Page 38 of The Cruelest Chaos
I turn to go, popping open the mini fridge on my way to the stairs, making sure she still has enough food. Water. Alcohol.
It’s fuller than it should be, which means she hasn’t been eating much.
I slam the fridge door closed and clench my fists. “Ria,” I say, my back to her, “we could do this, you know.” I flex my jaw, hating what I’m going to say next. “We could pretend. I would do that. For you.”
Not for anyone else. Ever. I willneverget myself in this position ever again. I won’t put myself in a position to be miserable the rest of my life to save the life of someone else.
I am not selfless.
But Ria…I owe her this much.
I hold my breath while I wait for her answer, and I don’t know what I want it to be. On the one hand, she’d make a fine wife. But I’d be a terrible husband, and neither of us would be faithful to the other.
At least she wouldn’t be fucking dead.
“No,” she finally says, and I exhale, although I’m not sure it’s with relief. “No, Maverick. I don’t want to marry you. You have too many demons.” She laughs quietly. “I don’t want to see them all.”
* * *
The Ark is notwhat I thought it would be. After I called Atlas, got Natalie’s number, confirmed Ella would be there, and got the address, I’d been imagining a yellow building with peeling paint, orange-flecked carpets, counselors and kids with snotty noses. I don’t know why. I haven’t been to a therapist since I turned thirteen, and the bubbles incident never clicked.
Therapy is forbidden by the 6’s unwritten code, Mos Maiorum, after a boy becomes a teenager.
But this place is not what I imagined.
It’s down a winding drive, trees on either side with a steep incline. At one point, there’s a bridge that’s icy in Alexandria’s unusually cold temperatures. I’m glad I took the Audi.
But I didn’t do it because I knew this place was some sort of backwoods farm. I did it so Ella won’t notice me.
Not at first.
The shaded driveway empties into a dirt parking lot, dozens of cars backed in to easily get out of the angled lot. There’re a few sheds, a ranch-style house with an expansive front porch, and beyond that aremorebarns, and a field stretching as far as I can see.
After I back in, I see a woman pushing a kid in a wheelchair down to a small playground. There’re a few donkeys in the enclosure at my back, and as I step out of the car, I take a deep whiff of horse shit.
Fantastic.
I’m wearing a hoodie with the hood up, skeleton bandana on because 1. I always wear it and 2. It covers some of my tattoos.
But that scary one on my face is kinda hard to hide.
Maybe no one will come over to me. Maybe I’ll just look like I fit right in.
My boots grow dusty on the dirt drive, and I shove my hands in my pockets because, oh right, they’re tattooed, too.
But just as I’m wondering what the best way to find Ella without arousing too much suspicion is, I hear her voice.
I’m walking by a shed with God knows what inside, the top part of the door half open. It’s painted a terrible green color, and definitely not big enough for horses. It’s barely big enough for one person.
If two people are in there…
I clench my hands into fists, listening right outside. I dart my gaze around the fucking farm. The only human beings I see are the kid in the wheelchair and his chaperone.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” Ella is saying.
Who the fuck?
Whoever it is doesn’t speak. Maybe it’s a nice old woman. I’d be okay with that.
