18. Riley
RILEY
We reach the ruins and the smouldering campfire, the last few embers glowing in the dark.
Lena has already gone to sleep, huddled in something that looks like sheepskin.
Aron immediately lowers his voice to a whisper, stepping carefully to avoid any branches that could snap loudly underneath his boots.
That’s how I know that whatever twisted ideas he was getting while carrying me over here, he has abandoned them in favour of not waking Lena up.
But I also know that my relief will be short-lived.
I’m not scared so much of what will happen when we’re alone again as of what I might want to happen.
Scared of my depraved curiosity, of how little it has to do with those dark, cold hours spent in the cell, with the hunger, the despair, the overpowering need for contact, my whole bleak outlook. It runs deeper than that.
Ever since the Necromancer first emerged, I have felt drawn to him like a moth to a flame, circling closer and closer. Blinded by the ominous glow of my own doom, unable to resist even as the air around me grew so hot it burnt my wings.
He earned his fame with his first tableau—the Pond—right after I let myself be recruited by Volker. Right after ... my betrayal. And long before he told me that the latter was the direct cause of the first, I knew on a subconscious level that he was coming for me.
I have always sensed a connection between us, cosmic and inevitable. Everything that’s happening, everything he’s doing to me, it feels like it’s already happened. Like my soul is just rediscovering its twisted destiny.
And the most fucked up part of all this is that on some level, it feels so right. Like finally getting an answer to a question I’ve been asking my whole life. Like finally coming home.
The air is much cooler than during the day, humid and fragrant with dew. It quickly dissolves my drunken haze, and reality crashes into me. I’ll be back in the cage tomorrow, and fresh air will be just a memory, perhaps never to be relived again.
Aron has brought two sleeping bags from the bike, unrolling them next to each other on the ground.
“What will happen to Corrado now that Lena’s vouched for us?” I ask him in a whisper.
A smirk plays on his face, his eyes burning into me beneath the sardonic crook of his brows.
“How do you know I haven’t killed him already?”
Salt stings at the back of my constricting throat, and I swallow heavily, hoping he’ll say more. He doesn’t.
“Lie down here,” he orders me instead, indicating one of the sleeping bags.
I do as I’m told, reminding myself for the millionth time that heads-on resistance will only get me hurt and achieve absolutely nothing, that I’m smarter than to let him provoke me into doing or saying something that he could then use against me.
Once I settle down next to him, both of us lying on our sides, facing each other, he moves so fast I barely register the click of metal before I look down to discover he’s cuffed my hand to his.
I open my mouth to ask him what the fuck, but he lays a finger on my mouth, silencing me. I barely resist the temptation to bite it. But then, completely out of nowhere, I picture taking it in my mouth to suck on it like I would on ...
What is wrong with me?
“Shh, don’t wake her up.” He jerks his head in Lena’s direction. “She needs her sleep.”
The worried lines around his eyes are a shock to me. I’ve been completely unprepared for the depth of empathy bleeding into his gaze. It makes me realise that others may know him as a completely different person. A man I’ll never meet. One who cares and protects. One who loves.
It’s like his shield of rage has fallen off, to reveal the person he was before. I’ve been noticing moments like these in him more often. Moments when it might still be possible to reach the man in the monster.
“Why the cuffs?”
“What do you think? No fucking way am I giving you a chance to bolt in the middle of the night. I have better things to do tomorrow than to look all over for you.” His voice is low and harsh, but there is a defensive note in his tone—like he’s compensating for a moment of weakness I shouldn’t have seen.
“Aron,” I address him instead of responding, so quietly that barely any sound slips past my lips. “This can’t go on forever.”
“This can go on however long I want it to,” he counters, all remnants of his earlier kindness gone. “Now shut up unless you want me to gag you.”
I have to bite my lip to stop a sob from clawing its way up my throat. Why do I feel like crying? It must be the alcohol.
My chin wobbles and my eyes well up.
And to make it worse, Aron sees it. He freezes in surprise at first. But then the clench of his jaw lets up, stern lines in his face smoothing away. And just for a heartbeat, it’s almost like his eyes reflect my own misery.
The sun is rising, and I’m thinking about the people on the other side of the Rift, seeing the new day dawn over those ominous craters.
Do they ever think about us? Do they know what it’s like here? Is life any better for them?
Or is it just hopeless everywhere?
“It was lovely meeting you, honey,” Lena’s voice draws me away from my thoughts: raspy, strained, like there’s something lodged in her vocal cords.
She clears her throat before pulling me in for a hug.
“You too!” I mumble into her shoulder.
She glances around, scanning our surroundings: the ashes and charred remains of last night’s campfire, and the ruins, sentinels of a bygone era. Aron’s nowhere in the vicinity. He’s putting our sleeping bags and equipment away. We can speak freely.
“I hope so too, honey.” She studies my face. “Can I give you a bit of advice?”
I nod, encouraging her with a smile.
“You’ve got a pretty face and a belting body.
He’s already drooling all over you, even if it would kill him to admit it.
” I open my mouth to protest, but she talks over me.
“All you’ve got to do is grab him by his cock like it’s a steering rod and guide him to a place where common sense still exists. ”
I burst out laughing, shaking my head.
“At least think about it, okay?” Lena chuckles too before growing serious.
“I will talk to Tristan, the chief resistance commander, about you. But I need to get to him first. And even when I do ...” She sighs heavily.
“Aron is a loose cannon, totally uncontrollable. He was a good man, once, a long time ago. But too many things happened that pushed him over the edge. He’s too volatile now, stubborn and fucking dangerous.
He does whatever he wants and constantly drives Tristan up the wall.
There’s no telling him what to do. But Retrograde completes more ops in the region than several other groups put together.
The only reason Tristan hasn’t cut him off. Yet.”
Vague worry twists in my belly. I know too well what it’s like to tread a thin line between being useful and being a liability to someone holding your life in their hands.
“All I’m saying is ... like it or not, getting in his pants may be your best bet,” she finishes pragmatically, like she’s talking about gardening tools.
Then I’m fucked, I think grimly.
To change the subject, I consider asking her what got her into scavenging. But I decide against it, not wanting to be insensitive. People rarely have happy reasons for willingly shortening their lifespans.
Before I can think of another topic, Aron joins us.
“We’re going,” he barks at me, but his tone and expression change with the speed of a coin flip when he turns to Lena. “Take care of yourself, alright? You know how to get in touch if you need anything.”
Here it is again, a glimpse of a different man than the one I know. Curiosity burns in my chest, my heart is racing for absolutely no reason, and my knees go weak.
“Heh. What I need from you”—Lena flicks his nose, and he chuckles, if a little uneasily—“is for you to save your compassion for where it’s actually needed, yeah?
” she tells him pointedly, and he narrows his eyes at her with a knowing smirk, even before she says, “I’m telling Tristan about Riley.
I’m going to get him to intervene. I suggest you pull your head out of your ass before he pays you a visit. ”
“Tell him I said hi,” he sneers.
Before he leads me away with his hand on the small of my back, Lena wraps her arms around me, whispering in my ear, “Give him hell, angel.”