Page 15 of Uncontrolled

“Allie?” My name wavers. He runs a hand through the mess of his hair. It’s longer at the top, mussed from whatever he got up to today. “I think… No, I am… I’m in—I should’ve told you before. I was going to, but I—” His eyes hopscotch between mine before dropping to the barely attached stick-on tiles of the floor. He shakes his head as if talking himself out of whatever he wants to say.

Dread puddles inside me. “What’s wrong?”

He freezes, staring at me for a long second before a decision breaks across his face. “I was followed today,” he blurts. “By a hunter.”

It’s so far from anything I’m expecting that for a moment, I don’t respond and then my mouth snaps into play, the questions rushing from me. “Are you okay? How did they know who you were? What did they want? Did you talk to them?”

Even as the questions are tumbling from me, I’m taking him by the arm, inspecting him for wounds as if I’ll find a bloody mess I somehow missed.

“I’m fine,” he assures me before he leans against the counter. “I swear. I’m fine.”

This time, my mind spits.

“I went downtown so I could earn some cash spanging. Spare changing,” he clarifies at my blank look. “It’s how I got the food money. I ran into a friend of mine, LowLow, from the Boxcar Camp, and he spotted the guy following me and tipped me off. I tried to confront the dude but—”

“You what?” I gasp, horrified.

“I was going to ask him who he was,” he says, clearly unnerved by my reaction.

I’m squeezing his arm too tight.

“Allie.” He pries himself loose of my grip. “I’m okay.”

His lips recoil in what he means to be a smile of reassurance. It’s more of a grimace. In my head, I envision Sarah’s body on the floor of her living room, her mouth screwed into a scream, her bloody corpse stiff and dead and poisoned beyond resurrection.

Christopher catches my elbow to keep me from dropping as my knees wobble.

“Hey!” he says, startled. He gets me to my unsteady feet and moves one hand to the side of my jaw as he forces my eyes to his. “Take a breath.”

I stagger an inhale and then swallow the air. It could have been him. My throat goes tight. I’m gasping, but only managing the tiniest sips of oxygen. So much air and I can’t get any of it. All I can see is Sarah, her intestines ripped from her insides, a rigored scream peeling her lips.

Christopher’s fingers thread through mine as he moves my palm to his rib cage. Under it is the steady beat of his heart. His chest rises and falls. I mimic the motion, my own breath shallow before the second attempt evens a bit.

“Better,” he whispers. “One more.”

I lean against him, my forehead seeking the warmth of his skin where it bleeds through his shirt. “This didn’t use to happen,” I manage.

I take another breath. Another. Under my palm, under every bit of him I’m pressed against, I feel that heartbeat. He leaves my hand on his chest as his arms come around me to crush us together.

“I’ve got you.” The promise rumbles through him. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

“But you,” I say. “Hunters? You’re sure?”

At first, I think he won’t answer. “Fairly sure.”

“You saw him? You’d recognize him?” I ask as he finally releases me.

He nods, watching me until he seems satisfied I’m okay. “I got a good look at him.”

Talia’s words, a mantra in my head. You need to make some serious moves here real damn soon.

The hunters are following Christopher. I was never naïve enough to believe we’d get away scot-free. Every day I didn’t act was a dangerous roll of the dice. But their blown cover means we can find them. Christopher can identify whoever he saw. It’s a start.

Without another word to him, I slide my phone from my pocket. Talia answers just before it cuts over to voicemail.

“Hey,” I say before she gets through her greeting. “You were right. We need to talk about the hunters.”

Ploy

---