanttoknow

anymore,andmyhandslockonherthroat.Milla'ssmallhandswraparoundmyarms,tryingtotellmeto
backoff.ButI'mhardlyincontrolanymore.Inearlydiedseveraltimesover,becausethistwo-faced
harridancaredmoreaboutherfamily'sreputationthanmine'slife.Iletonehandgotogatherbothof
Milla'soffme,andthrustheraway.

Ofcourse,mybirdie'snotsomeshrinkingviolet.Shereactsbywhackingmyshoulderwiththebutt

ofthegun,medium-force.Justenoughtohurtandtellmetobackthefuckoff.

IreleaseLucyandturntoMilla.“Now'snotthetime,love.Shenearlykilledyou.Shenearly

killedme.”

“Andyou'renevergonnabeabletolivewithyourselfifyou'retheoneresponsibleforchokingthe

lifeoutofher.”

“I'velivedwithmyselfforahelluvalotworse—”Igrowl,sendingLucymymostferociouslook.

Sheseemstooterrifiedtospeak.

“Andothershaveputyourfootonthatpathandforcedyourhand.Notnow.Idon'twantyou

walkingthatpathofyourownchoice.Letherbe,baby.You'resafe.We'resafe.That'swhatcounts,inthe
end.”

“Ineverthoughtitwouldendlikethis,”Lucysobs,soquietlythewordsbarelysinkinpastmy

rage.“Iwasstupid.IneededmoneyforJen'sfertilitytreatments,andnoonenoticed.Thenyourmomdid,
andIpromisedmyselfitwouldendwithher.Thenyoustartedaskingquestions,anditallwenttoshit.
WhatthefuckamIsupposedtoknowaboutdeadlaborers?Ijustbuiltspacesbigenoughtotheoretically
transportthem!”

Igrabforheragain,butMillatakesmylegsoutfromunderme.Icollapseonapileofrubble,and

shestraddlesme,forcingmyhandsdownandholdingmeinplace.Furiously,IbitetheonlypartofherI
canreach,myteethsinkingintoherneckdeeply.

Thetasteofherbloodinmymouthreturnssomesemblanceofsanitytome.Acurdledblendof

emotionsrangingfromthesheerjoythatstillfillsmeeverytimeItouchherandshe'salive,andamillion
differentkindsofhate,allbleedingtogether.

Herskirtridesupherthighs,exposingthestabmarksthatstillkeepmeupatnight.Andsome

animalisticpartofmybrainwhispersthatherpussy'sbare,herpantiesstillinsomeworthlessschmuck's
throatashisbodyburns.

Shepullsaway,andonlythendoInoticethetearsstreamingdownhercheeks,tracingpathsinthe

layerofgritalreadybeginningtocoatthemfromournight.Thetoothmarksonherneckdon'tmakemefeel
anybetter.

Butifshe'sshowingvulnerability,she'sshowingitbecauseshethinksit'llhelpmetoseeit.Ihate

herformanipulatingme,fortryingtosteermeawayfrommyownchoices.WhenIbiteheragain,it'son
themostly-healedbrandonhershoulder.Sheyelpsandhergripgives,foramoment.Iseizethatmoment
ofweakness,rollingherover.Still,shehooksherlegsaroundmine,tryingtotripmeshouldIgo.Andher
griplockstight.

Seeingheronthatfloor,someoneelse'sbloodtricklingtowardherback,wooddustandshrapnel

cradlingherheadandshoulders,it'sanembodimentoftheutterchaosaroundandinsideme.Ikissher
forcefully,remindingherwe'reeachother's,andthatherplaceisn'tmakingdecisionsforme.Shekisses
meback,andbitesmylip,andthenI'mlost.HernecklinetearswhenIyankit,andherfingersareonmy
zipperwithoutsomuchasawordofprompting.

She'sstilldry,notquitereadyforme,butthefrictionandburnofitonlymakesmefuckherharder.

Ineedallthepainwebothhaveinus.Ineedeverysensationtoechotheconfusioninsideme.Ineedto
putitintoaformthatmakessense.

Iguideherlegsuptomyneck,wantingtotakeherasdeeplyaspossible,andneedingtosee

myselfinsideher.NeedingtorememberthelifeI'vechosen.NottheoneIwasforcedinto.

Hercriesreleasemytension,andbleedmeofmybloodlust.She'sright.I'mnotheretoknowwhy.

I'mheresowecanleaveitbehindus.I'mheresowecanbedonewiththis,onceandforall.Sothatevery
dayIcanrolloverandpositionmyselfaboveher,andfeelherjustastightaroundmeassheisrightnow.

Thetasteofherlipsclearsawaythetasteofherblood,andmypaceslowstoatenderrhythm.I

needher.Justlikethis.Nothingelsematters.

Thirty-four,Milla

Calder'shandcradlesmyheadashepumpsintome,theslowpacesoothingpartsstillstingingfromhis
initialfuror.Icouldn'tsayforsurewhat'sinhishead,butIcouldn'tcareless,becausehe'sacceptingus
—me—asmoreimportantthanwhateverpointhewastryingtoproveinthemoment.Myheartachesfor
him,andIshowitwiththegentlestkisseswhenheleanslowenoughforhislipstobrushmine.

