The Treatment (The Program #2)(55)

“Just give them The Treatment,” he begs quietly, as if he’s the one who’s pained. “Give up The Treatment and they’ll let you go.”

“You son of a bitch!” James yells, renewing the guard of his handers as they wrestle him back a few steps. “I will f**king kill you!”

Cas’s eyes weaken, but he shakes his head, determined to keep his focus on me. “Give them the pill, Sloane, and this will all be over. We’ll be able to go home again.” Tears mix with the blood on my face; I’m too stunned to speak. “We couldn’t keep running,” he adds in my silence. “My intel showed we had only a few days lead. They would have caught us, but I made a deal.

The Treatment for our freedom.”

My head is spinning, and it’s not just from where I hit it.

Arthur lies unconscious several feet away. Behind him, Roger watches on, a sick smile on his lips. In his expression I can see that he has absolutely no intention of letting us leave here today. I try to get to my feet but stumble to the ground again, skinning my knee and crying out in pain. I hear a scuffle and know James is once again trying to get to me. But they’ll never let him get that close again. I sit back on the pavement and look around once more. When I find Dallas, she looks catatonic.

Her eyes are wide, unfocused; her mouth is hanging open. Her arms are still wrapped around herself as a handler restrains her, but she’s not fighting. She’s just staring at her best friend, absolutely lost in her grief. I cry for her—the only person Dallas had let herself trust again, and this is what he’s done.

Cas reads my expression and slowly, he turns to face Dallas.

He tilts his head, covering his own cry at her appearance. “Let her go!” he yells out in a thick voice. “She’s not part of this. You said you only wanted the pill.”

“I’m sorry, Casanova,” Roger says, stepping over Arthur Pritchard’s unconscious body. “I’m afraid our agreement is void.” Cas swings to face him, his posture hardening. “On closer look, your friends have been deemed infected. We’ll be taking them all into custody at this time.”

“You’re not going anywhere near her, you f**k!” Cas shouts.

Roger laughs, shaking his head dismissively before another handler puts his hand on Cas’s shoulder, a subtle warning to stay back.

“Oh, come now,” Roger says with a grin. “Dallas and I are old friends, aren’t we, sweetheart?”

Cas and James both start cussing at Roger, and my stomach lurches at the thought that anyone can be as sadistic as he is.

I look at Dallas and freeze. She’s lifted her gaze from Cas to Roger, her lips curling, her eyes narrowing. She’s coming back to life, but as what, I’m not sure. I don’t think she’s herself. I don’t even think she’s sane.

Roger isn’t looking at Dallas, though. He glances around at the handlers, growing impatient at the scene. “Confiscate The Treatment and grab the girls. Put him in the other van.” He motions to James. “Casanova,” he adds, turning to him.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

My head and heart are throbbing. We’ve been betrayed.

Cas gave us over to The Program. How could he trust them, knowing what they’ve done to us in the past? A handler comes over to help me up, and I look across the parking lot at James, finding him already watching me. His face is wet with tears, his body slumped with failure.

We didn’t make it. Once again The Program has won, and we’re about to lose everything. James glances around the parking lot, maybe checking for one last escape, but when his gaze returns to mine, I see the hopelessness in it. His left eye has started to puff up from where he must have been hit, and I can only imagine how my blood-soaked face looks.

When I’m finally to my feet, I know our time is up. We’re not even close enough to touch, close enough to talk. “Where’s the pill?” the handler asks me, patting down my pockets. I’m alarmed by his touch, and then I remember: James has The Treatment. He seems to realize the same thing at that very moment.

We can’t let The Program get their hands on the pill. They can’t have control over the ingredients. If the pill is gone, there’s still the hope that someday another brilliant scientist like Evelyn Valentine will come along and create a better one. James shrugs helplessly, as if asking if he should do it. I smile sadly, thinking it’s bittersweet. If James survives this—he remember me. All of me.

The handler starts upending my pockets, roughly searching for The Treatment, but I block out his existence. There’s just me and James, our eyes locked on each other. I nod.

As the handlers are focused on me, James slips his hand into his pocket, rifling around until he brings the pill out, a flash of orange between his fingers. He pauses one quick second, before placing it on his tongue and swallowing it dry. Once it’s down, he closes his eyes, and begins to cry.

But I stop. James is safe—he’s the strongest person I know.

The Treatment won’t hurt him. And as long as The Program doesn’t kill or lobotomize him, they won’t be able to steal his memories. He can fake erasure. He’s the best liar I know. “I love you,” I say, when he looks at me again. He can’t actually hear me, but he reads my lips and says it back.

“She doesn’t have it,” the handler searching me calls out.