Six(76)

I was living, probably in the truest sense. More than I ever had before, because every moment counted. And because of that, I’d already done things not to be proud of and seen horrors I never wanted to.

With my fingers, I brushed out the bits of glass from my ponytail as we raced down the streets, Seven right in front of us.

We only drove for about ten minutes before pulling into a used car lot.

Getting out, Six and Seven headed right for each other as I lagged behind, shaking more bits of glass from my hair.

“How did someone know we were there?” Six asked. It was an actual question and not an accusation like I thought it would be.

Seven shook his head. “I did recon, and everything seemed legit.”

“You used your computer?”

“Of course,” Seven said with an edge of annoyance in his voice.

“How was Jason when you talked to him?”

“Normal.”

“He didn’t seem scared or on the run?”

Seven shook his head. “Same shit, different day. We joked about the casinos and how I might have trouble finding my target with all the drunks on the streets.”

That didn’t sound like the Jason we’d met with a few weeks ago. Given that Six and the others also had trouble getting ahold of him was solidifying their terrible theory.

Maybe Jason wasn’t on their side.

Six ran his fingers through his hair. I tilted my head as I stared at him. That was his sign of worry and agitation. There was a lack of control in a situation that should have been well controlled. Not that he wasn’t able to adapt and change, but that was when his idiosyncrasies showed up.

“I met with Five, One, and Nine a week ago. I know One was looking for you. We’re trying to get everyone together.”

“For what?” Seven asked.

“A go at Langley,” Six said. I watched Seven’s eyes widen a small bit. “Stay close and I’ll find you when we’re ready.”

“Do you think we’ve been hacked?” Seven asked, finally seeming truly concerned about what was going on.

“I don’t know, but I’d watch your back.” Six held out his hand.

Seven took it and gave it a firm shake. “You, too. And get rid of that cat sooner rather than later.”

My eye twitched at being called a cat again. I flipped Seven off as he moved back to his car, right as Six turned around.

He stepped up to me, his face as stoic as ever, and reached up, plucking a piece of glass from my hair.

“Let’s go.”

I heaved a sigh, then climbed back into the car.

It was silent the entire way back to the motel. Silent as we walked up the stairs.

Silent as we entered. Silent as I stripped off my clothes and threw on a T-shirt before climbing onto the bed.

Silent as my mind was numb.

“She would’ve died even if you weren’t there,” Six said as I stared at the wall.

No. Shut up.

“She might not have. If he’d gone in the morning like he was thinking,” I said, my voice low and notably lifeless.

I suddenly found the combination checkered and floral pattern of the wallpaper very interesting.

“Then many others would have died.”

Why was he still talking?

“What the f*ck do you care? We’re all just cattle to you. Stupid animals that roam the earth.” A tear slipped from my eye, landing on my wrist.

“I know life is important to you.”

I turned to look at him, my brow furrowed. “Why are you talking to me? You never do it willfully. I’m always poking and prodding, so why now?”

He stood next to the bed, arms at his side, looking almost confused. “Because you’re upset.”

“And? With all the times that you’ve hurt me, how is this one different?”

His jaw ticked, and he looked away.

“That’s what I thought.” I turned back to my wall.

He stood there for another minute, then moved to the bathroom.

The anger at him letting Seven kill her tore at me. I knew he couldn’t stop it, and there was relief that it wasn’t him who killed her, but deep inside, I wished he’d let her go.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

I knew it wasn’t a possibility. They were absolute.

Except me.

Six had kept me alive for over two months.

The sound of the toilet flushing filled the room as he stepped out of the bathroom. There was a rustling of clothes and then a dip in the bed, the awful springs bouncing.

I wanted to tell him to sleep on the couch, but he wasn’t my boyfriend.

He was my captor.

Six was an unfeeling machine of death, not a lover.

All the times we had sex held no emotional ties. They were f*cking and nothing more. Just as he said—the purpose was pleasure.

Like a stupid, crazy ass girl, I began to think maybe it meant more.

When his arm wrapped around my waist, I jumped. But just as with every night, I melted into his bare chest. Molded my body to his.

Yes, he made it obvious in more than one way that night that he didn’t want to kill me yet, but that didn’t equate to emotional ties. I was alive because I was of use. Nothing more.

“Just because I’m a sociopath doesn’t mean I don’t know what love is,” he whispered.