Idon'tfullyunderstandhim,howhecancyclefromblindragetoheartfeltpassionwithwhiplash

speed.Butthisisn'taboutme.It'sabouthim.Whoheis.Asidefromjustthemanabovemewhosethumb
isbrushingmyclitwitheverythrust.It'saboutacomplexpersonI'veonlybeenbeginningtoknow,who
stillmanagestoknockmeonmyass,andkeepupwithmeineveryway.

Once,itsurprisedmethatI'dkillforhim.ItsurprisedmethatI'ddieforhim.
Now,itsurprisesmethatIwanttolivewithhim.Forthis,forthepainhe'scausedme,andeven

morethathehasyettocause,butwill.Forthemomentsinbetween,whenthere'snohigherpurposeor
needthanaquicksmileaswebothreturnfromourdays.

Hiseyescatchmine,asmileinthemdespitethegriefpinchingtheedges.“Iloveyou,”Iwhisper,

needingthewordstocoversomuchmore.

Hegrins,andhisnextlongthrusttransformsmyexhaleintoastartledmoan.“Iknow,”hesays,and

duckshishead.Imoanagainandheechoesitinthatquietwayofhis,theonethatmakesmemelt.Theone
thatsaysthatit'snottheunconsciouskindofechothatyougetwhenyouyawninfrontofsomeone.The
moan'sforme.Foreverythinghehearsinme.Seesinme.Feelsinme.Theonethatmakesmefeellike
I'meverything,andnothing.Everythingtohim,andnothingtotheworldaroundme.

Imoanagain,louder,daringhimtoechome,andasmilebreaksoutacrosshisfaceashedoes.

Then,hemoansagain,withurgency,andhiscockflexesinsideme.Histhumbfalters,catchingmewitha
sharpflickratherthanagentlestroke.Andwiththatlittleshowofweaknessandintimacy,Iarchintohis
handforthenextstroke,andshutmyeyessotheworldaroundmecanfalltopieces,leavingonlyhim.No
corpsesoffriendsandenemies,noghostspushingtheirwaybetweenus.

Hethrustsharder,graspingdesperatelyforhisrelease.Holdingmesoclosethateventhespace

mylegsmakebetweenourchestsfadesaway.

“Calder,”Igasp,realizingthere'sanewsmellticklingmynose.Or,notanewone,butafreshone

—smoke.

Andhecomes,mynameonhistongue,andhisnamehangingintheairbetweenus.

***

“You'reapartofme.I'msorry—andItrustyoutohavesomedifferentinsight.Ishouldhavelistened.”

Caldergathersmeintohisarmsashehelpsmeup,wipingdustoffmeashecan.Oncewe'reboth

righted,andlookingsomewhatlessobviouslymid-fucking,heturnsbacktoLucy.Hereyesareblankand
clouded.Shediedwhilewewerestruggling.Iheaveasighofrelief,anddon'tmissthathedoes,too.

“Maybeyouwereright.Inthemoment,allIhadwasthepainshecaused,andhowcloseshecame

towinning.Butit'salreadysinkingbackin.Theamountoftimeshespentmentoringme,andbabysitting
me.IfIwasthinkingofthat,Idon'tthinkIcould'vedoneit.”

“It'sfine.We'vegottagetoutofherebeforetheplaceburns.AnddragSchroederinsidesohe

burnswithit.”

“Okay.AndMil?”
Iglancebacktowardhimaswemakeourwayout.“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”

Iduckmyheadwithasmile,andhispalmcatchesmybutt.“You'llmakeituptomelater.Onceit

doesn'thurttoturnmyhead.”

Helaughs,withalittleremorseinit.“Youdokindoflooklikeyou'reinazombiemovie,you

know.”

“Icanlivewiththat,”Ishrug,andhaulhisfingerstomymouthasthoughI'mabouttobitethemin

azombiestupor.

“Back—back,”helaughs,jerkinghishandaway.Icatchitanyways,andpullittomylips,onlyto

suckonhisindexfinger,tracingmytonguealongit.Hegasps,hiseyesfixedonmylips.“Icanlivewith
that.”

Westumbletoastopwhenweseethecar.Thetaillight'sbeenpunchedout,andthetrunk's

poppedopen.

“Shit,”Isay,andheslapsthesideofthecar.
“Ifhegetsout,it'sthisalloveragain.”Calderstaresatme,hisgazelovingandanalytical.“Can

youreallykillfamily?Imean,Iguessit'smoreinnameonly,butstill.Youdidn'twantmeto—”

Ithinkitthrough.Myfamily'sdead,wellandtruly.Theyhavebeenforalongtime.Andwhatever

hemeanttomymom,whateverkindnessheshowedher,itwaswashedawaythemomentheslashedher
throat.

“Arabiddog'sarabiddog,”Isay,andshrug.
“Andwe'renot?”
“Notanymore.”

