though. You belong to me, and I will hunt you down. I don’t let my property go free. See?”
With one hand, he shoved Quinn’s chin up and back. I watched, transfixed and numb, as the knife sparkled in the hologram’s lights, almost like the blade was crafted from glitter. Then he made a calm and deliberate motion across her neck. He tossed the knife in the air as the ear-to-ear slash leached a river of blood.
Carotid artery permanently damaged.
Recovery impossible.
Mortality rate: 100%.
“No!” Lucas’s gasp echoed through the supply closet while Quinn slid down and disappeared from view.
I hadn’t liked Quinn. In fact, I’d hated her for what she’d done to me, and what I did to Peyton under her influence. But that didn’t mean that I’d wanted her tortured, or dead at the hands of a madman. A madman who had no qualms harming anyone in order to get to me.
The vision of her pale throat slashed open and streaming red would be embedded in my memory forever. Permanent. Undeletable. And while I couldn’t fully experience the terror of what had happened, that respite would end any minute now.
One question pounded a repetitive warning. Who would die next?
Hologram Holland folded his arms, and stared at some vague spot between Lucas and me.
“I’m sure you know about the device by now,” he said with no expression. “If you end this little excursion and come back to me, I’d consider disarming it, you know.” He glanced down at the floor, at the lump that used to be Quinn. When he looked back up, he was smiling. “Then again, maybe I wouldn’t. I can be unpredictable like that.”
He pulled something out of his pocket while his soft laugh filled my head like a nightmare.
Then he waved the item so that we’d be sure to get a clear shot.
A small, black handheld remote.
“Maybe I should just save us all some time and start the countdown now.”
Lucas choked out “No!” as Holland’s finger hovered over the switch. One push, and two hours would be all I had left.
Transmission: Complete.
The blue light vanished, and Holland’s image disappeared. Everything around us looked dim and plain, like a gruesome murder had only happened in our overzealous imaginations.
And then the numbness released its grip.
Operating systems normalizing.
Suppressed emotions slammed through me like a swollen river released from a dam. The force buckled my knees, and I sank to the ground. I covered my mouth with both hands to stop the sobs that lodged in my throat.
Another person gone. Another death I couldn’t prevent.
Lucas stopped guarding the door and raced to my side. He knelt next to me, but didn’t speak. My sensors picked up the elevated speed of his respiration, the stuttered beat of his heart. He had to be battling his own emotions, but he waited, silently, for me to speak first.
I swallowed and parted my lips. Nothing happened. I couldn’t form any words. Not when my mind filled with red blood sprays and the crack of gunshots, the scent of sulfur and Sarah’s harsh gasps for breath. The sight of Mom’s blue eyes, closing forever.
“Mila. We should go.” Lucas’s voice was soft and coaxing, like he was talking to a wounded animal. I allowed him to lead me out of the room.
I didn’t ask him where we were going, because that didn’t seem to matter.
It rarely ever did.
I sat in the motel room that Lucas had hastily booked and stared at the white wall.
A desk supported my lower arm and hand, which Lucas had arranged palm up. He was hunched over now, playing surgeon.
The last joint of my index finger was peeled back and separated into two pieces while Lucas dug inside with the sharp blade of a pocketknife.
When I flinched, he glanced up from the mess. “I’m sorry, Holland’s nasty little surprise is buried deeper than I thought. I’ll try not to leave a big mark when I’m done. Deal?”
I didn’t bother responding. No mark could ever be as big as the permanent soul stain I’d have from watching Holland sever Quinn’s carotid.
He sighed, but didn’t say anything, just got back to work with steady hands.
I was thankful for their warmth.
Minutes passed before I heard him ask, “What’s this?” Seconds later, his head popped back up. “Good news. I can use this same wiring to install a stealth-mode switch. We’ll make it so Holland never tracks you again,” he said, before getting back to work.
“Maybe I should just turn myself in,” I blurted. The thought had been