CHAPTER 29
ZANE
Mia sleeps beside me, and I watch her in fear.
She’s in pain. She’s weak. Too weak.
I finally understand what she meant about being unconscious—it’s like slipping in and out of a void, never fully aware, never in control. They feed me, but I don’t see it. I was unconscious most of the time.
Nico thinks Mia will give in. That she’ll break. That she’ll attack me.
But she won’t.
I know she won’t.
She’s shaking, her hands curled into fists so tight her knuckles go white. Her breathing is uneven, ragged, like she’s swallowing back a scream that’s clawing to get out. I see it in her eyes—the war raging inside her. The weight of it pressing down on her chest, making her ribs feel like they’ll crack under the pressure.
She could do it. She could make it stop. Give in, lash out, make the pain shift from inside her to somewhere else, someone else.
But she won’t.
Because it’s me.
And it’s fucking killing her.
He’s going to kill her… slowly. And make me watch.
It’s cruel. It’s sick. A fat tear threatens to slip down my face, but I look away, forcing myself to keep it together. I can’t fall apart.
Not now. That’s when I see it—the little chain I kept, tucked away like a memory of something that once felt safe. Back when things were still good. I slip it over my fingers, pressing it against my palm, searching for something—anything—to hold onto. A clicking noise startles me for a second, but nothing happens. The necklace stays the same.
Damn.
Nico said Paulina recognized me the second she saw me. It didn’t take much for him to figure out the disguise I’d been perfecting for the past month. I should’ve been smarter. Should’ve seen this coming. But all I could think about was getting Mia out.
And she wouldn’t leave without Katie.
Shit.
It’s been a week. A full week of this hell. I count the days in my head, my thoughts spiraling. A human body can survive without food for a maximum of fifty days, three days without water. If they keep giving Mia water every two days, she has forty-three days left before her body gives out completely.
I rummage through the dark, my hands shaking, my breathing uneven. There has to be something. Something sharp. Something I can use. My fingers scrape against the floor, against metal, against nothing. My chest tightens. Every second I waste, she’s slipping further away.
Then I see it.
A shard of glass, jagged and glinting under the dim light. I grab it without thinking, the edge biting into my palm. It’s not enough. I need more.
I bring it down against the ground—hard. The sound of shattering fills the space, sharp and final, like breaking bone. Splinters scatter, thin and cruel, and I don’t hesitate. I reach for the biggest one, ignoring the sting, ignoring the blood welling up as I press it to my skin.
If I have to bleed for her, I will.
If I have to give a part of myself to keep her breathing, then it’s already hers.
I barely get the shard to my arm before cold fingers clamp around my wrist. Weak, trembling, but unrelenting.
"Don’t," she breathes, her voice so fragile I almost don’t hear it.
I try to pull away, but she won’t let me. Her grip is weak, but it’s desperate. Her nails press into my skin, her entire body shaking.
"You need it," I tell her, voice rough, my throat raw.
"I won’t," she whispers, her eyes wide and wet. "I can’t."
Her face is pale, her lips cracked, her breath uneven. And yet, she’s looking at me like I’m the one dying. Like I’m the one she’s afraid of losing.
"I’d rather die than see you bleed for me."
The words dig into me deeper than any blade ever could.
I swallow hard, my grip on the shard loosening. Her fingers tighten around my wrist, her entire body curled toward mine, like she can hold me together if she just tries hard enough.
"If you die, I die," I whisper. And I mean it.
A breath shudders out of her, broken and heavy, and something inside me fractures when I see the way her tears slip down her face, the way she’s clinging to me like I’m slipping away.
The shard falls from my hand, landing between us with a quiet, deadly sound.
She collapses against me, her breath warm against my skin, her body so small, so fragile.
I wrap my arms around her, pressing my face into her hair, breathing her in, grounding myself in her warmth.
I was ready to tear myself apart for her.
“I can feel your head burning, Zane.”
Her voice is weak, but it cuts through the haze in my mind. I turn my attention back to her, tightening my grip around her frail body.
“Rest, Mia,” I murmur, pressing my lips to her forehead.
She exhales softly but doesn’t let it go. “You know what my father told you about eating people?”
My chest tightens. “Mia…”
“I don’t remember much,” she says, her voice barely more than a breath. “But I know I did it. I remember the hunger, the way they left me starving for days on purpose. I remember them whispering to me, telling me lies about how that person had hurt my brother. I remember the anger… and then everything is a blur.”
“They probably deserved that fate,” I said, my voice low.
“Yeah, probably…” she whispered, a faint, tired smile crossing her lips. She looked like she could barely keep her eyes open. “It’s a pity. I always fantasized about killing Dr. Icaza before dying. I think he won this round.”