Thirty-five

Thehousemust'vebeenburningalreadywhenSchroederescaped.Thegravel'snotstirredtowardalong
thepathtowardit.That'sgottameanheknewitwouldn'tbesafe,evenifhecouldfindbackupthere.But
there'sasectionofdeadbrushbowledover.Thoughhe'sgottenbetteratsomemannerofstaggeringwalk,
he'snotmovingfast,orsubtly.

CalderandImovethroughtakingmuchmorecareoveroursteps,followingtheflattenedtrail.The

manorbehindusburnsbrightlyenoughtolightourway,eventohighlightthemanpropellinghimself
backwardonhisass,guninhand,hisonlyunsplintedfingerholdingthetrigger.It'spointedatme.

Icockmyheadandraisemyowngun.Thisends.Everything.Thekilling,thenearly-dying,the

fear,themanipulation.

Calderhashisgunup.“Dropit.Youshouldknowthatthingsareonlygonnagetworseforyouif

youtakethatshot.”

“Whatthen?”Schroedercalls.“Youputonebetweenmyeyes,andstepintomyshoes,knowing

thatwhoever'sleftisgonnabehappytoplayballwithyou?Or—no.Youthinkyoucanwalkaway.You
thinkthathavingknownpower'staste,youcanturnyourbackonit.”

Calderraiseshiseyebrows.Idon'tneedadirectsignaltoknowwhathe'sgonnado.We're

extensionsofeachother,andinsomanyways,he'sutterlypredictabletome.“Youknow?IthinkIwill.”

Heshoots,andIthrowmyselftotheground.ItrustCalder'saim,butIalsodon'ttrustSchroeder's

fingernottospasmandgivehimhisshot,too.Dirtfliesupnexttome,butSchroeder'shandisalready
hittingtheground.

CalderglancesatmetomakesureI'mokay,buthisattention'salreadybackonthemanathisfeet,

rapidlybleedingout.Idustmyselfoffandapproach.Myfingersfindhis.

“It'sover.”
“Yeah.”
Heglancesattheguninhishand,andIpryitloose,releasinghisotherhandtogatherupthehem

ofmydresstoscrubhisprintsoff.“Wherewe'regoing,youwon'tneedthat.”

IdropitnexttoSchroeder,andpickupmyowngun.“Orthat.”
AndthenIturnbacktohim,leaningagainsthimandembracinghimasIdigouttheothergunhe

hasholstered.“Noneofthis.”

Hegrinsatme.“Youthinkit'llbeokay?”
“Ithinktheworld'llsortitselfoutforachange.Idon'tthinkanyofusareevergonnasetit

completelystraight.Andwe'renotgonnafuckingdietrying.”

Aweightfallsfromhisface,andheswoopsmeupintohisarmsforakiss.Idrinkinthetasteof

hisbreath,pullitallthewayintome.

Whenthesunrisesonthemansion'sashes,it'sgonnabeanewdayforWinchester,andforus.I'm

notgoingtoletthememoriesofthoseI'velostruinme—onlytheonesI'veyettomakewiththosewho're
stillhere.

“Sowhaddayathink,birdie?Blowthisjoint?Orwatchitburn.”
“Theygiveyouacigar,orsomething?Ihatethesmell,butIcanforgiveittheonce.Seemslike

there'sgottabesomethingtodowhilewewaitforittofalltoashes.”

“Acigar?Really?HereIfiguredyou'dgetcreative.Like,afineliquordistilledfrominfanttears

orsomething.”

“Eww.Godno.Thesaltwouldjustbloatme.”Ipatmystomach.“Agirl'sgottathinkofher

waistline,right?”

Heraiseshiseyebrows,andpullsmeupnexttohimonthetrunkofthecar,sowecanwatchthe

remainsofourworldburn,andheraldthebirthofanewone.

Epilogue,Calder

Avoicesoundsinthebackground,tinnyoverthespeakers.

“—amassivecrackdownoncrime,andtherevitalizationoftheWinchestereconomy.Withthe

majorityshareofRIstockpassedtotheunionandemployeesinRoane'swill,managementisintalks
torenegotiateworkingconditionsfollowingamassivestrike.Theboardrecentlysatdownwith
representativestodiscussupgradestosafetyprotocols,wageincreases,andotherimprovements.”

“Areyouready?Youpromised.Shutthatthingoffalready.”
“Youhaveatensecondstart,birdie,”Iremindher,puttinghislaptoptotheside.Aflashofcolor

catchesmyeye.“YouputonthelipstickIlike.”

Shegrins,bloodredlipshighlightingthegrimhumorinit.“Ofcourse.Ineedtobeabletosee

everywhereI'vebittenyou,comemorning.”

“Thatimpliesyouweren'tplanningonbitinghardenoughtoleaveamark.”Icockaneyebrow.“If

Ididn'tknowbetter,I'dsayyouweresweetonme.”

