25. Sharkie
Date: 5-16-2024
Time: 1324
If I want to be inconspicuous, it’s nearly impossible. Each corner of the hall flashes with small red lights, watching my every move. If I don’t want Caspian knowing where I’m at or what I’m doing I might be out of luck, why did I ever think a uniform cap could disguise me in this place?
Each set of eyes lingers too long, setting my teeth on edge, and ramping up my already high adrenaline. Karma is here. It was hard to focus on that fact when everything seemed scrambled in my head.
Is Dutton here too? All of Bay’s finest lurking in the shadows just waiting for the right time?
The air around me sticks to my skin like another layer, chilling with each step down the stairs making goosebumps line the flesh. I catch myself looking over my shoulder, waiting for a Tide to appear from the walls. I haven't heard him, seen him, or even felt him. Come to think of it, the halls are emptier than they should be. I know Depth is still here though.
Turning into the first room I find; I take in the small rickety old desk that looks like it can collapse with the slightest amount of added weight. Searching all corners of the room for a small flashing red light, once I see it’s clear, I hurry in. The paint chips from the walls, adding to the uneasy feeling turning in my stomach. I shouldn’t be here. I have to, though.
Shifting through the filing cabinets, I look over numerous captives’ belongings, steadying my breathing so my heart doesn’t burst through my chest while I search for any form of key. Surely there’s a master card somewhere that’ll allow me to get into any room I need. From what I’ve noticed, the tech here is similar to Bays, just less advanced, sticking to the things they know best, which means I don’t have to worry about fingerprints or retina scans as I do at home. Good, because I don’t fancy causing a scene by cutting off an unsuspecting person’s finger or jabbing out their eye.
The desk creaks under my fingertips as I support my weight to crouch down and search the drawers. Glancing to the doorway, I hold my breath, waiting to be caught, but the only sound is the muffled pacing behind the closed barriers lining the hall.
Breathe .
I’ve done this plenty of times before without a problem. I can do it now.
Sitting back on my heels, I push a strand of my hair back into the cap. They’re not idiots here, I’ve learned that, but they also don’t suspect anyone to go snooping under their noses. Where could it be?
Pulling out a drawer on the opposite side, I find it empty compared to the others, with no files or wrappers, just the grainy wood lining the bottom. Bingo . Gliding my fingers along the back, I feel a splintered piece, giving just enough room for me to raise it. It pops, unclasping from whatever barrier that was holding it back, exposing files without labels and a thin metal rectangle with a barcode filling the space.
Shutting the opening with ease, I survey the room, making sure I don’t leave a thing out of place. It is easier to breathe, but there is still a constriction around my chest that makes it difficult for me to think properly. I wish it would just go away.
Leaning against the wall, I peek into the hall, checking for moving bodies only to find it empty, allowing me to keep my steps steady. I wouldn’t be able to forget how many spaces the door of my destination was if I wanted to. It'll forever haunt me knowing it was the spot where any dreams I had left, died. Pressing the small card to the scan bar, I wait for the click and a little green dot to appear.
My skin itches as I rush into the room, but I keep my composure slowly closing the barrier behind me. It’s not hard to see the full extent of the small room. Yet I don’t see her .
Something’s off instincts send blaring alarms in my head, warning me of danger. Snapping my head to the side, my fingers catch in the space left by Karma's arm wrapping around my neck, providing some sort of boundary, but my windpipe feels crushed, unable to allow a full breath of air.
“If it isn’t the little traitor,” Karma breathes into my ear, “I knew you’d come to see me.”
She tightens her grip, giving me little time to process how she dips her fingers into my pocket, pulling the key out. I feel scrambled, where I typically feel the adrenaline. When the hell did she learn this?
I need to think. She releases me, shoving my back which forces me to stumble forwards. Finding my footing, I turn, pinning my arm to her neck, pushing her against the wall tight enough she claws at my forearm, trying to push me off. Her face turns as red as her hair, with a cruel smirk stretching her lips. She’s gone fucking insane. She knows what I can do.
“Oh, don’t be like this, Cordi. It’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” She rasps, tilting her head up, trying to pull in a full breath. A snarl curls my lips. That ridiculous nickname.
“What the fuck is your problem? I was coming to get you.” I spit the words, pulling my arm enough to let her catch a breath, only to push it back again tighter.
“I’m not leaving until he’s dead, and this place is burned to the ground. Unlike you, I complete my operations.”
A shallow gasp punctuates each word. I push my knee into her thigh, rendering her immobile. This is my teammate, the woman who’s been in my ear since my first op, never steering me in the wrong direction, watching my back every time. My head pounds, blurring my vision as if I’m the one being starved for air.
I don’t know her.
The voices in my head are too loud, making me drop my hold and stumble back.
