3. Ripley
CHAPTER 3
RIPLEY
UP IN FLAMES – RUELLE
Hands braced on the edge of the bathroom sink, I stare into my hollow hazel eyes. Bloodshot. Lids drooping. Wrinkles pronounced. The brown and green swirls are overshadowed by black bruises and swelling.
I study my reflection, seeing a scared girl raising her hand, fingertips lightly dancing over each purple cloud and crusted laceration. Her eyes swim. The tears brim over, spilling down her cheeks in glistening ribbons.
“Rip?” There’s a gentle tap on the door. “Everything okay in there?”
Sucking in a breath, I quickly scrub the tears aside, ignoring the way it makes my skin ache.
“I’m f-fine, Raine.”
The door between us feels like an endless ocean, the raging torrent stopping us from clinging to each other to stay afloat until rescue comes.
“Can I come in?” he asks softly.
“I… I don’t know.”
There’s a thud, like his forehead connected with the door. After straightening my septum piercing, I fill my hands with water, sloshing it over my face in an attempt to clean the blood. Dark, russet streaks cling to my skin.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” Raine coaxes. “But if you really want to be alone, then I’ll go.”
I stare at my reflection again. The water hasn’t helped. I’m a fucking mess. Being confined to a hospital bed may have replenished my energy levels, but my entire body is now technicoloured with bruises.
I woke up to darkness after passing out then remained silently curled up for several more hours while the others bickered about what to do. It wasn’t until the shouts and cries from a nearby fight roused me that I resolved to move.
“Rip? Are you listening?”
My mouth opens.
Shuts.
Nothing comes out.
I hear Raine sigh. “Alright, loud and clear. I’ll go.”
Chest spasming, an invisible fist tightens around my bloodstained clothing and seems to drag me towards the mirror. Closer. Closer. I’m spiralling back into the numbness, the detachment. Staring at a girl I don’t even recognise.
No. I can’t let myself fall into that dark, downward spiral. There will be no way back up. My mind is too fractured and exhausted to protect itself right now—I have to hold it together.
“Wait,” I force out.
“Yeah?”
“P-Please…” My voice catches.
“Tell me what you need, Rip.”
Head lowering, I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Please don’t leave me.”
The door clicks open and shut. I hate being vulnerable. Weak. Dependent on others. It goes against everything I’ve worked so hard to build here.
Hurried footsteps approach, then hands find my shoulders. Raine searches me with his hands, banding his arms around my torso from behind in a tight embrace. A sudden, unwelcome sob tears at my chest.
“Never, guava girl,” he murmurs. “Let yourself fall apart for once. You’re safe with me.”
Behind my closed lids, all I can see is blood. Slicked across the corridor in the Z wing, evidence from a dragged body. The gore spilling from Craven’s broken skull. More blood spraying from the drill tearing into Lennox’s hand. My own blood seeping from my wrists.
“Raine,” I whimper.
“Shh, babe. I’m here.”
“N-No… We’re not safe! None of us!”
“Breathe, Rip. Come on.”
One hand splayed over my belly, he raises the other to rub my arm in slow, comforting circles. His face is buried in the nape of my neck. Each time he exhales, I feel his breath tickle my skin. It feels warm and comforting.
Heart pumping.
Lungs expanding.
Tense muscles loosening.
Each small detail offers me something to focus on. It’s a trick an old therapist suggested years back when I was first diagnosed. I haven’t struggled to scrape myself together like this for a long time.
“That’s it. Focus on me.”
“You nearly d-died from the overdose.” The air escapes my lungs like a popped balloon. “And for what? We’re going to die here anyway.”
“I just fancied a little getaway to the medical wing,” he jokes quietly. “You get to stay in bed all day, you know? They even bring you food. It’s like an all-inclusive resort.”
Another choked sob breaks out of me. “Seriously?”
“Bad joke?” Raine chuckles into my hair. “Come on. The OD is old news now. I’m getting clean.”
“It’s not old news to me.”
“You’re deflecting, Rip.”
My shivering body melts into his, seeking the reassurance of his sea salt and freshly squeezed orange scent. Raine smells like beachside breakfasts and sunshine, the perfect accompaniment to his golden boy persona.
