Page 19 of Uncontrolled

“Does it,” she deadpans.

It’s in her heavy pause after that I realize what she’s implying. I’m asking questions. I know too much.

Talia wants me dead. To her, I’ll always be a risk not worth taking.

“Lucky for me, no one gets to play God,” I tell her.

“Every resurrection, I play God. I decide who lives and who dies.” Her voice is logical, cold. In another life, Talia would’ve made a nightmare of a serial killer. “Allie played God when she brought you back,” she says. “And she played God when she forced me to let you walk out of that cellar alive.” Her attention shifts to Allie. “You get what I meant? Why he’s trouble?”

I’m guessing her questions are in reference to whatever they discussed while they were working out. I knew they’d be talking about me but it still sucks. I’m expecting Allie to stick up for me or tell Talia to back off.

“He shouldn’t be involved in this at all,” she says instead.

“So get rid of him!” Talia yells.

Allie cringes. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”

Confused, I watch her bolt for the door before she whips toward us. Her gaze on Talia is steely enough that the other girl flinches. “Never threaten him again.”

“I’m just giving him crap,” Talia says, clearly taken aback. “He knows I didn’t mean—”

“He knows exactly what you meant and so do I,” Allie says, each word a stab in the room’s silence. She goes for the knob and slams the door behind her. I listen to the sound of her pounding down the stairs outside, uncertain what to do.

“Welp,” Talia says, as she heads toward the small kitchen and clunks her cup into the sink. “Highlighting your flaws certainly struck a nerve.”

“Don’t make her choose between us.” I’m not sure why I say it. The instant I do, I know it’s a mistake.

Talia sniffs in disbelief. “You can’t think she’ll pick you.”

“No,” I say, weighing my response. “She needs both of us.”

“She doesn’t need you,” Talia says as she comes back into the living room.

“I’m worried about her,” I admit. “She’s not sleeping. Zoning out. Her nerves are fried. She doesn’t want to resurrect anymore. She doesn’t want to be in charge.”

My gaze slips to the pictures on the wall as I feel Talia reassessing me.

With a hard sigh, she leans against the edge of the couch. “This is literally in her blood. It’s not something she can walk away from. Her mother raised her to lead. Sarah dropped the ball, I’ll give you that, but it’s a setback Allie’s going to overcome.” The tension in her eases. “People don’t always get to choose the lives they want for themselves.”

I scoff, thinking of the Boxcar Camp. “Pretty sure I’m a shining example to prove your point.”

To my surprise, she nods along as I’m talking. “Can you see it’s not a bad thing to have a future laid out? A purpose to fulfill? You’ve seen that side of her. You’ve seen what she can do when she’s pushed.”

My jaw flexes. “You’re pushing her too hard, Talia. Her parents were—”

There you are, I think, spotting the picture of the guy I saw following me yesterday. I start to raise my finger to identify him.

“Allie’s tougher than you give her credit for,” Talia says, and her tone stops my hand. “You heard the stories about what she’s been through, but I was there, Ploy. Allie will come around. She just needs to catch her breath.”

“After Jamison, she isn’t—”

Talia barks a laugh. “You think I haven’t lost sleep over what happened in that cellar? I didn’t wallow in my trauma because someone needed to step up until Allie gets sorted. You’re distracting her.” She pauses, and in the space between sentences, anger burns through what’s left of her tirade. “I’m tired, too,” she says, annunciating each word. “I’d love to look the other way and pretend these hunters are simply curious about us. But who’s picking up the blame when another Fissure’s Whipp resurrectionist goes missing?”

“Is that going to be your life then?” I ask. “Standing behind Allie and shoving her in the direction she needs to go?”

“Who else?” Her voice is a quiet threat. “You?”

Me.

---