The Treatment (The Program #2)(40)

* * *

I’m half-asleep, lying in bed in the dark, waiting for James. No one has come to speak to me, even though Realm assured me that Dallas was calling all of her contacts searching for him. I remind myself that Dallas can find anyone, especially James. I’ll see him soon. I know I will.

The door hinge creaks and I sit up quickly, my heart leap-ing into my throat. But it’s not James. Realm stands there, flooded in hallway light, his skin pale against the navy of his light jacket, his dark brown hair. Disappointment rocks me, and I rub my eyes.

“Have you heard anything?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

Realm slips his hands into his pockets and shakes his head.

I curse and lie back down, staring at the ceiling. If I could just talk to James—he’d understand there’s nothing between me and Realm.

“Sloane,” Realm says quietly. “I’m sorry. We have to leave.

I’m sorry, but we do. The Program is on its way. They picked up Arthur Pritchard about twenty minutes ago. We have to get out of here.”

I take a frightened breath, fear and panic tearing through me. Arthur Pritchard is gone—what if he was telling the truth?

What if it’s my fault that he’s been caught?

“Sweetness,” Realm says, striding across the shadowy room to sit next to me. “We can talk about this on the way, but we have to go.”

I know Realm’s right—I really do. “I can’t leave him,” I say.

“Please don’t make me leave James behind.” This could end him—literally end James if The Program gets ahold of him.

“Please,” I try one last time.

A figure materializes in the doorway and my heart stops. At first I can’t tell if it’s James or a handler. I’m about to scream, but the person turns on the light. My stomach sinks.

“Dallas is waiting in the car,” Cas says impatiently. He’s disheveled, fidgety, and when he glances around the room, I can’t help but think he’s looking for The Treatment. I wonder if he was the one in my room earlier just as he goes to the dresser, grabbing the duffel bag from the top and stuffing my clothes inside.

“Sloane,” Realm says, touching my knee. “We’ll find him—I promise. But right now you have to come with us. If not . . . we’ll make you. I’m doing what has to be done to keep you safe. I hope you believe that.”

There’s a sharp pinch of betrayal, and I push him away, climbing out of the bed. I pull on a sweater and then meet Cas across the room, ripping the bag from his hands. He nods to me, apologetic. Through a teary gaze, I get the rest of my and James’s clothing.

I have no doubt Realm would throw me over his shoulder or drag me out of here kicking and screaming. What’s worse, I know James would never leave me behind like this. He would never do this to me.

My belongings fall to the floor and I squat down, covering my face as I sob into my hands. How can I do this? How can I live with myself if something happens to him?

There’s a second of quiet before Cas bends to pick up my bag. Realm comes to put his arms around me, leaning down and whispering into my hair how sorry he truly is. I continue to cry and let him stand me up, holding on to him so I won’t collapse. We walk from the room, but not before I cast one more look back over the room.

Empty.

We’ve been driving for hours. Stretches of highway blend together, lulling me in and out of sleep. I rest my head against the warm window in the backseat, Realm on the other side of me. There’s been no word on James—good or bad, but every time Dallas takes out her phone, my hopes climb and then crash to the ground. Last time I asked her about James, she assured me that if he’d been caught, she’d know instantly. She thinks he’s hiding or moping, but either way, she’ll find him. I hope she’s right.

Arthur Pritchard had been picked up by a group of handlers about thirty miles from our safe house. They hadn’t been watching us, not that we think, but the doctor’s intentions must have been reported. Someone turned Arthur Pritchard over, and now he belongs to The Program. I just hope he can talk his way out of it. He’s the creator—that has to count for something.

“How much longer?” I ask no one in particular. My mouth is dry, and I’m tired of riding in the van. The other rebels have headed to Denver, although I haven’t seen them since we left the Suicide Club back in Salt Lake. Cas didn’t want them to come with us this time. He said we have to protect The Treatment, which means keeping it a secret for as long as possible.

Of course, I’m not currently in possession of the pill, so I guess I’m keeping secrets too.

Dallas tosses an uninterested look in my direction but doesn’t answer. “Cas,” she says, turning to him instead. “Can we stop? My bladder is about to burst.”

“Thanks for the unnecessary explanation,” he replies, smiling from the driver’s seat. He clicks on his blinker for the exit, and I straighten, ready to stretch my legs. Realm murmurs for her to be quick about it, and Dallas sneers, keeping her body turned away from him. This has been the pattern since we left.

Whenever Realm asks her a question, Dallas directs Cas to answer him or stays silent, pretending Realm doesn’t exist.

Throughout the drive I’ve turned over Realm’s confessions in my head—every moment in which he lied to me. Realm had been in The Program more than once. He knew Roger.