I smiled, watching her try to stay awake, her body sinking deeper into the mattress.
“I wouldn’t be so sure…” I murmured.
She blinked slowly, struggling to focus on me. Confusion flickered across her face before it shifted — realization hitting her like a slow, heavy wave.
“You… you were the one killing them,” she breathed. Her voice cracked slightly. “That explains why you got sick all the time.”
I leaned closer, brushing a hand lightly over her hair, feeling how drained she was.
“I killed everyone who hurt you and lived,” I said, the words coming out rougher than I intended.
She stared at me like I was something unreal — something bigger than life. Her fingers, weak and trembling, curled into my shirt like she didn’t want to let go.
“That’s… actually sweet,” she murmured.
Her eyes flutter closed, and her body sags against mine. Panic claws at my ribs, and I force myself to keep talking, to keep her with me.
“When I first met you, I was scared shitless that you were going to kill me.”
“You seemed so calm,” she whispers, her lips barely moving. “I think that’s when I fell in love with you. Because you exude peace.”
I let out a hollow laugh. “I wasn’t calm. I was shitting my pants. But if you were actually going to kill me, I knew it would be for a damn good reason. I mean… I put you in a coma.”
“I don’t care,” she murmurs, her words slipping between exhaustion and something softer. “In the end, I won you over.”
“Fuck, Mia…”
“I think I’m dying, Zane.” Her voice wavers, small and distant. “My body is so tired.”
Her skin is cold. Too cold. It gives me goosebumps.
I rub my hands over her arms, trying to warm her, but it’s no use. She’s wasting away in front of me, getting smaller and smaller, like she’s slipping through my fingers and I can’t hold on.
Panic shreds through me. I tighten my arms around her, as if I can physically keep her here, as if my own body heat could bring her back. “No, you’re not going to die,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “Even if I have to cut off a piece of myself and feed it to you.”
She lets out a weak, breathy laugh. “Stop saying things like that… It’s macabre.”
I press my forehead against hers, squeezing my eyes shut as a sharp, suffocating ache takes hold of my chest. I can’t lose her.
I don’t know how to exist without her.
“Stay with me,” I beg, my voice almost breaking.
And then—footsteps.
My head jerks up, my body going rigid. The door creaks open, and a silhouette stands against the dim hallway light. My muscles coil, my heartbeat thudding in my ears.
Long, curly blonde hair. Wide blue eyes.
She freezes. I freeze. The shock is mutual.
“T-Taylor?” My voice comes out hoarse, disbelieving.
She blinks rapidly, like she’s seeing a ghost. And maybe she is. Maybe I am. She looks different. Harder. But then her eyes flick to Mia in my arms, and something shifts. Shock turns into steel.
“We’re getting you out of here,” she says, stepping forward.
“We?” I echo, confusion flickering through me.
And then something moves from the shadows.
My stomach drops.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t fucking find my sister?”
Seth.
Mia stirs at the sound of his voice. A rush of adrenaline jolts through her, but she’s too weak to do anything more than mumble his name.
“You focus on them,” Taylor tells Seth, her voice clipped and precise. “I’ll meet you outside.”
Seth doesn’t respond, just steps past her and punches a code into the basement lock. The door opens with a metallic click, and he grumbles under his breath.
“I hated this place.” His sharp eyes flick around the room, disgust curling at his lips. “Can’t believe he brought you back here.”
Then his gaze lands on Mia, and something dark and unreadable flickers in his expression. He looks her over with clinical precision, scanning her body, calculating.
“We don’t have much time,” he mutters. “Let’s get you out of here.”
I nod and try to stand, but my body betrays me. My legs buckle, and I stumble. I’m fucking useless.
Seth sighs, already moving. “You’re going to have to walk, Zane. I need to carry Mia—she’s barely conscious.”
“I will,” I promise, forcing myself upright. “Mia comes and goes. She’s weak.”
Seth curses under his breath. “What the fuck happened to her?”
“They’re starving her,” I say, my voice hollow. “Trying to push her past her breaking point. They want her to kill me.”
His jaw clenches. “Fuck.”
He scoops Mia into his arms like she weighs nothing. His grip is firm but careful. Protective. His eyes flick to mine, and I expect the usual sharpness, the usual bite. But what I see there instead is something else. Something raw.
“I’m not leaving you here to die,” he mutters. “Because that would make her sad.”
Then his voice drops lower, colder. “But I’m not making you my priority, either. Hold on tight, because if they come for us, I’ll choose Mia.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”
And then we move.
I expected that. It doesn’t offend me. If anything, it reassures me.
"I want you to choose Mia," I say without hesitation. "Don't you dare look back. You're getting her out of here. If I can't follow, you make sure she gets to safety."
