Page 84 of Uncontrolled

I wheel toward Christopher to see Zen drive her blade into the arm he’s raised to block her. His body twists. A slit gapes in his shirt as she strikes again. Blood begins to seep into the material, sticks to his skin.

“No!” I scream. I hurdle forward, knowing I won’t make it in time as she swings the knife wildly.

Christopher’s eyes meet mine. As he raises a fist skyward, helpless to ward off her blow, Zen brings down the blade.

The gash splits the length of his arm like a pomegranate.

Ploy

Zen doesn’t wait. She flips the blade, changing her hold, and catches me again, this time in the stomach. My blood sluices off the end of the blade before she buries it between my ribs. The agony in my mutilated arm is just now reaching my brain, short circuiting my reaction time.

Allie’s reaching into her bun, ripping free the pencil-like rod holding it in place. She wields them as her blond locks unravel. There’s no one to fight. Zen’s halfway down the hall, running for all she’s worth.

“Go!” Zen yells. “Hide!”

Keeley’s head of brown hair clears the step. She catches sight of Quinn, of me. Her terror melts into malice as she locks eyes with Allie. Keeley’s so concentrated on Allie she startles when Zen snags her arm to drag her down the main staircase.

“But Quinn!” I hear her argue, followed by Zen’s flat, “He’s dead.” And then Keeley’s quieter, “East? Nico?”

This time, Zen doesn’t answer.

“We can’t leave Ploy!” Keeley yells.

I don’t listen for a response. I’m bleeding to death. With my good arm, I tear a length of fabric along the bottom of my cheap T-shirt and fail miserably trying to wrap it around my flayed arm to staunch the bleeding. Another set of hands brush mine aside.

“Are you okay?’ Allie asks.

No. I don’t dare say it. Under the makeshift bandage are severed tendons, bone and fat, and bits of me that should never be exposed to daylight. Wooziness washes through me.

“Hey,” Allie says. The fear in the single word steadies me.

“I’m fine. Shoulder?” I hiss through clenched teeth. She doesn’t remotely look like she believes I’m okay, but she checks my wound anyway as I spider my fingers to the place Zen got me on the side of my stomach, the second hole she stabbed into my ribs.

At least it’s not the spleen this time, I think, and before I can help it the smallest laugh crackles from me even as Allie’s fingers stop probing.

“Barely a flesh wound,” she lies.

“Didn’t feel like much,” I say, returning the favor. The blade went deep enough to do significant damage, and we both know it.

“I’ve got to get you to a hospital,” Allie says.

When I shake my head, her expression shifts to concern.

“Look, they can fix this stuff.” She rotates my arm. Blood’s already soaked the makeshift bandage with no signs of slowing. “You’ve got one more get out of jail free card with me and I didn’t bring any of my supplies, let alone what I need to do a transfusion and—”

“No more lies.” It’s enough to cut her off mid-sentence. “We won’t make it out of here together. Not alive.”

“We will,” she insists. Shrugging herself under my good arm, she fights me to my feet. “Zen ran. She’s gone.”

“Zen’s regrouping.” It’s hard to get air. Something’s wrong in my chest. I don’t want to think about it. “She and Jamison were together. She’s not the type to back off.”

“No wonder she’s such a psycho bitch,” Allie says.

In the silence that spins between us, the unsettling sound of my dripping blood patters against the floor before soaking into the carpet.

“You were leaving town. You should be gone.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “You were supposed to hate me enough to keep you safe from Talia. How has everything gone so sideways? Didn’t you get my message from LowLow?”

She might have charged in here to protect her cluster, but she tried to make sure I was safe before she did. I hesitate. “You’re really not going to like the plan I have,” I admit.

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