“If you keep touching me without my permission, I will remove your hands from your body.”
I ignore that. “Shouldn’t we tell them that we’re leaving?”
Sam frowns. “Leaving?”
Nouria’s eyebrows fly up. “We?”
“We’re going to get J,” I explain. “She’s back in Oceania. James told us everything. Speaking of which— You should probably talk to him. He’s got some news about Adam you won’t like, news that I don’t care to repeat.”
“Kent betrayed all of you to save himself.”
“To save James,” I clarify, shooting Warner a dirty look. “And that was not cool, man. I just said I didn’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m trying to be efficient.”
Castle looks stunned. He says nothing. He just looks stunned.
“Talk to James,” I say. “He’ll tell you what’s happening. But Warner and I are going to catch a plane—”
“Steal a plane.”
“Right, steal a plane, before the end of the day. And, uh, you know—we’ll just go get J and be back real quick, bim bam boom.”
Nouria and Sam are staring at me like I’m an idiot.
“Bim bam boom?” Warner says.
“Yeah, you know, like”—I clap my hands together—“boom. Done. Easy.”
Warner turns away from me with a sigh.
“Wait— So, just the two of you are doing this?” Sam asks. She’s frowning.
“Honestly, the fewer, the better,” Nouria answers for me. “That way, there are fewer bodies to hide, fewer actions to coordinate. Regardless, I’d offer to come with you, but we have so many still wounded that we need to care for—and now that Amelia is dead, there’s sure to be more emotional upheaval to manage.”
Castle’s eyes light up. “While they’re going after Ella,” he says to Nouria and Sam, “and the two of you are running things here, I was thinking I’d reach out to the friends in my network. Let them know what’s happening, and that change is afoot. I can help coordinate our moves around the globe.”
“That’s a great idea,” Sam says. “Maybe we c—”
“I don’t care,” Warner says loudly, and turns for the door. “And I’m leaving now. Kishimoto, if you’re coming, keep up.”
“Right,” I say, trying to sound important. “Yup. Bye.” I shoot a quick two-finger salute at everyone and run straight for the door only to slam hard into Nazeera.
Nazeera.
Holy shit. She’s awake. She’s perfect.
She’s pissed.
“You two aren’t going anywhere without me,” she says.
ELLA
JULIETTE
I am a thief.
I stole this notebook and this pen from one of the doctors, from one of his lab coats when he wasn’t looking, and I shoved them both down my pants. This was just before he ordered those men to come and get me. The ones in the strange suits with the thick gloves and the gas masks with the foggy plastic windows hiding their eyes. They were aliens, I remember thinking. I remember thinking they must’ve been aliens because they couldn’t have been human, the ones who handcuffed my hands behind my back, the ones who strapped me to my seat. They stuck Tasers to my skin over and over for no reason other than to hear me scream but I wouldn’t. I whimpered but I never said a word. I felt the tears streak down my cheeks but I wasn’t crying.
I think it made them angry.
They slapped me awake even though my eyes were open when we arrived. Someone unstrapped me without removing my handcuffs and kicked me in both kneecaps before ordering me to rise. And I tried. I tried but I couldn’t and finally 6 hands shoved me out the door and my face was bleeding on the concrete for a while. I can’t really remember the part where they dragged me inside.
I feel cold all the time.
I feel empty, like there is nothing inside of me but this broken heart, the only organ left in this hell. I feel the bleats echo within me, I feel the thumping reverberate around my skeleton. I have a heart, says science, but I am a monster, says society. And I know it, of course I know it. I know what I’ve done. I’m not asking for sympathy.
But sometimes I think—sometimes I wonder—if I were a monster—surely, I would feel it by now?
I would feel angry and vicious and vengeful.
I’d know blind rage and bloodlust and a need for vindication.
Instead I feel an abyss within me that’s so deep, so dark I can’t see within it; I can’t see what it holds. I do not know what I am or what might happen to me.