Likeshe'deveradmitthat.Well,outsideofeverybeaming“Iloveyou”shewhisperswhenwe

wakeupeverymorning.“Well,IneedyoutothinksobeforeImakemymove,nowdon'tI?”Shetakesa
practicedswipeatme,andIducksoitwhifflesbymyheaduselessly.Milla'sstillonetoplayrough.The
quietlifehasn'tchangedthat.

“AndhereIthoughtyou'dmadeyourmove.YouaskedLogantomakesureourpassportsshowed

usasmarried,right?”

“Pfft.I'vegotamasterplan,somewhereinhere.”Shegrins.
Itwasasurprisetome.Inouroldlives,wewereengaged,butitwasamire.Partmanipulation,

partwishfulthinking.Whenwedrovehome,leavingtheremainsofSchroeder'scrimesyndicatebehind,I
fullyexpectedournewpassportstoreflectoursolohabits,andthementaldistancewehadtofightsohard
tokeepwhileSchroederwastorturingus.ImaginemysurprisewhenLogansharedameaningfullookwith
her—nearlyearningabrokennosewhilehewasatit—andpasseduspassportswiththesamelastname.

“Oh,don'tlookatmelikethat,”shesaid.“Youtookmylastname.”
Idon'tthinkIstoppedgrinningforaweek.OratleastforseveralhoursuntilLoganinsistedon

sparringwithme,andproceededtobeatthegrinoffmyface.Thatkid'sgottagetlaid.

“AnythingfromNeal?”sheasks,pursingherlipsinthemirrortoinspectherlipline.Alsoto

remindmehowbeautifulthosecrimsonlipswouldlookwrappedaroundmycock.

“Yep.He'sdoingjustfine.Sentmepicturesofhiskid.Saystheanklebiter'sgotagirlfriend.

Personally,Ithinktheotherkidlooksbored,andjusttooyoungtocrawlawayfromhim.”

Shelaughs.“Well,hehastostartsomewhere.Evenifitiscreepyimaginingwhatexactlya

toddlerwoulddowithagirlfriendifhehadone.Pleasetellmeshe'snotwearingthoseawfulbabyhigh
heels.”

“Thoseexist?”
“Wherethere'sawill,there'saway,Iguess.I'veseen'em.”
“IfIdidn'tknowbetter,I'dthinkyouwereprocrastinating.Didyouchangeyourmind?”
“Notatall.AndIhavetenseconds.”
“Yep.Yourememberthesafeword?”
“Red.Asalways.Notthatyoucanwearmedownenoughtomakemeuseit.”Shegrins,fullof

thatwillfulpridethatonlyatruemasochistcanknow.

“Pridecomesbeforethefall,birdie.IcouldbreakyouifIdamnwellwantedto.”Iseizeherhair

andpullhertometostealthefirstofmanyred-tintedkisses.“Nowgetyourassmoving,beforeIdecide
todropyouwhereyouare.”

Sheyelpsandhigh-tailsitoutofthere,doorsslammingshutbehindher.Ishakemyheadand

remindmyselfIcan'tgoafterheryet,can'twrestleheragainstmeandholdherhandwhileIshowher
howtoshutthemnicely.Andshe'sactuallyhelpingmeout,theirnoisesaregonnaleadmerighttoher.
Fromthesounds,she'seithergonetotheupstairsbedroom,oroutthroughthegarage.Threesetsofslams,
eitherway.Andseveralunearthlylaughs,driftingbehindher.IneverthoughtI'deverhearherlaughso
much.

“Yourtime'sup.Betterhidenow,”Iyell,justincaseshepickedtheupstairsoption.AndIwend

mywaythroughourhouseafterher.Theupstairsbedroomisempty,eventhespaceunderthebed,andthe
closet,twoofherfavoritehidingspots.

Thatwillhavewidenedherlead,thecleverminx.Ichargeoutside,andlistentotheairrufflingthe

palmfronts,lookingforanysignofherbrightdressinthetreessurroundingourdriveway.

Aflashofscarletcatchesmyeye,andIwalktowardit,justslowlyenoughtobequiet,lestshe

run.Butit'sherdress,flappinginthebreezefromwhereshehungitonashrub.Ifolditovermyarm,and
listencloser,knowingthere'llbesometell.Afterall,theonlyreasonshehidesisbecauseshestillwants
tobefound.Andhelddown,strugglingeverystepoftheway.Toknowthatnomatterwhatwedotoeach
other,we'llsurvive,together.

Somesweetscent'scarriedtomeontheeveningair.Hibiscusandplumeria,oneoftheonesshe

plantednearthehouse,inmemoryofhermother,whofeltawell-kepthomeandlifemeantawell-kept
garden.Butasecondlater,it'swashedoutofmynoseandreplacedwithadifferentscent:thesmellofmy
shampoo,whichsheinsistsonusingbecauseanyIbuyforhersmell“likeastripper'swig.”

Ifollowthewindtothewaterfront,butdon'tseeanysignofherinthewaves.There'ssoft

footstepsbehindme,though.Withbarelyathought,Ipreemptherattackbyloopingmyarmaroundher
waistandtopplingbothofusbackwards.ShelaughsasthebreathgoesoutofherandIrolloff.Before
she'sgottenherbreathback,Ihaveherbuck-naked,inmyarms,andonherwaybackintothehouse.

