Page 82 of Uncontrolled

Not only am I free, I think as I draw one of the sharpened sticks holding my bun in place, I’m armed.

I wasn’t faking my fear at the mention of the Doctor. I’m not sure it’s a bluff, but if it is, how could the hunters know about him? The Doctor is the exact sort of mad geneticist my parents warned me about if I told our secrets, but he’s always been more urban legend than threat; the resurrectionist version of Bloody Mary. Even at eighteen though, I’m not saying Bloody Mary’s name into dark mirrors, and I’m definitely not sticking around to discover if the Doctor crawled free of my childhood nightmares.

I should run down the stairs I came up, slide through the side door, and never look back. Except the youngest of the hunters took my vial. If the Doctor gets hold of it, he could analyze what’s in it and make an antidote. We’ll have no way to protect the blood.

I take an extra second to rub my wrists where the cuts are the worst and admit to myself why I’m stalling.

Christopher is downstairs. I can’t leave him.

They’ve caught him in lies. The curses I spat at him while Nico tethered me felt over the top and too late. If I go missing and the bounty evaporates, he’ll suffer the punishment.

Okay, I tell myself. No part of my plan has changed. Isolate each of the hunters and kill them off one by one. Christopher and I can get free of here and I’ll warn him about Talia, and then we can go our separate ways. We’ll be square.

A key rattles in the lock. There’s no time to hide, so I hold the hair stick in front of me like a shiv. The door opens. Christopher slithers through and closes it behind him before he stands facing the hallway without looking at me, his forehead pressed against the wood. When he raises his hands to either side of him on the door, his knuckles are blood crusted. Thick smears drip down his arms.

“You’re hurt!” I’m on my feet and almost to him before he rotates to catch me. His hold tightens until it’s painful. Whatever happened to him in the five minutes I spent in here alone, something’s very wrong. “It’s not your blood,” I say as I lean away from him.

There’s too much unsaid between us for the look to last long. He’s the first to break contact. “Figured you could use a rescue,” he says. As he moves out of my embrace, his fingers graze my wrists. “Should have known better.”

“I’m getting to be an expert at escaping,” I joke, but the humor falls flat. All I can think about is our fight, the terrible things I said. Does he know I did it to protect him?

“This Doctor guy who’s on his way, he’s bad news, isn’t he?”

I muster up a nod.

“We’ve got to get you out of here then,” Christopher says. “He’s not getting more resurrectionist blood.” He pauses when he catches sight of my expression. “Right?”

I’m momentarily taken aback. He knows what matters to me. He understands it’s not just my life at stake and the brutal consequences to my kind if I fail.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt, overcome. “I freaked last night. I was wrong, and I was mean and I was selfish and I don’t know how to do thi—”

His kiss cuts off my apology before he knocks his forehead lightly against mine. His brown eyes bore into me. “I love you,” he says.

“What?” The word comes out of me a confused sort of warning, not a proper question. I expect him to freeze, or rethink, or retreat the way he’s always done in the past.

“I love you,” he says again. “I should have told you when I knew. I should have told you the night Jamison killed Brandon.”

A tiny noise of disbelief breaks from me before I can stop it. Impossible. Could he love me so long and not say anything?

“I was a coward,” he says. “I kept waiting to be good enough for you, to change into the person you seem to see. I can’t wait anymore, Allie. I’m afraid I’ll die without ever getting to tell you how much I love you.” He glances around the derelict room. “Even though this isn’t the perfect moment, or the perfect place.”

Despite the gore, I lean into his touch before I can help myself. We weren’t supposed to have more of these moments. I want to tell him I was wrong, and I love him, too, and he’s all I’ve ever wanted for myself. Except the things I love end up buried. End up burned. End up charred remains I have to sift through rubble to find.

“I’m not going to be perfect. I wouldn’t know how to start.” His voice breaks. He swallows before he can get the last words out. “But I’ll try so hard,” he whispers, and this time the room blurs as I turn from him to hide my face.

His touch urges my gaze back to him. When he goes on, his voice trembles with gravity. “Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it. I swear to God I’ll never keep anything from you again.” His next sentence is so quiet, I almost miss it. “There’s only you, Allie.”

The knot inside me tightens. I don’t love him. I don’t. I can’t.

“Say something.” His words are part hope, part prayer.

These seconds are costing us. We could escape and instead we’re spilling our hearts in ways too dangerous to not have consequences.

“Don’t you ever,” I snarl and his eyes widen. “Ever think I only kept you around because you were useful to me. Not before. Not now.” I’m done fighting this. His jaw in my hands, I drop a kiss on the tip of his nose. “I sent you away because I didn’t want you hurt. And I kept you close for so long because I love you, too.”

It’s a dare to the universe. Happiness is a jinx. Love, only a trap set to spring, crush me with a broken heart. But not now. Not yet.

Not with him.

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