The Masked Truth(23)

“Unless you’re a doctor,” I say, “the best thing we can do for him is get those cell phones. Lorenzo said two kids brought theirs.”

A slow nod. “Aaron tried to smuggle his in, but I found it while his driver was still there, and I gave it back. Maria brought hers by accident. It’s with the meds.”

“Brilliant,” Max says. “Now where are the meds?”

Aimee looks at Lorenzo. “You had them.”

“Right,” he says slowly. “But I gave them to you. You’re in charge of everything the kids brought, including the meds and that cell phone.”

She blinks hard. “Yes. Of course. Sorry.”

“Aimee …” Lorenzo says when she stops. “Take Max and Riley to the cell phone. They can handle it from there.”

His lips quirk, as if there’s irony in that: the messed-up therapy kids taking charge.

“I’ve been through something like this,” I say. “I’m inoculated.”

Max laughs at that, a snort that he cuts short. Lorenzo allows himself a chuckle, as if not quite willing to go as far as admitting it’s funny. From Aimee’s expression, she thinks I’ve lost it, like I’m on that brink of running screaming down the hall. Which is probably true, but I latch on to Max’s laugh. It relaxes me, as does the grin he shoots as a follow-up.

“All right, then,” Max says. “Let’s get on with it.” He cranks up his accent another notch. “Tallyho, and all that.”

“What does that even mean?” I say. “Tallyho?”

“No idea,” he whispers as he walks past, and I laugh then, a small one, choked back.

Before I leave, I bend at Lorenzo’s side and reach for his bloodied hand, and when he resists, I take it anyway, and I squeeze it, and say, “Hang in there,” and he says, “Whatever that means,” and we exchange a real smile before I go.





CHAPTER 10


Gray and Predator are stalking us. We can hear them as we creep along the hall.

I ask about the other kids as soon as we’re in the corridor. Aimee confirms that Brienne and Aaron escaped the therapy room.

“Together?” I ask.

“I … I don’t know. It all happened so fast. I was trying to help Gideon.”

“Gideon? What happened?”

“He was shot. Right as you two escaped. I stayed with him, and he was still alive, along with the guy he shot. Then they—the kidnappers—went after Aaron, and I ran for help, and maybe I should have stayed with Gideon, but he was so far gone …”

“And Maria?” I ask.

She shakes her head, and my gut clenches and I want to say, Are you sure? Really sure? But her expression leaves no doubt, and I turn away, hiding my grief as we continue walking.

There’s silence until we’re around the next corner. Then she says, “I keep telling myself this isn’t happening. That I’m hallucinating or delusional. That I’ve lost my mind and—” She stops short and her gaze swings to Max, who stiffens, his lips pressing together in a hard line. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“We aren’t in therapy right now, Aimee,” he says. “No one’s concerned with word choices. But we should probably be quiet. We can talk it all out later.”

“Which way, then?” I say. “Where are the meds?”

“Back in the therapy room.”

“Bloody hell,” Max says, exhaling a hiss through his teeth. “Could you have mentioned that?”

“I … I’m having trouble focusing.”

“Are you sure that’s where the phone is too?” I ask. “We don’t want to risk going back to the therapy room if we don’t have to. Not if that other guy is still alive and can raise the alarm.”

“I … I think Maria’s phone is upstairs, actually. With my things. Unless …” She straightens. “It’s either in the therapy room or upstairs. I’m sure of that.”

I resist the urge to echo Max’s bloody hell.

“But the mobiles they took from you and Lorenzo should be in the therapy room,” Max says. “With the meds.”

Aimee’s eyes go round. “Right, you need your—”

“Meds.” He looks at me. “For my condition. Heart thing.”

I look over sharply. “What?”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m not going to keel over on you. I should just have them. In case.”

“You definitely need—” Aimee begins, but he cuts her off with a look, obviously not wanting her to make a big deal of it. Which means it is a big deal. He needs his medication, almost as much as we need a phone.

“We’ll go back to the therapy room, then,” I say. “We’ll figure something out once we’re there.”

We’ve been whispering as we move, our ears attuned to the sound of footsteps. Or mine and Max’s are—I can tell by the way he keeps tilting his head, his gaze shifting, tracking distant noises. I don’t think Aimee’s paying attention at all. Which makes me realize, yet again, how lucky I am to have Max. Now if we just survive long enough for me to tell him that.

He’s in the lead, and we’re halfway down the hall when his arm shoots out. He’s heard something. I do too, after he stops—a door closing down the next hall. Again he checks to see if I heard, but he’s a little slower this time, as if starting to trust himself. I nod and take a step backward, bumping into Aimee, who doesn’t move.