TheredscabsthatoncemarkedeveryplaceIhurther,everyplacetheworldhurther,arereplaced

withold,whitescars.Theystandoutagainsthertan,astorywrittenincalligraphyIwishIcouldn't
understand.

Sheseizesmymomentofdistractionasanopportunity.Herhandscatchmyface,andshepullsme

upforakiss,thenbucksherhipsflexiblyenoughtomakemelosemygrip.ThemomentIdropher,she's
runningbacktowardthehouse.

Ichargeafterher,eagertotastemoreofher.EverybitIcan.Ilaunchmyselfatherassheturnsthe

cornerintothekitchen,andshefallsforward,trappedbeneathme.IdropherdressasIpinher.“It's
horriblemannerstogorunningaroundoutsidenaked,love.”

Mypalmsoundsonherass,andshegasps.“WellIhadtousesomekindofmisdirection,didn'tI?”
“Nexttime,justputonaswimsuitunderneathorsomething.”
“Where'sthefuninthat?”
Ispankheragain,admiringthereddeninghandprintsonherfullass.“Thefun'sinmenothavingto

killanyofourneighborswhentheystumbleonBathingBeauty.”

“Oh,comeon.Youcouldpullthestickoutofyourassandgonaked,too.I'dshareyou.”
“Idon'tthinkthey'dwantme.Butyou,you'reaprize.”
Iyankherhipsup'tilherweight'sonherknees,butpresshershoulderstotheground.
“You'rejustsayingthatbecauseI'mwhatyouwant.”
“Birdie,Iwantalittlepieceandquiet.Iwantaplateofwaffleswithstrawberries.Ineedevery

beautifulpieceofyoutobemine,andminealone.”

Indeed,I'malreadyhardforher;I'vebeenthinkingofthismomenteversinceshesuggestedit,last

week.We'veborneourscarsaloneforfartoolong.Butasoftonight,webearthemtogether.

Islideagainstherwetpussy,admiringhowreadyformeshealreadyis,justfrommakingme

chaseherandpretendingtostruggle.Maybeit'sjustthatsheknowsI'llalwayscomerunning.

Ifistherhairinmyfingers,admiringthesilkystrandscaughtupandcurlinginmygrip.
“Sillyman,”shewhispers,thefirstpartagasp.“Iamyours.”
SoImakehermine.Islideagainstheronemoretime,thenpenetrateherwithasinglefinger,

remindingmyselfhowperfectshe'sgonnafeelwrappedaroundme.Idon'twanttospoilthefun,though,
soIretreatjustasshe'slearnedtocravemyrhythmenoughtopushherhipsintomyfinger.

She'sdistracted,enrapturedenoughbythesensationthatsheforgetstonotpushbackthenexttime.

Andit'smyhardcockthatslidesbetweenherslickfolds,insteadofmyfinger.Ipushintoher,savoring
everydelicateflutterandgripasherbodyadjuststome,aswellasthestranglednoisethatleavesher.

HerskinblendswithmineasIlookdown,well,everythingexceptforthathandprintblooming

flushedonherskin.Andjustthinkingofthatdelicatetint,andalltheotherwaysIcouldmakeherblush.It
overridesthelastofmydesiretowait'tillater.Idon'twanttopacemyself,don'twanttofuckher'tilshe's
soreandwe'rebothbeggingforrelease.Iwantherhard,fast,andnow.Iteasemyfinger,wetwithher
arousal,aroundhertightrearentrance,andenjoythemoansthenewtouchelicits.

Tryingtopreventherfrommoving,settingupherownrhythm,it'sachallenge.Butonethatgives

mepowerfromtheundertaking.Irestoneofmyforearmsacrosshershoulders,forcinghertobestill,and
continueencouragingherbodytoopentomeallthewaywithmyhips'gentlerhythm,andlight,butever-
increasingpressurewithmyfinger.OnceI'masdeepasIwanttobe,deepenoughtofeelthenewest
movements,aswellasmyowncockworkinginherpussy,Ibeginmovingharder,buoyedbyherelated
moans.

Shewasn'tkidding,whensheimpliedshecouldtakedamnnearanythingIcouldgiveher.Icould

givehermycock,fuckthattightlittleassuntilIcouldn'ttakethesensationofit.Butforthemoment,it's
enoughjusttofeelhermove,tofeeleverybitofherclutchatme.Justthethoughtofitmakesmyhairstand
onend.

Millafucksmelikeshewasmadeforme.Andmaybeshewas,insomeforbiddencircleofhell.

ButshefucksmelikeIwasmadeforher,too.

Andrightnow,that'severything.
Itakemyarmoffherback,andalmostimmediately,she'srockingbackintome,nevermindthatit

putsmorepressureonherhair.Thosesilkystrandscutintomyfingers,andsheleansherheadforwardto
levermeharder.Justknowingthatthat'showbadshewantsme,it'senoughtosendmeovertheedge,my
cockpulsingasthecomepushesoutofme,sofastitalmosthurts.Herpussyclenchesurgentlyaroundme,
milkingeverylastdrop,andmyfinger'snearlypushedoutofherassfromthetightness,aspleasure
washesoverher.