Not many people get to see what lies beneath that deliberate facade. He’s been blind since he turned eighteen. The honeyed jewels he keeps hidden behind specialist lenses, and now my borrowed sunglasses, brim with his secrets.
Raine plays the confident jokester, but deep down, he’s broken like the rest of us. Uniquely traumatised. Lost. Clinging to vices to make him feel alive. That used to be drugs until he overdosed.
“Right now, I’m stable,” he asserts calmly. “The meds are working. So let’s focus on you and get cleaned up before Langley blows a gasket.”
“Did he send you in here?”
Raine’s head lifts from mine. “No, he’s changing Lennox’s dressings. And Xander’s looking for food.”
I wish the mention of their names didn’t cause my heart to sputter like a faltering engine. Raine knows what complications are facing us. Xander’s obsession almost killed me not so long ago, even if he did save my life before he held a knife to my throat.
What we shared that night has thrown everything into doubt. Our feud. The hatred between us. Years of resentment and violence. But now, after the Z wing and shivering in Lennox’s arms, not knowing if we’d live to see morning… well, complicated no longer cuts it.
“I can’t get the blood off,” I admit.
Slowly turning me around, his fingers trace a path upwards, finding my wet face. “You’re using cold water, babe. This crap is too dried on for that to work.”
“Am I?”
Raine’s full, thick lips quirk in a smile. “Yes.”
“Oh. I… uh, didn’t notice.”
“Here, I can help.”
Resting my tailbone against the sink, I let him take over. Raine has excellent spatial awareness, using touch and context to decipher his surroundings. I wait for him to locate the tap then test the water until it turns warm.
“Is there soap?”
Shaking my head, I realise my mistake and clear my throat. “No.”
“Hang on.” Raine inches backwards to fumble the door open. “Xander? Can you find soap? Or medical wash of some kind?”
A clipped voice responds, the seconds trickling past until footsteps near. Raine mutters a thanks, closes the door then returns to me. He’s moving carefully without his guide stick in the small space.
“Let’s hope this goes better than the time I shampooed your face instead of your hair.” He cracks another blinding smile. “You should’ve just told me.”
“I wanted to let you figure it out.”
“Enough to let me shampoo your mouth?”
Sniffling, I bite back a grin. “I guess so.”
“That’s some serious love right there, guava girl. I’m swooning.”
“Pack it in.”
“Or what?” he challenges.
“Or you won’t live to ever swoon again.”
Locating a stack of paper towels, he begins to systematically wet each folded square. His smile widens until he’s flashing pearly-white teeth.
“Ouch. I’m terrified.”
“You’re such a dumbass.” A chuckle bubbles out of me.
“There’s the laugh I was hoping to hear.”
Dumping most of the medical wash everywhere but his intended target, he lifts a wet paper towel to my face. I direct him to the bloodiest areas. Raine begins to wipe, the scent of antiseptic permeating the bathroom.
Gasping, I blink aside tears when he hits a sore cut above my eyebrow.
“Sorry, sorry.” He momentarily pulls his hand away, chewing on his cheek. “This would be easier if I could see your face.”
“Not your fault.”
“Isn’t it?” His easy smirk falls away. “I should’ve been there to stop this from happening in the first place.”
“Raine—”
“Instead, I was laid up in a hospital bed for making a stupid choice. You had no one there to protect you.”
The memory of Lennox’s body fitted to mine flashes back through my mind. His warmth seeping into me, holding hypothermia at bay long enough for the torture to end. The asshole kept me alive.
“I wasn’t alone,” I blurt.
As soon as the words have escaped, I wish I could take them back. Raine’s hand freezes, his head cocking ever so slightly, like he’s attempting to read the clues my body is giving him.
“You hate Lennox.”
My heart rate thunders. “Yes.”
Raine rolls his lips together as he thinks. “You tried to frame him for beating Noah up.”
“Yes.”
“The Z wing is exactly where you wanted him to wind up.”
“Yes.” My voice catches on the word this time, forcing me to gulp hard. “But I didn’t plan to end up in there with him.”
“Yet… You weren’t alone.” He resumes cleaning, swapping out for a new paper towel. “So what? You’re glad he was there?”
“I… I’m not… I don’t know.” I watch him toss a used, crimson-stained towel aside. “I don’t know what I feel.”
