"I don't know about that," Everett says. "I'm sure you'll be waking up next to your handsome prince since I doubt he'll let you out of his reach."
I return my glare to Axel's profile. "That won't be happening. I want answers. I'm done with the persuasion games. Since you two seem to think you know me better than you should, just know, I'm already ten steps ahead of you. You don't have to believe it, and I don't care if you do, but it is what it is." This is unbelievable. The two of them look like they're falling in love, with how intently they're staring at each other. "I'm going to the restroom. Maybe a minute alone will allow you two to collect your thoughts."
I unlatch my seatbelt and steady myself with my armrest to offset the turbulence we're going through. I make a run for the bathroom, nearly throwing myself into the wall before closing myself inside. This is bad. I wish I could hear what's going on from inside the stall but the automatic vent built into the light switch is muting everything outside.
I take a few minutes, stalling to give them the time they need to sort out their jealousy problems, hoping it will help supply me with an answer by the time we land, but the two of them are as unpredictable as I am.
When I open the door and walk back out toward my seat, another air pocket shifts the plane around, and I trip, falling to my knees while managing to knock my head into the armrest of an empty chair. It doesn't knock me out, but a wave of dizziness consumes me and weakens my arms to the point of giving out, and I fall flat onto the ground. It happens so quickly, I feel a gush of air shoot through my lungs. Both Axel and Everett are up in a matter of milliseconds, falling to their knees to help me up, but I kind of wish they’d leave me here indefinitely. "She hit her head," Axel says. "Careful."
My head feels like it's spinning in circles as I try to sit up, but I don't think I hit it that hard. I could be wrong, though. "Shit, I'm going to grab some ice," Everett says, pushing himself up.
"Isabelle." Axel wraps his hand around my chin, and the warmth from his touch makes my head feel heavy, like I could rest against him and just fall asleep. I’m fucking tired. I’ve been tired all day. "You okay? You hit your head kind of hard."
"I'm fine," I hiss. "But I don't want to be around either of you right now."
"Listen to me," he says. "Nothing I've done since the day I met you has been with intention of destroying your life. In fact, I've been struggling to find a way to keep you safe."
"Then why does every word that’s coming from your mouth sound like a lie?" I say, sounding like I’m growling at him.
His fingertips caress my cheek in a way that makes my heart fight against my chest. He's doing this on purpose—working me like a machine. "Because the truth would destroy your life. Can you take that as an answer?" he asks.
Everett returns before I can consider his question, and a bag of ice is placed gently on my head as arms loop through mine, lifting me up to help me over to my seat. Everett sits back down in his seat, and Axel holds the ice steady on my forehead. "Who am I in danger with?" I ask.
I've been hiding in fear of being hunted down for the copious amount of research that was stolen from Mason's lab. He warned me there would be people after me. I didn’t do anything, and I’m sick of running. Do either of you understand this at all?
One day, everything was where it should be, and the next, it looked like the lab never existed. Mason’s research partners were blamed, being the only ones who knew there was research there to be stolen. Mason told me to hide out until things settled down, and then he was arrested. The two other research assistants turned up dead within a month.
"You’re in danger with us," Everett lashes out.
As if the wooziness wasn't enough to deal with, my throat goes dry, and my tongue becomes sticky. There are pains in my stomach and in my chest. There's no way. He's just angry. I'm smarter than this. I don't walk into traps—I'm the creator of traps.
I’ve questioned it a million times in the past week.
I knew desperation was stronger than commitment.
They know what they’re doing and they’re playing me.
"I—I'm in danger with you?" I ask Everett specifically, first.
"When someone has feelings for you, how do they look at you?" he asks.
I try to look over at Axel, but the ice is holding my head in place, and I can't move far or see beyond the ice pack. "What does that have to do with anything?" There is a definitive drop in confidence from my question.
"Do you know what the look is?" Everett asks.
"Yes," I say, breathlessly.
"Describe it."
I don't want to comply with the mind games, but I also don't want to continue thinking my life is in grave danger while flying at six hundred miles per hour. "There's a softened look within his eyes. There's a blushing change to his skin tone, lips perk in the corners, even when the person isn't smiling. Body language changes—normally a part of the body will be angled toward the object of attention, and there's a nervousness or a change in demeanor when levels of a relationship are changing." This isn't advanced knowledge. It's common sense. It's human nature to detect when another person has an attraction for you. Animals have the same intuition.
"Has Axel shown these signs to you?"
"You're such a dickhead," Axel tells him.
"Actually, yes," I answer truthfully.
"Would you be able to fake those emotions and behaviors?" Everett asks me. I think about it for a moment. I suppose a person could fake an attraction, but there are also scientific studies that prove certain bodily reactions wouldn't work unless there was a trueness behind the behavior. Would Axel fight an erection when kissing me? No. Would a man who doesn't smile suddenly fight against his lips curling into the corners of his mouth? Yes. Would he be so worked up about keeping me safe that he couldn't keep his hands off me? No.
Everett is wrong.
"Not all of them," I tell him. "If you're going to kill me, just do it."
"Isabelle," Axel says.
"Seriously, open the exit door and just go on and kick. I'm sick of running anyway. You'll be doing me a favor, trust me."
"We're not going to hurt you," Axel says.
"You already have my SD card, so what other use do you have for me?"
"Why were you hiding that?" Everett asks.
"It's my research. I own it," I tell them.
"Who asked you to research it?" Everett continues.
"Mason Phillips," I answer.
"Who asked Phillips to conduct the research you were working on with him?"
"No one?" Why would someone tell Phillips to do the research he had always been working on? It seems like these two have been given the wrong information.
"Darkest Perception," Axel says.
The name twists my stomach into a tighter knot. All that research was stolen. Whatever wasn't stolen resides in my head and on that SD card, neither of which can be used if not used together. "What do you know about that?" I ask. "Never mind. You’re just like the everyone else pretending they know what it is. You don’t know shit, and you should stop pretending like you do.”
"That music is dangerous," Everett says.
"It's catastrophic, actually," I tell him. "Yet, you have no clue how catastrophic.”
Three Years Ago
I thought an apprenticeship would include life experience, working in a clinic or a hospital with patients needing psychiatric care. It's what Professor Phillips made this opportunity sound like. Instead, there are three graduates and Dr. Phillips sitting in a small lab with blacked-out windows. There are rows of filing cabinets and a corner filled with servers and computers. This is nothing like what I was expecting.
"What are we going to be doing throughout this internship?" Leigh-Ann asks. She's one of the other two apprentices.
"Yeah, I thought we'd be taking part in clinics," Gregg, the second intern pipes in.