Fuck,Iloveseeingthatgiddylittlesmile.Iloveputtingitthere.Ilovethewayshestrugglesfor

breath.

Ipullawaytocleanup,andsherollstoherbacklazily.Awetwashclothsoonputshertorights

—morethan,ifthenewmoansareanyindication.

Iputtheragonthecounterforlater,andmouthIloveyouather.Thehardpart'sstillaheadofus,

butwiththefeelofher,I'mreadyforanything.

“Comeon.Nowornever,love,”sheteases.Shesitsup,andputsoutherhandtoaskmetohelp

herup.

“Bossy,bossy.”Icatchherhandandyankitbehindmyshoulder,bendingtogettherightangleto

heftherintoafireman'slift.“We'regoing.”

There'safamiliarsmellinthebedroom,comingfromalittletoolpluggedintotheoutlet,hotand

readyforus.

“Youwannagofirst?”sheasks.“Oryouwanttodome?”
“IthoughtIjustdid.”

“Don'tyouevergettiredofthatjoke?”sheasks,butshe'ssmiling.
“Notuntilyouhave.Still,youshouldtakeme,first.”Isetherdown,andpressthebrandintoher

hands.

Shesmiles,tightly.“Iapologizeinadvance,forthepain.Andtrustme,therewillbepain.Areyou

ready?”

“Tosigntherewriteofourstories?Hellyeah.”
Shegrins,wolfishly.
See,wemighthaveretractedourclaws,andwemightnolongerpreyonothers,butwe'restill

everybitmonsters.Testing,consuming,andsparring.Perfectlymatched,andperfectlyhoned.

Shebringsthebrandtotheskinovermyheart,burningmetomycore.Isweartomyself,fighting

tokeepmyselfstill.Shewantedaprettyoutline,andifImove,it'llruinit.Itrytoremindmyselfhow
manytimessheunderwentthisforme,andthatshestillpromisedtodoitonemoretime,towearamark
that'strulymine,andmineonly.

Mineinawaythatonlythetattoosthatcrossourflesh,coveringupthescarsofawarhardwon

couldeverbe.Myshoulder'samessofpatterns,onesthatshepainstakinglysketchedourfirstweekshere.
Andherownshoulderandhipiscoveredinadesignthatresemblesvinesgrowing,seamlesslyblending
everynow-invisiblemarkIstillseeintoaworkofart.Ourbodiestellstoriesthatarenolongeretched
intooursoulsorourfutures.Soit'stimetheytoldonethatwasrelevant.

Finally,shetugsthebrandaway,andinspectsit.Shepicksupthefirstaidkitnexttoitandputsa

coolingantibioticoverit,andabandage.ButnotbeforeIseetheoutline,apristineswallow,abirdie,
layingclaimtomyheart,twitteringgaily.

“Youenjoyedthatalittletoomuch.”
“Justabit.”Shestrokesmycheek.“Youflinchsoprettily.”
“I'mnotsureIseeit.”
“Ofcourseyouwouldn't.Atleastpayback'sabitch,right?”
“Morethanalittle.Nowlieback.”
“Hmm?”
“We'redoingthismyway,right?Soyourhead'sinmylap,andyou'resmilingatme.Atleast,as

muchasit'spossibleto.Iwon'tlie—I'mnotgonnamindifyouspitatmewhileyou'redownthere.So
longasit'safterIpullitaway.”

Shelaughs,andobeysme,restingherheadonmythigh.Ikissmyfingersandstrokethescaronher

shoulder,amuchlessprettymark,andtheothersonherhipsandstomach.Ican'tquitereachherlegsto
showthemappreciation,too.

“Youdorealizethatthisisgonnabeoneweddingringyoucan'tletsomepsychopathsteal,ifyou

changeyourmind,right?”

“Asshole.”It'sstillasorespot,butthewoundgrowsdistantwithtime.“Ineverchangedmymind.

Andthatitcan'tbestolenisthereasonIdidn'twantyoutobuymeanother.You'reinmeandthroughme.
Youareme.Noprehistoricrockcouldcarryallthatweight.Nowareyoutryingtodrawthisouttofreak
meoutworse,orareyougonnadoit?”

“Impatient,”Imutter,andcheckthebrand,glancingtomakesureitstillsaysit'shotenough.

“You'resure?”

Shenods.“Toletyoumarkmeasthoroughlyoutsideasin?Ofcourse.”
Thathesitantsmile,stillbracedforpain,stallsmeforasecond.I'mhypnotizedbythecolorofher

eyes,thepatternofherfreckles,thenow-smudgedlipstick.

Shetakesadvantageofthepausetostartchicken-cluckingatme.
Iputahandoverhermouth,andarrangethebrandattheangleIwantit,thenpressitintoher

fragileflesh,listeningtothesizzle,inhalingthesmell.Temporarily,I'msomewhereelse,facingthe

enormityofthelifewewantedforeachother,andhowunattainableitseemed.