“Well, by the sounds of things, neither does he.” His voice is painfully neutral.
“This isn’t what you think it is.”
“What do I think it is, Rip?”
The bruises ringing my throat throb, feeling a pair of hands squeezing the life from my lungs. Only this time, there’s nothing choking me. Nothing but emotion—confusion, exhaustion, fear. This isn’t the time to be figuring our situation out.
“We had to look out for each other.” I try to focus my exhausted mind to explain coherently. “They tried to break us. If Lennox wasn’t there, I wouldn’t have survived.”
He tosses another used paper towel. “Does that mean all is forgiven?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Sure sounds like what you’re not saying, though.”
Eyes burning, the brewing tears return. I’ve never been much of a crier, but the barbed wire I’ve wrapped myself in for all this time isn’t keeping me safe from feeling anymore.
Now the razor-sharp barbs have turned inward, and they’re cutting deep into my soul. Tearing. Shredding. Scarring. My hatred and determination enabled me to survive Harrowdean… until now.
At the sound of my wet sniffling, Raine sighs. He ditches the last paper towel then tugs me back into his arms. I let him cradle me to his chest and stroke my back.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, pecking my temple.
“Don’t be. This is all my fault.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Noah… Nox… The Z wing… I made this mess!”
“Stop, Rip.” He plants soothing kisses against my hair. “Have we all made mistakes? Sure. Plenty. I’m not blaming you for anything. I just don’t want you to get hurt again.”
My face hidden in his hospital gown, I let the relentless tears pour free. It’s a battering waterfall, wave after wave of uncontrollable hysteria, obliterating my defences.
Years of pent-up emotion seems to be taking advantage and escaping before I can close myself off again. Raine doesn’t say another word, holding me against his undulating chest as I fall apart.
It feels like we’ve been standing here for an eternity, wrapped up in each other’s arms, when there’s a hesitant tap on the bathroom door.
“Everything okay?” Langley’s voice carries through.
“Fine. We’re coming,” Raine replies croakily.
“Xander’s sorted clothes for everyone. I’ll leave yours out here.”
Pulling myself together, I breathe deeply as I raise my head from Raine’s chest. There’s a huge, wet patch on his hospital gown where I’ve sobbed my eyes out. I swipe a hand over it, biting my lip.
“I’m a bit damp.” He smiles lopsidedly.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. So, ah… are we good?”
Raising my hands to grasp the aviators I lent him, I slide the frames off. Raine’s molten caramel eyes are unveiled, darting side to side in the unfocused way that betrays the fact that he can’t see at all.
“Was it ever in doubt?”
His cheeks flush adorably. “Maybe.”
“Why?”
“I guess it feels like I’ve got some competition now… Maybe you want to upgrade to someone with two working eyes.”
An amused smile tugs at my lips. “I’ll pass.”
“Sure?” He summons a tiny grin. “I wouldn’t be offended.”
“Positive. Your eyes work just fine for me.”
Leaning in, I move my mouth against his in a hesitant brush then retreat. Raine’s hand skates back up my shoulder, following his mental map until he cups the back of my head.
“You call that a kiss?” he teases.
I’m quickly pulled back to him, our lips crashing together. Raine’s mouth is hot on mine, his lips moving to a fast beat as his tongue pushes its way inside. He’s lit with a visceral passion that takes my breath away.
Burying a hand in his golden locks, I kiss him back just as furiously. Teeth clicking. Lips massaging. Our tongues touch and tangle in a feverish waltz. In each touch, I taste his fear, desperation, and need to fix what’s been broken.
He can’t, though.
No one can.
A hot flush of toe-curling need sweeps over me. With the pain I’m in, I didn’t think it would be possible. Yet the feel of Raine pleading with his mouth is enough to set my core alight.
Gripping his hair, I take control of the kiss. Raine backs up into the bathroom wall, trapped by my dominance. Fuck casual. Fuck whatever the hell we’ve spent months doing. I want him. I need him. I fucking missed him.
The low moan from his throat tells me just how much power I hold over him. All this time, I thought giving in to my feelings for Raine would make me weak. That allowing him to matter would expose a vulnerability.
I didn’t stop to consider the possibility that having people who care about you does entirely the opposite. It isn’t a weakness to love or be loved. Those connections are actually what make us strong.
