Page 81 of Burn Like An Angel

His breath rattles down the line. “We’ve had plenty of hoax calls. Prove to me you’re trustworthy.”

“Trustworthy?” I check to ensure that no one is listening. “What about the trust put in a faceless corporation to protect the unwell? Or the trust put in you to bring them to justice? Don’t talk to me about fucking trust.”

“I’m in a position to help if you have information,” he tries to placate. “This is a fast-moving situation, and I understand several patients from Harrowdean remain unaccounted for. Are you one of them?”

“What, amongst the dead bodies Incendia has piled up?” I laugh hollowly. “They’re hunting us with helicopters and guns. How do I knowyou’retrustworthy?”

His sigh stretches across several seconds. Bad day at the office, clearly. If Theodore is looking for a shred of sympathy, he better not hold his breath. I’m willing to cooperate, but only for the right price.

“We can offer protection,” Theodore replies. “Will that earn your trust?”

“Empty words won’t. We’ve heard this spiel before, and it amounted to nothing in the end. I need assurances this time.”

“I’m not sure I can give that to you over the phone. We should arrange to meet at a rendezvous point. My superiors will want to hear your testimony.”

“So you can hand us over to Bancroft and take his hush money? I’ll pass.”

His voice drops to a low whisper. “Off the record, that evil bastard Bancroft is going to get what’s coming to him. I’ll personally see to it. The pink-haired woman? She’s dead. He’s going to pay for that.”

Ah.His reaction is an emotional one. Curious indeed. That would’ve repulsed me before. Now I find myself wondering how I would react in similar circumstances. If Ripley’s death would impact me so viscerally.

Agony constricts my lungs at the thought.

Grief? Fear? Regret?

It’s exhausting, telling all these emotions apart.

“I have others who deserve to be included in this decision,” I eventually concede. “We will discuss your offer. How can I reach you?”

Theodore rattles off a phone number, different from the public line I found online. I quickly tap it into the spare phone and end the call before he can utter another word. Another SIM card snapped and discarded.

Shoving everything into the overflowing backpack, I haul ass to leave the internet cafe. If he’s committed to earning our trust, Theodore won’t follow the location my call inevitably gave his team.

I make it back to our hideout far quicker than my trek into the nearest town, skin prickling with the need to lay eyes on the three people I left behind.

Shoulders aching from the weight of the goods I’m hauling back, the holiday park is still deserted when I arrive. It will be for another month or two. Even though we boarded over the smashed window with several cardboard boxes I found, we can’t stay much longer. It’s too risky.

I knock on the door three times then twice more. There’s a wait as footsteps move inside. The curtain twitches, showing Lennox’s tired face before he clicks the lock to allow me inside.

“Fuck, Xan. You’ve been gone for hours.”

“It’s not exactly around the corner,” I grumble while stepping in.

“We were getting worried.”

In the cramped living area, Ripley lays on the retro, flower-print sofa with her legs stretched over Raine. He’s fiddling with those ridiculous sunglasses he wears, the pair clearly mid-conversation.

“Xan,” she breathes a sigh of relief. “All clear?”

“Yeah, no trouble. Just a long walk.”

“Did you find what you need?”

“Enough to restock and get us online.”

I reach into the full backpack to pull out a grease-stained paper bag. Ripley squeaks when the paper bag sails through the air and collides with her chest. The smell of baked goods permeates the cramped space.

“What is this?”

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