“Now we have to find you a Shadow,” Bex says.
My mind flashes on Fathom, but I don’t say a word, and long after Bex falls asleep, he is still running through my thoughts. He has moved into my mind, cluttering it with his hands and eyes and his ridiculous laugh, knocking down walls that should protect me from him. He’s built an addition inside my imagination, a closet like the one at school where we held each other. I can go there again and again, feel him, strong and sturdy, anchored to that spot like a statue commissioned just for me. But he is not mine, can’t be mine, and it makes me ache.
Chapter Seventeen
“We are going to binge-watch Netflix until it explodes,” Bex cheers when we wake up and find out school is closed for the foreseeable future.
And we do, and I am more than happy—anything to take my mind off of Doyle, Fathom, Terrance, and how easy it is to buy a grenade in this country. Bex is a lovely distraction. We watch movies on the laptop and small-claims court shows on daytime TV. Shadow comes over and brings us another ten-dollar window fan so that we now have three roaring and whipping warm air in every direction. With a little duct tape he manages to rig one so that it hangs over the open freezer door, filling the kitchen with bursts of cold air. It’s totally redneck, but it works and it makes my mother laugh. It’s a welcome sound in the apartment, an echo of days long ago.
Shadow is also very good for egg-roll runs and games of UNO, but he and Bex drift off every so often to kiss in the bathroom. I’m happy for them but also feeling like a loser. I pick up my phone and sort through the hate texts, hoping I missed something from Gabriel. I shouldn’t care. What he said about the Alpha was not cool, and the temper tantrum he’s been throwing at school has knocked him down a few points in my eyes, but I could use some male attention right now. Unfortunately, there isn’t so much as a keystroke from him among my messages. He’s either busy with some other girl or he’s still mad I sent him home to take a cold shower.
A knock at the door brings everyone to the living room. None of us is expecting anyone.
“Maybe it’s Mrs. Novakova?” I suggest.
“Maybe it’s the prince,” Bex says.
My father slides back the chain and answers it tentatively. Bonnie is on the other side.
“Mr. Walker, I’m Specialist Bonnie Ralston, one of the soldiers assigned to protect Lyric,” she says. “I’m here to escort her to meet with Fathom.”
My father turns to me, confused. I shrug because so am I.
“Where do you think you’re taking her?”
Bonnie frowns. “They didn’t call you, did they? Sir, your daughter agreed to meet with the Alpha prince each school day. I’m here to escort her to the camp.”
“There is literally no chance that’s going to happen,” my father challenges.
“I understand your reluctance, sir. Bringing him here today proved to be a logistical impossibility. It’s much safer to take her to him.”
“You tell Doyle he’s lost his mind. She’s not going.”
“Sir, you know I can’t tell him that.”
“So, what now? Are you going to send up a platoon to arrest me?”
Bonnie frowns. “Sir, I’d like to handle this without any—”
“The camp is dangerous for a human being,” my mother interrupts. “Aside from the war games, the Alpha have very little experience with surface people. Some of them are really aggressive and hostile to outsiders.”
Bonnie’s eyes open wide. “You know the camps.”
I cringe, gearing up for Mom’s scales to come out now that she’s been put on the spot, but she stays calm. “They live less than a mile from my home, and my daughter meets with one every day. I have taken an interest,” she says.
“Bonnie, Fathom told me he didn’t want to meet with me anymore,” I explain.
She shrugs. “He changed his mind.”
“Can I go too?” Shadow says.
“If he goes, I’m going,” Bex says.
“No one is going,” my father cries.
“We have an armored car downstairs to make sure she gets there safely. She’ll have a military escort in the camp, and she only has to be there for an hour each day.”
“I don’t care if you have Superman fly her there! It’s not going to—”
“Mr. Walker, Mr. Doyle asked me to remind you that your daughter made a deal.”
“What deal?” Bex asks.
“I’ll get my shoes,” I say.
“Lyric, I don’t—”
I shake my head at him. We need my mother’s identification, and I’ll do anything to get it. “It’s fine. Fathom will make sure nothing happens to me.”
“I’m going with you,” my father says, then turns to Bonnie. “It’s not open for debate.”
Bonnie nods. “I can make that happen.”