Breaking the kiss, I press our foreheads together. Raine catches his breath, nose nudging mine as he chuckles lightly.
“Now that was a kiss.”
I huff out a breath. “Smug, much?”
“Always, babe.”
“Alright. Enough of that.”
“Just reminding you that I was here first.” He gently kisses me again, his citrus scent caressing me. “And I meant what I said before.”
“Which part?”
“That I’m not going anywhere.”
Leaving me reeling, Raine tentatively moves to the door to retrieve the clothes left for us. I suck in a breath at the thought of the two complications sitting in the medical wing. They may have something to say about Raine’s promise.
I can’t begin to fathom what either of them want from me. Xander hasn’t exactly made his intentions clear since we slept together. Not to mention the clusterfuck that’s me and Lennox.
“I can’t tell what’s yours and what’s mine,” he complains.
“Here. Let me look.”
Taking the bundle from Raine, I search through the detergent-scented clothes. There’s a pair of well-worn jeans and a t-shirt that looks around Raine’s size, then some stretchy leggings for me with a man’s shirt.
“Guessing you don’t fancy second-hand yoga pants?”
He scoffs under his breath. “I reckon I could pull them off.”
“No one needs to see that.”
“Don’t you think this ass would look good in Lycra?”
Biting my lip, I silently laugh as he strips off his medical gown, exposing slender limbs and tightly-packed abdominals that make my throat seize. He’s slimmer than the others but no less attractive.
Raine clumsily steps into the jeans, refusing to ask for my assistance. They’re much looser than his usual, tight style. Rips and scuffs mark the old denim.
“The leggings would look better,” I comment.
“Stop being a shit stirrer and strip.”
With a blonde brow cocked, he stretches out his hands in offering. I snort, stepping into his space so he can help me ease off the filthy shirt I’m still wearing. The way it clings to my skin makes me want to hurl.
Langley may have cleaned and bandaged my wrists before he hooked me up to the IV, but apparently, he didn’t dare to strip me off. I’m thankful there’s still some boundaries left between us.
“I’d kill for a shower right about now.”
“You need another sponge bath?” Raine offers.
“I need a scourer and a bottle of bleach, I think.” My gaze travels, cataloguing the bruises covering every inch of me. “At least the blood is off.”
“The hot water seems to still be working. Maybe we can find somewhere to hole up that has a shower.”
“Maybe.”
Turning back to the mirror, I study the bird’s nest on top of my head. My short, tawny ringlets are matted with sweat and blood. Cursing, I lean into the sink and transfer water from the tap onto my head.
It takes several minutes of scrubbing before the brownish stains stop swirling down the drain. Squeezing water from the semi-clean strands, I call it quits, picking up my share of the borrowed clothes.
“Be glad you can’t see me right now.”
Raine lounges against the wall, my aviators in place. “I still have my imagination. Though in that, you’re lying naked on my bed.”
“Behave.”
“Why?” he drawls.
“This is kind of a life and death scenario right now.”
Raine snickers to himself. “Is my dirty fantasy distracting you from our imminent doom?”
“Little bit, yeah.”
Pulling on clothing, I grab the scuffed pair of Converse last and shove my feet into them. I feel infinitely better after getting dressed. The monumental problems facing us feel less intimidating with clothes on.
“Ready?” Raine checks.
“Yeah. As I’ll ever be.”
He clicks open the door, holding it ajar for me to step back into the now-lit medical wing. Combing my hair with my fingers, I move my throbbing limbs, keeping my gaze averted from Langley’s stare.
While Lennox rests with his eyes closed, Xander has cleaned up too. His thin lips, exaggerated cheekbones and stony expression are now free from blood. He looks odd in old jeans and a too-big t-shirt.
“Feeling better?” Langley breaks the silence.
The cut on his forehead is now closed with Steri-Strips. His headful of thick, dark-brown hair is damp, hanging over his tanned face and fuzz-covered jawline.
Tucking wet curls behind my ears, I nod. “Yes. Thanks.”
“Listen, Rip?—”
“Who are you?”
His aquamarine eyes dart over my face, brimming with secrets. “You really want to do this now?”
“I think I’m owed some answers.”
