Chapter 23 – COSIMA #2
Plague doesn't answer immediately, his gaze hardening, clearly weighing what he's willing to share against what might keep him alive. The silence stretches on, and my finger starts tapping against the trigger guard. If he thinks he's the one in control here, he's about to learn otherwise.
But I know Geo will take the gun if I hit Plague again, so I manage to resist. Barely.
Finally, Plague sighs as if this whole thing is a huge inconvenience to his busy schedule of... what? Coordinating security and being an uptight prick?
"It would seem you already know part of it," he says, voice pointedly neutral. "Azarel is my older brother. The second crown prince, heir to the throne of Surhiira in the event of our mother and our eldest brother's untimely demise."
"Hear that, Cos?" Nikolai's voice drips with his usual sarcasm. "You could've been a fucking princess."
I shoot him a glare that promises retribution later, then turn back to Plague. "Keep going."
Another put-upon sigh. Like I'm not holding him at gunpoint on a moving train after poisoning and kidnapping him. If there's one thing this alpha never lacks, it's fucking audacity.
"He went undercover years ago as a defector to keep an eye on the situation as it was unfolding in Reinmich.
Even I don't know all the details of his assignment.
" His jaw tightens, and for the first time, I see genuine emotion crack through that cold exterior.
"Surhiira lost contact with him months ago.
At first, it was feared he had been killed, but it would seem the role he was playing merely became his reality. "
"Are you saying Azarel actually defected from Surhiira?" Nikolai asks, leaning forward. "That he's working for Maybrecht now?"
The pain that flashes across Plague's face is gone so quickly I almost miss it. Almost. "It would seem so," he says quietly.
"Why?" Raven asks the question I can't quite form.
Plague's gaze locks onto mine, holding eye contact with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. "I imagine she would know more about that than I do."
The words hit about as hard as that pistol whip I just treated him to. I actually take a step back, the gun wavering in my suddenly unsteady hand.
"Azarel didn't tell me shit," I spit out, anger rising to cover the hurt.
"And if he betrayed his country, it wasn't for my sake.
He lied to me. About everything except his name, apparently.
Then fucked off to who knows where while I was languishing in the captivity of a wasteland megalomaniac," I say, gesturing at Nikolai with the gun. "No offense."
"None taken, little psycho," Nikolai says flatly. "But point that thing elsewhere."
Plague frowns, and there's something in his expression I can't quite read. Confusion? Concern? On him, it's hard to tell.
"He didn't end up coming for you?"
Plague's question chokes all the air out of the car.
Everyone goes dead silent. Even the train's rhythmic clacking seems to fade into the background.
I feel dread building in my chest like ice, spreading through my veins with each heartbeat.
There's a question forming on my lips that I'm terrified to ask, but I've come this far.
Dragged this merry band of degenerates into becoming international fugitives with me.
I have to know.
"What do you mean?" My voice comes out smaller than I intended.
Plague sighs, and for once, it doesn't sound condescending. Just tired.
"The plan was never to kidnap you," he explains. "We were after your husband, Monty. We intended to use him as leverage against the Council. When that failed, we took you in his stead. A bargaining chip."
My hands are shaking now, waiting for the drop. I can feel Knight shifting behind me, responding to my distress, but I can't look at him. Can't look at any of them.
"Imagine my surprise," Plague continues, "when none other than my brother came to collect."
The world tilts sideways. I want to believe him. Want it so desperately it's like a physical ache in my chest. But hope is dangerous. Hope gets you killed in this world, if not worse.
"Azarel came for me?" I hate how fucking weak I sound. Hopeful, even now. Even knowing what it's always cost me. "When?"
Plague doesn't answer immediately. Always calculating. Always trying to maintain control. "Before the war," he says carefully. "And again, when he realized we'd moved you out of Surhiira."
My heart drops into my stomach.
Was he out there looking for me the whole time? Or does he not give a shit about me anymore? Maybe I'm better off not knowing the answer, but I've already come this far. The others are watching me. Dead silent, but watching.
Might as well have an audience to my humiliation if this goes the way I'm afraid it will. What's one more indignity on the pile that's made up my existence?
"When?"
Plague looks confused. "I'm sorry?"
I take a breath, force the words out louder. "When did he come for me a second time? How long did it take for your brother to realize I'd been moved?"
The hesitation tells me everything before he even opens his mouth. That small pause, the way his eyes flicker away from mine for just a second.
"Recently," he answers carefully.
I raise the gun again. The weight of it feels strange in my hand. Off balance. "How recently?"
"Cosima," Geo begins warily, but I ignore him. All of them. I keep my gaze and my gun trained on Plague and tell myself shooting him won't fix anything. Even if they do have the same frigid pale blue eyes. Guess it runs in the family.
"A week ago, give or take," Plague answers, holding my stare without flinching. He's a calm motherfucker, I'll give him that. Calm or soulless. Hard to tell.
I'm clearly not any good at discerning the difference.
A week ago. Give or take.
Which means he knew I was out there, and he left me. Weeks of me rotting in that cell, then in Nikolai's compound. Weeks of wondering if anyone was looking for me, if anyone cared.
And he knew.
He knew.
A sharp ringing sound cuts through the silence and I gasp, bringing my hands to either side of my head to make it stop. The side of the gun digs into my temple, and I realize the sound isn't coming from outside.
Everything feels distant suddenly, like I'm watching through frosted glass.
No.
No, no, no. Not here. Not now.
"Cosima?" Raven's voice sounds wrong. Worried. He never calls me by my name.
But even that sounds foreign now. Cosima. The name feels like it belongs to someone else. Someone who wasn't stupid enough to believe in fairy tales. Someone who didn't let herself fall for the first alpha who didn't smell like decay and desperation.
The edges of my vision start to blur, that familiar darkness creeping in like ink spilled across paper.
Memories clash behind my eyes like fireworks, rapid fire, one after the other.
Azarel's rough palms, gentle on my face.
Monty's friends, their laughter and their hands on my body as sharp as knives.
The scrape of my father's pen against paper as he signed my life away.
They all blur together, past and present tangling until I can't tell what's real anymore.
The voices and sounds of the past are so much louder than the ones calling to me now.
The numbness spreads like ice through my veins, and I welcome it. Better than feeling. Better than knowing.
It was all a lie.
Every stolen kiss, every whispered promise.
And I became the very fool my mother raised me not to be.