Imagine Me (Shatter Me #6)(36)

Castle raises an eyebrow.

“Except for you, of course,” I add hastily. “What reason would you have to be afraid of Warner? He’s such a nice guy. Loves children. Big talker. Oh, and bonus: He no longer murders people professionally. No, now murdering people is just a fulfilling hobby.”

Castle sighs, visibly annoyed.

I crack a smile. “Sir, all I’m saying is that we don’t really know him, right? When Juliette was around—”

“Ella. Her name is Ella.”

“Uh-huh. When she was around, Warner was tolerable. Barely. But now she’s not around, and he’s acting just like the guy I remember when I enlisted, the guy he was when he was working for his dad and running Sector 45. What reason does he have to be loyal or kind to the rest of us?”

Castle opens his mouth to respond, but just then arrives my salvation: lunch.

A smiling volunteer comes by, handing out simple salads in bowls of foil. I take the proffered food and plastic silverware with an overenthusiastic thanks, and promptly rip the lid off the container.

“Warner has been dealt a punishing blow,” Castle says. “He needs us now more than ever.”

I glance up at Castle. Shove a forkful of salad in my mouth. I chew slowly, still deciding how to respond, when I’m distracted by movement in the distance.

I look up.

Brendan and Winston and Ian and Lily are in the corner gathered around a small, makeshift table, all of them holding tinfoil lunch bowls. They’re waving us over.

I gesture with a forkful of salad. Speak with my mouth full. “You want to join us?”

Castle sighs even as he stands, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in his black pants. I glance over at Nazeera’s sleeping figure as I collect my things. I know, rationally, that she’s going to be fine, but she’s recovering from a full blow to the chest—not unlike J once did—and it hurts to see her so vulnerable. Especially for a girl who once laughed in my face at the prospect of ever being overpowered.

It scares me.

“Coming?” Castle says, glancing over his shoulder. He’s already a few steps away, and I have no idea how long I’ve been standing here, staring at Nazeera.

“Oh, yeah,” I say. “Right behind you.”


The minute we sit down at their table, I know something is off. Brendan and Winston are sitting stiffly, side by side, and Ian doesn’t do more than glance at me when I sit down. I find this reception especially strange, considering the fact that they flagged me down. You’d think they’d be happy to see me.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Castle speaks. “I was just telling Kenji,” he says, “that he should be the one to talk to Warner.”

Brendan looks up. “That’s a great idea.”

I shoot him a dark look.

“No, really,” he says, carefully choosing a piece of potato to spear. Wait—where did they get potatoes? All I got was salad. “Someone definitely needs to talk to him.”

“Someone definitely does,” I say, irritated. I narrow my eyes at Brendan’s potatoes. “Where’d you get those?”

“This is just what they gave me,” Brendan says, looking up in surprise. “Of course, I’m happy to share.”

I move quickly, jumping out of my seat to spear a chunk of potato from his bowl. I shove the whole piece in my mouth before I even sit back down, and I’m still chewing when I thank him.

He looks mildly repulsed.

I guess I am a bit of a caveman when Warner isn’t around to keep me decent.

“Anyway, Castle’s right,” Lily says. “You should talk to him, and soon. I think he’s kind of a loose cannon right now.”

I stab a piece of lettuce, roll my eyes. “Can I maybe eat my lunch before everyone starts jumping down my throat? This is the first real meal I’ve had since I got shot.”

“No one is jumping down your throat.” Castle frowns. “And I thought Nouria said the normal dining hours went back into effect yesterday morning.”

“They did,” I say.

“But you were shot three days ago,” Winston says. “Which means—”

“All right, okay, calm down, Detective Winston. Can we change the subject, please?” I take another bite of lettuce. “I don’t like this one.”

Brendan puts down his knife and fork. Hard.

I straighten.

“Go talk to him,” he says again, this time with an air of finality that surprises me.

I swallow my food. Too fast. Nearly choke.

“I’m serious,” Brendan says, frowning as I cough up a lung. “This is a wretched time for all of us, and you’ve more of a connection with him than anyone else here. Which means you have a moral responsibility to find out what he’s thinking.”

“A moral responsibility?” My cough turns into a laugh.

“Yes. A moral responsibility. And Winston agrees with me.”

I look up, raising my eyebrows at Winston. “I bet he does. I bet Winston agrees with you all the time.”

Winston adjusts his glasses. He stabs blindly at his food and mutters, “I hate you,” under his breath.

“Oh yeah?” I gesture between Winston and Brendan with my fork. “What the hell is going on here? This energy is super weird.”