“Ripley, look?—”
I can practically see the excuses he’s preparing to roll out. My temper flares back to life. He has no idea what he’s done.
“Are you familiar with Harrison?” I interrupt angrily. “Bald dickhead, works for Professor Craven in the Z wing?”
Langley hesitates before answering. “We’ve… met.”
“Well, he found that business card you gave me. I had it stashed in my bra before they stripped us both to torture us with hoses. We were nearly frozen to death overnight… Then that damn card.”
Xander halts searching through a box of snacks, hands freezing and head snapping in our direction. I ignore our audience as I stare into the face of a man I thought I knew. Perhaps even considered a friend.
“He dragged me into another cell and beat me with his fists until I blacked out. I refused to tell him where I’d gotten the business card from.”
Head lowering, Langley stares at his laced boots. “I’m so sorry, Rip.”
“I don’t want your apologies. Why did you give me that card?”
“To help,” he rushes to explain. “That’s all.”
“Is giving me cryptic half-truths helpful? I thought…”
Teeth clenched, I choke off my next words.
I thought we were friends.
Our roles didn’t matter—patient and protector, faceless employee and stooge. He was still the only guard to treat me like a human being. And I came to see him as something akin to a friend.
“I gave you that business card because I work for Sabre Security.”
“Wait.” Xander straightens, hands flying to his tapered hips. “The people investigating the institutes?”
Scrubbing a hand over his face, Langley sighs wearily. “We’re a private security firm specialising in criminal investigations.”
Raine shuffles on his feet behind me. “Shit. You’re really not a guard.”
“I was given an assignment in Harrowdean last year to gather intelligence.” Langley anxiously cracks his knuckles. “We’ve been investigating Incendia for a long time.”
Vindicated, I glower at him. “I was right. You’re one of them.”
He nervously glances at me. “Yeah.”
“Why are you here?”
“My job is to collect evidence. Flip key players. Line up potential informants. Anything to pin down the truth behind these institutes.”
A hot burst of sickness twists my gut. “So you’ve spent all this time pretending like you care? It was all an act?”
“No! I… I thought if you trusted me, I could turn you against management. Convince you to be our witness instead. But as time went on, I realised that you weren’t the villain in this place.”
An incredulous scoff emanates from Xander’s side of the room. I deliberately ignore him.
“You played me.” The sense of betrayal sinking into my pores practically coats my words. “I’m no saint, but you pretended to care so that I’d trust you.”
Panic flashes through his azure eyes, darting from side to side as if searching for some excuse to offer. Sure, I’ve treated him like shit. I know that. I’m not excusing or even denying it. But I never once lied to him.
“It wasn’t like that, Rip. You needed a friend.”
“And you needed a lead for your investigation!”
“No,” he balks, widening his eyes. “I wanted to help. I still do.”
Angrily swiping at the moisture that’s dared to grace my cheeks, I look away from his pleading expression. It’s pulling at goddamn heartstrings I didn’t realise I still have.
“I don’t need your help.”
“Our team can?—”
“No!” Uncontrollable rage and hurt spike through my veins. “How can I ever trust a word you say?”
He steps closer, what appears to be genuine concern shadowing his eyes. “Because I care.”
“You just admitted that you manipulated me to score yourself a star witness. Bet it came with a juicy bonus from the boss too, right?”
Focusing on anything but Langley, my gaze collides with two seafoam orbs daggering into me from across the room. The pale, blueish-green hue is as captivating as the arrogant son of a bitch daring to look at me.
Lennox is awake.
He screams something unheard without ever opening his mouth. Any remaining air is sucked from my lungs as we communicate silently, the horrors we endured together snapping between us in lingering looks.
“We can still help each other,” Langley attempts.
I forcibly tear my eyes from Lennox, pulling in a deep breath. “Forget it.”
“Listen to me, Rip!”
“Never again.”
Inching away from him, I’m suddenly itching for an escape. Somewhere to hide, far from these men. Their newfound kindness and concern expose the raw fault lines cracked across my fractured soul.
“The riot will end, and Incendia’s days are numbered,” Langley continues urgently. “You need to cut a deal while you still can.”
“Numbered?” Xander repeats. “Do you know something that we don’t?”