Butwe'rehere.Irunareverentfingertipacrossmyblisteringflesh,theacheofthemomentshe

gaveittomestillinmymind.AndwhenIslowlypullthebrandawayfromherandshutitoff,that
reddenedoutlinebecomesreal.Somethingpermanent,burningawaytheoldandringinginthenew.

“Now'nforever,birdie.”
Sheraisesaneyebrowinaffectionatechallenge.“Youthinkyou'vewonmethateasily?Youthink

youjustgettheeasystuffnow?Theloveandkissesandnomorebitemarks?”

No,birdie.Never.

ThankyouforreadingDeathwishandtheSirenseries,byKatiedeLong.Ifyouhavea

momentto

leaveareview

,itcouldmakeaworldofdifferenceforotherreaderslookingtoguess

whetherthey'llenjoythisdark,bloodyromance.Ifyou'reinterestedinhearingaboutmoredark
romancesfromKatie,

signuphere

toreceivenotificationsonnewreleasesandupcomingprojects.

TurnthepageforasampleofKatiedeLong'snextdarkromance,AnarchyandKisses,as

wellasanotefromtheauthor.

AnarchyandKisses

Ane wdarkromance duocomingsoonfromNe wYorkTime sbe stse lle rKatie de Long.

Love isWar.

NoonecansayCeliaIlanwasn’twarnedawayfromKrisBrant.Fromthemomenttheireyesmetinagrouptherapysession,she

knewKrisBrantwasdanger.Andshedidn'tcare.

Love ischaos.

KrisBrantisbadnews:violent,sadistic,andutterlyimmovable.Butwhenherecruitstheshyyoungwomanwithamonsterinher

eyes,hefindsastrongerallythanheevercouldhaveguessed.

AsCeliaandKris’skillerrampagegarnersmomentumandcollateraldamage,theirenemiesgatherstrength.Andwhenthetwo

terroristsarebroughtdown,theirlovemaybethefirstcasualty.

Turnthe page forane xclusive pre vie w,orsignupfor

Katie 'smailinglist

tofindoutwhe nAnarchyandKisseswillbe

available onakindle ne aryou.

AnarchyandRose s

Chapte rOne ,Ce cilia“Nila-ist”Ilan

“Excuseme,Mr.Officer—”Thewordspourfrommylipslikesensual,sensualhoney.“Areyougonna
tellmewhatI’vedone?”Ileanforward,myelbowssweepingmybreastsclosertogether,anddrawinghis
eyesdowntotheshadowbetweenthem.Onceuponatime,Iwouldhavebeenafraidtoputmyselfon
displaylikethat,butonceuponatime,mybedtimestoriesdidn’tfeaturewhipsandhandcuffs,too.

Themanacrossfrommeleansforwardinasubtleecho.Hefeelsit.Feelsmy70Wattsmile

warminghisskin,warminghisblood.Mymakeuplesseyesarelarge,toolargeformyface.He’snotthe
firsttoassociateitwithinnocence.It’sadelightfullure,onefewmencanresist.AndnomatterhowbadI
lookonpaper,italwaystakesthemabittobelieveitinperson.Evenifhe’s90%surethatI’mplaying
dumb,andthere’snowayinhellIdon’trememberhowIcametobeinhiscustody.

Thejumpsuitdoesn’tleavemuchroomforsexappeal,butitleavesroomforcognitivedissonance.

Ifidget,andpluckatthesleeveasthoughI’vejustrememberedI’minastate-issuedjumpsuit.Theshift
fromsultrytounnervedhasaneffectonmymiddle-agedcompanion.Heleansforward,thelightreflecting
offhisbadge.Theunhappygirlactgetsthemeverytime.

Twoinchescloser,andI’myankingthatdamnpinoffhimandshovingitinhiseye.
“Becarefulofthisone,”hispartnersays.“YouknowwhattheycalledherinNorthwestMental?

HelenofTroy.Youknowwhy?—”

Thefacethatlaunchedathousandships.
Themansmilingatmeshakeshishead.“Why?”
“Becausetherewasnoone—andIdomeannoonethatthiswilycuntcouldn’tincitetoariot.”
Abreathlessgiggleleavesme.Goodtimes.Myteethareondisplay,andmynewwarmfriend’s

smilefreezes,lipsjammingagainstteethinanuncomfortablerictusashereevaluatesme.“Thatso,Miss
Ilan?”

Iraisemyeyebrow,andwipethesmileoffmyface.“Oh,areyouguysstillpissedaboutthat

misunderstanding?”

“Idon’tmeanonce,either.”Thetwomenexchangeameaningfulglance.Caution.I’mgonnaget

nowherelikethis.

“Thatwasn’tme.ThatwasFlora.”Ishrug.“She’samischief-maker.”
“Nomatterhowhardyoutrytomakethatso,MissIlan,webothknowyouhaven’tgotmultiple

personalities.”Themanbythedoorsayswithaneyeroll.“Youjustactlikeit.”

