I put the phone back in my pocket and aim the gun at Craike. Even though he looks passed out, I know better than anyone that appearances can be deceiving.
I check the gun and see that it’s loaded, but it contains only one bullet. Carefully, I try to open his drawers to look for more ammunition, but they’re all locked. A quick scan of his bookshelf doesn’t reveal anything that could house bullets. So I have one shot. I’d better make it count.
I glance at the computer. On the camera feed, I see my four friends sprinting past the jet. They reach the elevator. Juliet punches the code into the keypad. Come on … Yes! The doors open.
Craike is stirring. His face is pale and one side is smeared with blood, yet he’s grinning a massive grin.
“You brought them to me.” He laughs. “Thank you for that.”
I jab the gun into his temple. “Tell me where the Stalkers are kept.”
He continues laughing, high-pitched and maniacal. Slowly, he pushes himself off the desk and stands up.
“Sit down,” I growl.
He squares his shoulders, and his eyes meet mine. “You aren’t going to shoot me. You’re just a Love Interest.”
“No, I’m not.” I lower the gun and aim it at his right kneecap.
Even though I’ve been through hell, even though I’ve been told I’m worthless my whole life, even though I’m gay, even though the world wants me to bow down and accept that who I am makes me insignificant, the following is true:
“I’m the protagonist, fucker!”
I pull the trigger.
A burst of red blood darkens his slacks, and he drops. It was the perfect protagonist move. It was violent, sure, but Craike will survive, so I don’t have a death attributed to me. I’m the hero because I only hurt him when he would’ve killed me. He will recover from this wound, which means I will as well.
I run my fingers through his shiny hair then make a fist. I yank his head upward. “Tell me where they’re kept or I’ll kill you. I’ll do it. You always thought you could see through me, Craike. Well, am I acting now? Am I?”
He grinds his teeth together. “Fine,” he spits. “They’re kept on level ten. Good luck getting there in one piece.”
I slide my hand into his pocket and pull out two crumpled tissues and his wallet. I pull the key card from the wallet, then drop it and the tissues. They land beside his head.
I lift up my shirt and scrub my face with it, mopping up blood until my skin feels raw and clean. I hang on to the gun, even though I’m out of bullets. If I’m convincing enough, anyone I come up against will automatically assume it’s loaded. I head out into the hallway. Thankfully, it’s still empty. I sprint toward the elevator. The plastic card sticks to my damp palm.
The elevator beeps and the door opens. Inside are Natalie, Trev, Dyl, and Juliet. They all look pale and sweaty.
Trevor blurts out, “This place is so trippy!”
Everyone ignores him. Natalie is wearing a skintight black suit, the same one that hung in Juliet’s garage. Her hair is tied back in a high ponytail. I walk into the elevator and press the button marked 10.
The door closes.
I move to the back of the elevator to stand beside Dyl. “Hey,” I say.
“Hey.”
Juliet clears her throat. “So the Stalkers are on level ten?”
I nod.
The elevator stops and the doors open. Outside is a long hallway. The path to the right leads to a gray glass door that’s guarded by two men. One of the guards looks up. He looks young, I’d guess early twenties, and has a friendly face, with wide brown eyes and pale lips. The other is ridiculously buff.
I turn my head and look down the hallway. It stretches on for about five hundred yards, then banks to the left. We can’t run. They’ll shoot us all before we reach the corner. The harsh neon lighting makes my eyes water.
The guards shout something, then dash forward, their hands reaching for their weapons.
Natalie charges past me. She sprints, pumping her arms and taking giant leaps toward the two guards. She reaches them before they can draw their guns. Fluidly, she drops down to the floor and sends a sweeping kick. Her shinbone hits the calves of the guard on the right. He flings his arms into the air and collapses. Natalie turns her attention to the other guard, her eyes narrowing as she moves. She ducks under his punch and sends a quick jab right into his throat. His face goes crimson, then he falls to his knees, his hands clawing at his throat. Natalie bends down and pulls their guns from their holsters.
She stands. “Thanks, boys.”
She spins, flashing a smile, then strides down the hallway back toward us. She hands one of the guns to Juliet.
“Babe,” calls Trevor. “That was seriously the most badass thing I’ve ever seen. I love you so freaking much.”
He grabs her by the shoulders and kisses her on the cheek.
Natalie tugs at the sleeve of her suit. “It’s easier because of this, knowing I’m bulletproof, so you have to thank Juliet as well.”
“No way,” says Juliet. “That was all you, Nat. But enough back-patting, we’ve got work to do.”
“Agreed,” says Natalie.
I pull Mr. Craike’s card from my pocket and step toward the screen. “Let’s hope this is a master key.”
Trevor’s face drops and he leaps in front of Natalie.
Bang.
Bang.
My ears ring. Trevor collapses. The guard at the end of the hall does as well, his blood smearing the mirrored wall behind him. His eyes roll back into his head. His mouth is hanging open, his tongue sticking out against his puffy lips. Natalie’s gun is smoking.
“No,” says Natalie. Her arms are trembling.
A vast chunk is missing from the middle of Trevor. It’s like someone gouged a giant shovel into his chest. His body is convulsing and blood is flowing from his mouth, covering his lips and jaw. It’s … it’s not good. No one could survive that. Trevor might not be dead yet, but he’s not going to survive this.
“No,” says Natalie. She’s staring at him, pulling at her hair. He goes still. Natalie hasn’t even noticed yet. Oh God, Natalie hasn’t noticed yet. “No. I’m bulletproof. The armor … It … it … Trevor, you idiot! Trevor!”
She looks down and sees the corpse. Her mouth opens but no sound comes out.
“We need to go,” says Juliet. If she’s struggling with what happened to Trevor, it doesn’t show on her face. How can she be so practical? Trevor is dead. It happened so fast and it’s so bizarre I can’t believe it, even though it just happened right in front of me. Trevor, the boy who made a stupid joke mere seconds ago, is now dead.
“Right now,” says Juliet. “Or we’re all dead.”
Juliet grabs Natalie by the arm and pulls her forward. I watch them leave. Trevor’s guts are showing. His blood is splattered on the walls. He’s—
Dyl grabs my wrist and pulls me from my thoughts.
“Caden. We need to go. Come on!”
I let him pull me forward and then we run down the hallway.
CHAPTER