Langley seems to beg with his eyes. “Sabre will expose the corporation. You’ve heard what happened at Blackwood. Now this? It’s only a matter of time.”
“Good.” I hold back a violent sob.
“Who exactly do you think they’ll blame, huh?” Langley shakes his head. “I know the truth, but that won’t stop Incendia from taking down everyone with them when they go. Stooges included.”
“No one could ever blame Ripley,” Raine protests.
“You think that’ll matter to them?”
“It should!”
“We’ve all done things we’re not proud of.” Lennox speaks for the first time, his voice flaying my soul down to its bare bones. “Are you saying all our necks are on the line?”
“This will turn into a blame game very fast,” Langley confirms in disgust. “My team is already working with a group of ex-patients from Blackwood. There are criminal charges on the table.”
The white walls of the medical wing bend and contract, creeping ever closer like the bars of a prison cell slamming shut for an eternity. Terror curls in my lungs, filling them with acrid smoke.
“They’re going to bury me,” I whisper in horror.
“Not if you cooperate with us,” Langley says emphatically. “We can offer you protection.”
“She’s not going anywhere without us,” Xander announces.
His words have the impact of a killer blow to the solar plexus. I feel like I’ve been shoved into a freefall. The shock of his declaration only accelerates my rapid plummet into the bottomless pit I hoped to avoid.
I’ve gotten this far by compartmentalising the real Ripley into a deep, silent part of my mind. That mental prison is failing now. The unstable walls are collapsing with each realisation.
Worst of all? I hate how the sick tendrils of Xander’s obsession wrap around me, forming a safe cocoon. I’m not alone in this. We’re all implicated and caught in the firing line.
“Pretty sure that’s her choice.” Langley scowls at him. “Not yours.”
Xander glares back, unfazed. “You think we’re giving her a choice?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Plenty.” Xander shrugs. “Ripley stays with us. End of story.”
“So you can have another shot at killing her?” Langley says incredulously. “I don’t think so.”
“Why don’t you back off?” Lennox cuts in to defend his best friend.
Langley scoffs in disbelief. “I’ll be doing her a favour by getting her away from you both.”
“Because you’re so perfect?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Langley narrows his eyes on Lennox’s prone form. “Says the guy incarcerated for burning his grandfather to death. I’ve seen your file.”
Raine inhales sharply, whispering a curse.
Lennox’s face is partially obscured by the thick dressing covering his cheek, but I can still see the angry red haze filtering over him. My attention catches the silver chain he never removes from his neck.
The military dog tags rest against the hospital gown he’s been clothed in. After the raw emotions we shared in the Z wing, I finally understand why he’s willing to wear that disgusting heirloom.
It’s a reminder.
Lennox will do anything for those he cares about. Anything at all if it protects them from the same fate his baby sister suffered because of their grandfather’s abuse.
Beneath the rage and hatred, his modus operandi is powerful, unconditional love. Lennox beats the world bloody so it doesn’t have the opportunity to hurt his loved ones. That’s how he shows that he cares.
“Congratulations,” Lennox drawls sarcastically. “You can read words on a piece of paper.”
“Just saying. You’re in no position to talk to me about being perfect.”
“Keep running your mouth,” Lennox warns. “Go on. I dare you.”
“What are you going to do from a hospital bed, huh?”
“Uh, guys?” Raine tries to interrupt.
Lennox acts like he didn’t even hear him, too busy trying to escape the various lines tangled around him. Xander steps in to place a hand on his shoulder then shoves him back into the mattress and holds him there.
“Stay, Nox.”
“No! I’m going to pummel his fucking face!”
“You think you’re such a big man, don’t you?” Langley goads. “And now you can’t even get out of bed.”
Still struggling, Lennox flushes red despite his sickly pallor. “I don’t appreciate assholes sticking their noses where they don’t belong.”
“Guys—”
“I care about Ripley,” Langley defends hotly. “Far more than you do. I’m trying to help her.”
“By lying to her?” Lennox laughs.
“By doing my job!”
On a good day, even Langley’s physique would be no match against Lennox’s oversized bulk, packed with hardened muscle. His injuries are the only thing stopping him from beating Langley into a pulp.
Beyond the sheer size advantage he has in most fights, Lennox’s deep-lidded eyes, round jaw smothered in unshaven stubble and slightly upturned nose give him a rugged, wild-like aura of threatening power.
