Page 47 of Obliterated
Not. At. All.
Tass props her elbow on the counter on my left, chin in her palm, flipping her knife lazily in the other hand. “So Roe’s really not moving on this? Not even after we shoved the evidence in his face?”
I drown the last of my drink, glass hitting the bar hard, eyes still pinned on the bastard at the other end.
“He said it’s not enough,” I say, voicing his words, the very thing I already suspected. “It’s proof that we’re on the right track, but not enough to get her thrown off the council and into the Pit.”
Sami huffs a laugh, fiddling with another camera on my other side. He says this one canfilmthings. “Not enough? You broke into her gilded nest and found the fucking machine.”
“Yeah. And Roe says without ironclad proof she’s forging identities, making disappearances official, the Nine won’t risk it.” I bite down on the inside of my cheek, jaw tight, my eyes following Kieran as he puts a row of drinks onto a tray, too close to that fucker’s reach. “She’ll just spin it, call it a backup. Responsible leadership. Insurance in case the real press breaks down.”
Tass snorts, drives her knife into the wood hard enough to carve a chunk out of it, then yanks it free with a chuckle. “Backup, my perfect ass.”
I barely hear her. My focus is locked on the other end of the bar where Goatee’s mouth’s moving too close to Kieran’s ear as he leers at him. Saying something to my man, making him flinch.
Oh, fuck no.
My pulse spikes, that beast in my chest clawing at its cage. One wrong move and I’ll cross the room, drag him outside, and let everyone watch while I tear his fucking throat out.
The look he throws my way is proof enough. He’s expecting it,wantsit, waits for me to snap.
He’s lucky that Kieran moves over to us next, placing fresh drinks in front of us, or I would’ve snapped. My hand’s itching to touch his from where he has it on the bar right next to mine, my fingers fucking twitching, and the little smirk he gives me tells me he knows it.
“So. What’s up next in your grand plan to bring Joyeus down?”
He’s too damn loud. I flick a glare his way. He doesn’t back down, raises his brows with a smile curving around his lips. Those alluring, addictive lips.
“Easy,” I say, voice flat, “we keep digging. Joyeus didn’t get this far by being sloppy. She’s careful. Covers her tracks. We need something she can’t talk her way out of.”
Sami butts in, drumming a finger on his glass. “Most of the tags you photographed had the Health and Medicine department stamped on them as their workplace. Might be staff from the clinic here, perhaps the northern research station. That’s no coincidence.” He flicks a look at me. “Might be time for a trip north. And you’re due for another shot, anyway.”
My jaw ticks. I say nothing, still too fucking agitated because of that fucker. Thewantto make someone bleed worms through me, slow and steady, like a muscle that remembers how to tear.
Tass grins, snapping her knife shut. “Oh, that’s right. Time for another poke in your pretty veins.”
I don’t miss Kieran’s frown, those blue eyes folding with worry and a question he won’t voice out loud.
“They want my blood every now and then for research,” I explain and slide my hand next up to his, pinkies touching, notbeing able to help myself. The small contact is enough to remove some of the pent up frustration on an exhale. “It’s standard procedure. I’m not the only Immune who ever lived. Just the only one left breathing on this island.”
Something flickers in his gaze. He leans in closer, voice lower now. “Back where I came from, I heard of others like you. Immune. But they took them away for testing, for a cure, and they never came back. My mom said they did… horrible things.”
Tass snickers. “And yet here you are, lover boy, cozying up to the local science project.”
Kieran shoots her a look, opens his mouth, but I cut him off before he can respond, grab the new drink he made. “What did he want?”
He knows exactly who I mean, flushes like he’s embarrassed, fingers worrying a napkin. “He… he asked if I’m as good as my mother. Said he can’t wait to find out. Said he’d buy me a drink, take me upstairs, ‘test’ me himself.”
The glass fucking shatters.
Kieran’s there before I even register it, fingers going for the shard buried in my palm. The pain is only half-there, a hot, distant pulse under the roar in my ears.
My gaze cuts to the bastard who thinks he can say shit like that to what’smineand keep breathing. Most of the room glanced our way when the glass broke, quickly going back to their own business.
But not him. He keeps staring. Smirking.
I narrow my fucking eyes.
Kieran works the glass free, and I don’t so much as flinch, don’t dare to move. Then he presses the napkin he’d been holding against my hand.