“I always accomplish my assignments...” I say to myself more than her, trying to remember the person I once was. Where I came from. Everything still feels so jumbled, playing in my head like abstract artwork, morphing familiar faces with monsters.
“Good, because if you don’t...” she pauses, forcing me to look at her cold gray eyes. Her hand is rubbing along her neck, using the other to flip the key between her fingers in a steady motion. “I’ll just do it myself.”
I don’t doubt it. She’s not the nerd I confided my deepest secrets or darkest fears into. Her shoulders shrug nonchalantly, letting a heavy, exaggerated sigh fall between us.
“Maybe before I put a bullet in his head, I can test out the product. It’s gotta be good if it got the perfect little soldier to turn.”
Tension bunches in my muscles, making my bones ache from the suffocating feeling. Acid burns my tongue at the thought. As if I’d ever let her touch him. This is my mission.
Breathe Sharkie.
Keeping my line of sight on her, I head towards the door, motioning at the scanner.
“I’ll handle it. I need to leave though so he doesn’t suspect anything.” I state calmly, making her shoot a wary look. She slaps the card to the reader, quickly jerking it away. I nod.
“Just stay here for a little while, no need to raise alarms.” I continue to speak, finding my footing.
“Sharkie?”
“What.”
“There’s a vial. If you can’t complete it, do us a favor and make your body one less for us to handle.”
Ignoring her statement, I move to slam the door behind me.
“Just look for my tampon!”
Her words echo into the hall through the closed barrier, setting my teeth on edge. Fucking disgusting. Fucking smart .
Going the same path I came, I returned to the daunting room, searching the cabinets again for her stuff. Sure enough, there’s a wrapped tampon. I didn’t know we manufactured this level of items. I guess there’s a lot I don’t know, though.
Taking a once over the room, I ensure everything’s in place while I adjust my hair into my cap. It’s a miracle I’m not seen rushing to our... Tides room. Peeking in the doorway, he’s nowhere to be seen. My hands shake at my sides, forcing me to clutch them against my abdomen, searching for any sign of him being there. Yet there’s none. For such a shitty day, I’ve gotten beyond lucky. So, sitting on the edge of the bed, my knuckles turn white against the sheets, as I stare at the entryway like he’ll burst through at any moment.
Every scenario spirals in my head like a spider spinning its web. Slit throat is an option. I pull Tide’s blade from the waistband, twisting it between my fingers as I think. I could overpower him. I’ve done it once before; I can do it again but that would be too messy, so I tuck the knife back into my pants. Suffocation? No, adrenaline will kick in. It’d be too much of a fight. A bullet between his eyes would be simple. I shake my head, trying to rid the image of him before me, bringing the barrel to his chest. Too loud.
I can just use the poison. Yeah, that’ll work, be less of a mess, and be easy to accomplish. He trusts me enough, I can easily slip it into something, and he’ll be able to go peacefully, without any pain. But why does that matter to me?
Date: 5-16-2024
Time: 2036
My head hits the ground, jolting me awake, the covers tangled around my legs, and the room dimmer than I remember. I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep, but I do know that falling off the bed is just the icing on the damn cake for this day.
I groan, rubbing the back of my head in hopes of relieving the throbbing of my temples. Just as I go to stand, large, calloused hands engulf my biceps, and an overwhelming smell of cigar smoke invades my senses. I cough, waving my hands, trying to free myself.
“Shit, I’m sorry, love. Hold on.”
Prying my eyes open to the sound, I see Caspian hurrying to put out the burning tobacco on the bottom of his boot. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smoke one. I’ve always smelt it, though. His hands are back on me in an instant, running over my arms and face, looking for any injury. I try to look around. What time is it? Better yet, how much time do I have left? I didn’t expect an adrenaline crash to hit me hard enough; it had me passing out unexpectedly.
“Hey, look at me. What the hell just happened?” He breathes out, forcing me to glance in his direction as he pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. I’ll give it to him. He’s good at what he does, but I'm better.
“Well, I fell off the bed and now here we are.” I explain sarcastically as I push his hands away. My throat constricts from swallowing. Why does this feel hard?
“I see even the fall didn’t knock the smart-arse out of you.” He mumbles with a ghost of a smirk on his lips. I hate his stupid pretty face so much it hurts. I shift to pulling the blanket off my legs as he sits back on his heels. Letting out a heavy sigh, I steal a glance at him, contemplating what I want to say.
Play your part and complete your mission.
“At least I’m not a manipulative asshole.” It’s hypocritical for me to say. I’m no better than him at this point. His brows furrow at me like I’ve lost my mind. I’m convinced I lost it long ago.