“Guys!” Raine’s worried voice cuts through their bickering. “Shut up for one moment and listen.”
The room is quiet enough to hear the distant echo of voices humming through the early morning light outside. Langley moves to the window to assess the surrounding grounds.
“What can you see?” Xander questions.
“Well, everyone’s awake,” he replies. “Patients are gathering outside the institute.”
“Why?” I frown at him.
“They’re marching the guards out. Got them all tied up. Some look half-dead already.”
Straining in his hospital bed, Lennox shoves Xander’s hand away. “What are they doing with them?”
“Lining them up in front of the locked gates. I can’t see who’s watching beyond the barricades, but it looks like a fucking parade.” He blows out a leaden breath. “Fuck. Harrowdean is crumbling.”
Trembling all over, I glance down at my borrowed Chucks, trying to get a handle on my emotions. The buzzing noise is back and louder than ever, a cacophony of shrill decibels cutting into my brain like miniature knives.
The guards were first to fall.
They’ll come for me next.
The sound of the guys conversing is swallowed by my foggy brain, a spiralling cyclone dragging me into the depths of destruction with it. Fisting my wet curls, the sense of acute panic rises with Langley’s words on repeat.
Harrowdean is crumbling.
I’ll be crushed beneath the rubble.
He’s right; the riot will end. When it does, everything will implode. The regime I’ve enabled was already hanging by a thread. If Sabre Security really is investigating, that means the institute will fall.
I may not be the monster behind this program, but I’m sure as fuck no angel either. I’ll burn for their sins. There’s guilt in culpability, and for every drop of suffering my fellow patients endured… I benefitted.
My gaze swings around, searching for an escape route. Reason dissipates as the instinct to run takes centre stage.
“Ripley.”
His ice-cool voice laden with an odd softness, Xander abandons his best friend to follow my retreating steps. Each time I move, he closes the distance between us.
The look on his face could almost be described as concerned. But that can’t possibly be right. I must be imagining the curve of his pale brows, the creases marring his marble forehead, all indicating fear.
“You need to stop and take a breath,” he advises, studying me intently. “This isn’t the time to make a rash decision.”
“A rash decision?” I huff out.
Head tilted, his throat bobs. “I’m not letting you run away from us this time.”
Features hard with determination, his thin lips press together. Each minuscule clue points to a far more petrifying reality beneath his stoic expression. It’s pouring through the cracks in his mask.
“You want to talk to me about rash decisions, Xander Beck?”
He opens and closes his mouth, eyes swirling with a confusing maelstrom of ice-cold detachment and red-hot anger. For once, he has no smart retort or threat to levy. Not this time.
“I became Harrowdean’s stooge to make myself untouchable. To protect myself. To honour the woman who became my family when my last relative abandoned me. I did this for her . ”
I can’t tear my eyes from Xander, the slight twitches and near-invisible tells offering a glimpse of the man behind the machine. His human alter-ego, not the soulless psychopath who runs the show.
“Why did I have to do that?” Tears spill freely down my cheeks. “Because of your rash decision .” I gesture to Lennox to include him. “Because of what you two did to survive. Because you killed her.”
“Rip–” Lennox tries to intervene.
“Do you know what the worst part is?” I cut him off.
Both men stare at me, waiting for the guillotine to slam down on their necks. They’re willingly giving me the fatal blow. Only this isn’t a victory. Not for me. The time for revenge has passed.
This admission is a soul-destroying defeat.
My greatest failure.
“I can’t even blame you.” Acceptance dampens my words into an almost-whisper. “Not anymore. Not after the things I’ve done with the exact same justification.”
I turn away from them, my prickling skin pulling tight with the urge to run. The next words hurt to utter.
“I wish I hated you both, but I don’t.”
My fate seals, setting ablaze the last crumbs of my self-respect. I flee towards the exit, unable to look at any of them for a second longer. Overlapping voices chase after me.
“Ripley!”
“Wait!”
“Rip! Stop!”
Their concerned shouts fail to slow me down. All I can focus on is the foul taste of humiliation coating my tongue, reminding me of all I’ve sacrificed… for absolutely nothing.
They still won.
And I’m as broken as they intended.