Seth pauses. His eyes lock onto mine, as if recalibrating something he thought he knew about me.
Then, after a beat, he nods. A decision made. A reassessment. He slides a gun into my palm, the cold weight of it grounding me, a reminder that I’m still in this fight—even if my body is betraying me.
We move. Every step is agony. The cast on my leg turns each motion into a fresh reminder of how weak I am right now. But pain is irrelevant. I just have to keep going.
The smell of blood hits first.
Then the bodies.
Guard after guard sprawled on the ground. Some with neat, surgical holes in their skulls, others with jagged, brutal slashes—flesh torn apart like paper. The concrete is slick with dark pools, the air thick with copper and death.
No wonder they’re twins. Both lethal. The way they kill is grotesque. Efficient. Fascinating.
No sign of Nico.
"Nico's not here," Seth murmurs, reading my thoughts. "But he'll be here soon, so we move. Now."
He picks up the pace. I try to match him, but my body resists. My leg burns, every nerve screaming.
Then—
Footsteps.
Too close.
Before I can react, one of the guards—one I assumed was dead—lurches upright. Blood-soaked, staggering, but his eyes burn with fury. He sees me. Sees my weakness.
And he’s right.
He lunges.
I try to lift the gun, but I’m too slow. He crashes into me, and the impact sends me sprawling. My head slams against concrete, the world shattering into white noise. My lungs seize. The gun slips from my grasp.
The glint of his blade is the last thing I see before it comes down—
Bang.
His skull bursts open. A splatter of red. Warm blood sprays across my face, thick and metallic.
Seth lowers his gun, his gaze razor-sharp.
"You shouldn’t have come back," I say, my voice raw, breathless. "You should’ve focused on Mia."
My pulse is still erratic, my body still trembling.
Seth extends a hand. I don’t hesitate. I take it.
I hate this. Hate the weakness. The vulnerability. The fact that I let myself slip.
But then Seth says something that stops me cold.
"Mia wouldn’t live if you didn’t. Then this whole mission would be for nothing."
I don’t respond. I can’t.
We push forward. My head spins, my body screams in protest, but I force myself onward. The night air crashes against my skin as we break free from the building.
And then—I see the car.
Pietro is behind the wheel, face unreadable, but there’s relief in the way his shoulders shift.
The back door is already open.
Seth places Mia inside. Not gently. Just fast.
I slide in after her, my leg on fire, my mind still trying to keep up.
Only when the door shuts, enclosing us in a cocoon of silence, do I finally release the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
My chest rises and falls. The adrenaline still hums under my skin.
But now—now we’re safe.
MIA
"You're not Laura," I whisper as Seth lowers me onto the seat. My body feels like it's made of lead, but I manage a weak smile.
"No, I'm not."
"You came to save me."
"Of course I came to save you. You think I spent weeks watching you make stupid decisions and lying to my face for nothing?"
"You knew."
"Of course I knew, Mia." His voice is sharp, frustrated, but there's something else under it—something raw. "You're going to be okay now. Just hold on a little longer."
"I will," I murmur.
A new voice cuts through the haze.
"I'm a little offended, little sis, that you trusted our little sister to save you and not me."
"Our little sister is smarter than you, crybaby," I mumble, my lips barely forming the words. Everything feels distant—like I’m slipping in and out of my own body. Seth shoves a water bottle into my hands. My fingers are clumsy, shaking, but I drink, each drop like life itself.
My stomach twists. My body feels foggy, unsteady, too heavy to hold itself together.
I feel it all coming back, rising like a wave about to crash over me. But I force myself to hold on.
"Not to ruin the touching sibling moment," Pietro interjects, voice sharp, "but we need to get the hell out of here. Now."
"I came with Taylor, remember?" Seth says, turning to him.
Pietro snorts. "Shit. You're gonna have to choose, Evans."
Seth doesn’t hesitate. "I need to get Taylor out of here. You take Mia and Zane to safety."
"Seth," Pietro says, and there’s something in his tone—something heavy, something that almost sounds like regret. But maybe I'm too far gone to understand it. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"It's the only way! Now go!"
I exhale, the sound barely audible. "Don't die."
"I'm not dying," Seth says, voice shifting—darker, reckless, alive in a way that sends a shiver through me. "I'm gonna have fun."
Then, he leans in close, his breath warm against my ear.
"Tell her I’ll find her, no matter where. She’s mine."
I don’t have the strength to ask who he means. I barely have the strength to process the words before the door slams shut, and we’re moving.
Pietro drives. The world outside blurs.
And finally, finally, I let my eyes close. Let the exhaustion take over. Let my body rest.