Page 28 of The Flame

“I know, it’s creepy,” I said. “It does feel good, though, to help those women. But that’s not why I took the job. Daniel and theheirs are due to be transferred there. I figured that’s our best shot to stage a breakout.”

“I thought you were going to use the system to save Daniel.”

“I am,” I said. “How do you think I got the job at the rehab center?”

“Georga.” He looked like he wanted to say more, then he sighed. “Have you spoken to Geneva about this again?”

“She’s released the younger boys, but she’s never going to change her mind about Daniel and the older heirs.” If I’d tried to push her harder, it would just have raised her suspicions. “She’s convinced they’re too big of a threat.”

A few beats passed. “Okay, but whatever we decide, we do this together.”

“That’s the plan.”

“I’ve been out of the loop, but tomorrow I’ll see what stance the wardens have taken on the situation.” He pulled me back into the crook of his arm. “Maybe they’re willing to persuade the Sisterhood to release the councilmen and heirs.”

“Would they have that kind of leverage?”

“They have the leverage,” Roman said. “Whether they’re willing to get involved in town politics, that remains to be seen.”

After that, I drifted into my first night of restful, uninterrupted sleep in days.

8

The following day, I made friends with a useful contact at work. That sounded worse than it was. Axel Gomez was twenty-three with short dark hair, an open, honest face, and a healthy disregard for the old regime. The more I got to know him, the more I actually liked him.

I was the only person in the staff lounge, eating a lunch of creamy mushroom pasta from the canteen. It wasn’t terrible.

I’d noticed that most of the bustling activity here occurred behind closed doors. If that’s what you could call the groups of men, some in scrubs, some in suits, that occasionally entered or exited a ward. The atmosphere seemed pretty sedate. Hushed. I didn’t know if that was normal, or if a lot of the staff had been dismissed—and I guess they’d pressed pause on most of the therapy sessions or whatever counted as rehabilitation in this place.

Anyway, there I was, twirling pasta onto my fork with one eye on the open binder beside my plate, when a dark-haired guy in pale blue scrubs entered the lounge. Pale blue meant he was a nurse.

When he saw me, he made a bee-line for my table, his widening smile pressing dimples into his round cheeks. “Georga West.”

“That’s me.” I closed the binder holding my confidential patient notes.

“Freaking Georga West,” he gushed, his voice slightly high and giddy. “I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you. Do you mind if I sit?”

He placed a hand on the back of the chair across the small table from me. His other hand clutched a paper-wrapped sandwich. “No pressure. Say no if you want to be alone. This is just so cool. I have to ask, you know?”

He’d obviously seen my face on the screens. He knew who I was. But why was he acting so weird about it? “I don’t own the chair.”

He stayed on his feet, his smile waning.

“I mean, you’re welcome to sit.”

“Oh, cool.” He pulled the chair out and sat, his smile back to full wattage. “I’m Axel, by the way. Axel Gomaz.”

“You’re a nurse?” I said. “I didn’t see you around yesterday.”

He unwrapped his sandwich. Turkey and mustard. “I’ve been working the night shift.”

“That sucks.”

“Nah, it’s cool.” He lifted the sandwich to his mouth, but didn’t bite down. “I like the graveyard shift. Not much happens, and no one’s barking orders at you. But they rotate us, one week day shift, one week night shift.”

My ears perked. “So, it gets kind of quiet here during the night?”

“Yeah, total skeleton staff.”

---