“I’m not apologizing.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m so tired of arguing and fighting. It’s been my whole life. I don’t blame him; I’m not apologizing either. We are just the products of everything wrong. It would never last. The world is bloodshed made for shark bait. He kisses my head, letting his mouth linger longer than my heart needs.
“I’m going to take a shower, then I can fix all of this, okay?”
I nod once in response; thankful he didn’t ask me to join him. I’ve never had a problem with hiding my emotions or pushing any feelings back, but right now I’m teetering on the edge of a cliff between what I have to do and this odd feeling burning its way through my chest. I don’t need him distracting me.
He retreats to the bathroom, leaving the door cracked enough that I can make out the motions of each article of clothing, leaving his body neatly tossed into the hamper. Taking a breath, I head to the kitchen, shifting through the cabinets until I find tea pouches. I’ve never made the stuff, but if I find something he likes, maybe he’ll see it as a peace treaty more than a cover.
The kettle rests on the counter still plugged into the wall with a smudged fingerprint still on the button from the last time he used it.
The sound of water hitting his skin distracts my thoughts while my hands move in numb motions, carrying me through the unusual task. Once everything is warm, and neatly poured into a glass, I pull the tampon from my pants with a shaky hand, disgusted at the way I have to push the applicator for the vial to appear.
Breathe .
Things have been screwy since I held a knife to his neck, but everything after has felt all too natural, whether it’s been stupid bickering or small moments meant only for us. The clear liquid stares back at me, urging me to fulfill my mission to end everything once and for all. I shake my head like it’s an etched sketch, hoping it can wipe his smile from my memories long enough for me to tilt my hand. If he was lying he did a beautiful job. It felt real, unlike everything else in my life.
The shower stops with my heart. I’ve never had this much trouble. It’s alarming how normal taking lives has become, but not as worrisome as knowing that I can't take his. My tongue darts out to wet my bottom lip. I can do this. So I count to two, letting only a small amount pour into the mug. The liquid drizzles just enough that the strong scent has me biting back a gag silently praying he can't smell it through the tea.
The shower curtain makes an ungodly noise against the rail. My heart thumps in my ears, making me dizzy. Opening a cabinet, I set the vial at the back. Then I see the devil himself, standing in the bathroom frame with a towel wrapped low around his waist and that stupid confused look on his face.
“Can we go back to bed?” I ask, hardly recognizing my voice holding out the mug to him. His eyes soften the slightest bit, lightening the dark, mesmerizing green with each step he takes in my direction. I’ve never felt sorry for many things in my life. If I do something, it's for a reason. But this moment right here makes the word sing through my veins, wishing to spill from my lips. His fingers brush mine, taking the cup, swallowing a healthy drink, making my heart fall into the pit of my stomach.
It’s better by my hands than anyone else’s.
“Of course.” His face sours even as he tries to conceal himself by turning his head to set the cup down and taking my hand. What if I’ve always been wrong?
Curling in the sheets, I stay in my fatigues, thankful he does not question me while he puts on a pair of boxers, making the bed dip, pulling my body close. His breathing is even, calm, fingers brushing through my hair, catching a tangle every once in a while. If only it stayed like this forever.
“I did something I've never done and went through my fathers' private diaries today. All the things I've been wondering were there, scrawled in his writing. I should’ve done it sooner, I know that now.” I tilt my head on his chest with my brows pulled low in confusion.
“You know why your parents were heading here? It was just supposed to be a meeting–a pit stop before they went to wander the countries ‘protect the land’. They liked checking in on him from what he wrote.” He continues wrapping his other arm around me so he can better adjust himself on his side.
“Oh?” I run my finger over his chest, watching his muscles flex from the motion, distracting myself with the steady movement from the churning in my stomach.
“When the first ship sank, he called Bay and suggested a meeting. He knew something was wrong. He was a well-organized man willing to fight but he didn’t want to play dirty anymore, per my mother’s request.” A smile stretches his lips but doesn't reach his eyes. I know the look of missing someone close because I wear it all too much. His expression turns solemn as he lets out a heavy breath. “He had me wait at the edge of the base while they talked. Wanted me to learn how to handle situations like that without interference despite my protest. Things got heated and the next thing I knew, he was lying motionless on the ground...” My hand stills, feeling the rapid thump beneath my fingers mirroring my heart rate.
I’d been wrong this whole time.
“I should’ve gone after the man, but I couldn’t leave him there, so I sat with him until his blood soaked through the sand.” He presses his lips to my head, but I know it’s more of a movement to comfort himself than me. “It took me a while to realize it was just a setup to make it look like we had sunk the ship. My father was just collateral damage.”
“Did you ever find out who it was?” I ask, even though I already know. He shakes his head as he pulls back and looks at the ceiling.
“Red.” His soft murmur pulls my attention to the way his eyes droop shut.
I can’t do this.