Ibowmyhead,stretchingmyshouldersandarmsagainstthetableI’mchainedto.“CanI,uh,

stretchmylegs?You’vekeptmecuffedtothisthingforwhat,sixhoursnow?Ican’tfeelmy—”Irunmy
tongueacrossmylips,andglanceatmylap.OnlythendoIchangethewordfromtheonethey’rethinking.
“—Legs.”

“No,honey,”themanbythedoorsays.“Notuntilyousignthepaper.Yourconfession,and

showingyouareawareofthechargesagainstyou.”

Themanatthetableslidesasheafofpapersforward.He’splumboutofluck,though.Itearthem

withoutlooking.“Oh,baby,comeon!I’vegotareputationtoprotecthere.Thewritingistooacademic.
‘Murderinthefirstdegree,publicmenace,knowinglypremeditated-’Whatisallthat?I’mnotsigning
shituntilyoulearnthemeaningofvoice,conflict,andpacing.I’mnotputtingmynametoanystorythat’s
boring.”

Themanbythedoorlaughs.“Itoldyou,iftheythoughtthislittlebirdiewasreadytosing,they

werecrazy.Thinksheneedssomemoretimeinthepit.”

“Aww,”Ipout.“Nocockstosuckinthepit.”Ipickupthepenthatsitsnexttothetornpapers,and

raiseittomylips.Mytonguedartsouttocaresstheendofitinaslowcircle,andbothmeninhale

sharply.

Bothmenraisetheireyebrows.“Don’tyouhaveaboyfriend?KrisBrant?Whatwouldhethinkto

hearhisfaithfulladysayingthat?”

Mysmilewidens.“Pshhh.Hedon’tmind.SolongasIbiteitoffafter.”
Theirteethclacktogetherastheirmouthsslamshut,wonderinghowmuchisrealityandhowmuch

isfantasy.

“What?DoIhavebloodinmyteeth?”Iuseoneblunt-cutnailtoscrapebetweenthem,justincase.
Mr.Warmsighs,andshakeshishead.Hiscompanion,Mr.Cold,glancestowardthecamera.“I

toldyouweweren’tgonnagetanythingoutofherthatway.Thisbitchisatoughonetobreak.”

Icockmyhead.Touche.‘Course,betterthanhimhavetried.
Ithrowmyheadbackandlaugh,watchingthewayMr.Warm’sgazetravelsdownalongmythroat

andchest.MyteethclackasIleanasfarforwardasIcan,andsnapmyteethathim,likeadog.Hisskin
takesonasallowhueastheblooddrainsawayfromhischeeks.

FabriccrinklesasIleanbackintheseat.Theseguysaretoofuntomesswith.
“ThinkingofMr.Brant,”Mr.Warmtriesagain.“Whereishe?Washeintheexplosion?”
Anachebuildsinmyheart.Hewas,butI’llnevertellthemthat.ItwoulddriveithomethatI’m

here,inthisshittywarehouse-turned-blacksitefortheforeseeablefuture,inlargepartbecauseKriswon’t
beheretorescueme.

Notthistime.
Noteveragain.
AtleastifIholdmypeace,they’llstayscaredofhim.
“That’sokay.Truthbetold,Iwashopingwe’dgettokeepyoutoourselvesalittlelonger.

Remember,MissIlan,thisendswhenyoutelluswhatwewanttoknow.Untilthen,you’reours.”

Mr.Coldleansforwardtouncuffme,andtheybothescortmebacktothetinychamber

affectionatelyknownas“thepit.”

Butmyblackmood’slightenedbyonecrucialthing.
Theyforgottotakethepenawayfromme.

PreorderAnarchyandKissestoday,

here

.

FromKatie:

ThoseofyouwhoarefamiliarwithmyworkknowthatIwriteaboutsubjectsdeepandclosetomy

heart—betrayal,andmasochism,mentalillness,forgiveness,andthelimitsofwhatpeoplecantake.I'm
anavidhorrorlover,andneverimaginedtheremightbeawelcominghomeformeintheromance
community,givenmyloveofbloodythirstygreatslikeCliveBarkerandQuentinTarantino.WritingSiren
wasanexperimentforme,awayofmergingeverythingIlovedinmynon-romancefictiontasteswiththe
complex,twistedlovestoriesthatcapturedmeintheromancegenre.It'sastorythatgrippedmefromthe
momentIwrotethefirstscene,andkeptholdofmetightuntilI'dplacedthebrandsoverCamillaand
Calder'sscars.

ThankyousomuchforfollowingalongwithSiren,andIhopeyou'lljoinmeformoredark

romancesinthefuture.Already,I'mputtingthefinishingtouchesonAnarchyandKisses,abloody
doomed-lovethrillerinspiredbymyloveofanti-herocharacterssuchasHarleyQuinn,andBlackRoses,
anobsessivestoryofrevengeandsecond-chanceromance.Asalways,followmealongonsocialmedia
forsneakpeaks,releasedates,andmorefortheseprojects.

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