Page 141 of Hunted to Be Mine
“You’re bleeding out,” she argued, already dialing. “And you’re hypothermic.”
My training kicked in, overriding rational thought. Eliminate the witness. Leave no trace. I reached for a weapon that still wasn’t there, the movement automatic and horrifying. The realization of what I had just tried to do sent a wave of nausea through me.
She noticed the gesture, her body tensing. But instead of running, she stood her ground.
“If you’re planning to kill me,” she said, voice steadier than it should have been, “you should know I’m the only chance you’ve got right now.”
The statement penetrated my disoriented mind.
My programming battled with emerging identity. Pain lanced through my skull as conditioning pathways conflicted with… something else. Someone else.
Xavier.
Pain spiked again, vision going white at the edges. Blood dripped steadily from my head wound, pooling at my feet. Too much blood. System shutdown imminent.
The woman moved closer rather than retreating. I watched through blurring vision as she studied me, assessing injuries.
“Who are you?” The question came from my mouth, directed as much at myself as at her.
“Clare Bolton,” she answered without hesitation. “And you’re bleeding out in my alley.”
American? Where was I again? She extended her hand—both, a challenge and a lifeline. I stared at it. Operational protocols still screaming to eliminate the witness. But my hand didn’t move to comply.
“So what’s it going to be?” she asked.
Police sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer. Her eyes flicked toward the sound, then back to me.
“Those are coming for you, aren’t they?” she asked, but didn’t withdraw her offered hand.
My tactical assessment told me she was right. SENTINEL or Oblivion—both hunting me now. Death either way. My blood dripped from my fingertips as I reached toward her hand, unable to understand why she would help me. Why anyone would help what I was. She pulled me up with more force than I had expected from her.
“N-need to…” The words wouldn’t form properly. My tongue felt swollen, uncooperative. “C-can’t go b-back.”
I felt the unexpected warmth of her hand as she caught me before I fell, my legs finally giving out completely. My vision tunneled, darkening at the edges.
“Stay with me,” she ordered, her voice fading in and out like a badly tuned radio. “What’s your name?”
“B-Blackout,” I stuttered, then shook my head, sending fresh pain radiating through my skull. “No. Not… not that. Not r-real.”
“Then who are you?” she insisted, struggling to support my weight as she dragged me toward a service door.
“X-Xavier,” I managed, the name causing another spike of agony behind my eyes. “Maybe. I think… I was Xavier.”
The admission cost me the last of my strength. Darkness rushed in as I collapsed against her, the sirens growing louder as consciousness slipped away.
The last thing I heard was her voice, firm and determined: “Alright, Xavier. Let’s get you inside before you freeze to death. You can tell me the rest when you’re not dying.”
