Page 86 of Juniper Unraveling

Absorbing the missing pieces, I turn to face him. “You … still work for the hospital?”

“Yes.”

“That’s how you knew about Six.”

Casting his gaze from mine, he sets his hands to his hips. “I’ve never personally seen the subjects of S block. But I knew about the program.”

“Why do you still work there? Why would you continue to stay there when you know what happens? What these monsters do every day?”

He lifts his arm, peeling back his sleeve, revealing a patch of gauze taped beneath. “Call it a personal interest.”

“You’ve been bitten. When?”

“The night I came for you here. Two Ragers were feeding on the blood. They tried to get to you, and in the melee and panic of trying to keep you alive, I had a moment of carelessness. And rage.”

Which means he’s effectively hidden the wound for years.

“How … how have you not turned?”

“Every day, I inject myself with a new strain of antibodies, in hopes I find the right match. Some have a negative reaction at the site of the wound. It’s slowed the progression, but … the truth is, I can turn at any time, Wren.”

“That’s why you let Six stay.”

Head bowed, he nods. “I thought he could protect you, if necessary. From me.”

“You’re dying, then.”

“By my estimates, a little bit more every day.”

“But you’re still searching for a cure.”

“Yes.” His cheeks puff out, before he exhales. “Though, the hourglass is running out. I’m no spring chicken. Every day, I wait for one of them to find out. To throw me into one of their experimental labs.”

“And still, you work to find a cure.”

“Always.” His brow furrows, but I catch the shine of tears in his eyes. “My daughter was minutes old when I held her for the first time, and fourteen years old when I held her for the last time. The plaques on her brain had destroyed most of the tissue, and she’d begun to show signs of aggression.” The shifting of his jaw is a poor attempt to stave off the sob that wobbles his voice. “It was a Tuesday afternoon in the summer when I injected her with potassium chloride and held her until the very last beat of her heart.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he clears his throat again. “I swore that I’d never put myself through that hell again. But then you came along. You reminded me so much of her. Her grit. Her bravery. And I swore that I would keep you alive until the last beat of my heart.”

I wipe away the tears. For all the reasons I should hate him, there are as many to appreciate everything he’s done for me at his own expense.

“The truck has full power. I put an extra battery pack and charger in the back, and enough supplies to keep you going for a couple of weeks. You’re free to go, Dani. If that’s what you want, you’re free to go. You owe me nothing.”

I cross my arms, contemplating the choice on offer, and shake my head. “My name is Wren. Dani died a long time ago. And if it’s all right with you, I’ll stay. ‘Til the last beat. I’ll stay with you.”

His lips stretch to what is perhaps the first genuine smile I’ve seen—the kind that crinkles the corners of his glistening eyes. “It is quite all right with me.”

Eight Years Later …

Wren

Chapter 25

I drop the rock into the pouch of my sling and hold it away from my body. The whoosh of the bark fibers whipping past my ear tells me when I’ve built enough momentum to release the thumb knot. Too early, and it’ll go to the right. Too late, and it’ll hit to the left. My target is a quail that sits at the base of a cactus, about thirty yards off.

The heavy rock swings easily over my head, and I release it, knocking the bird from its perch. A flap of wings kick up the surrounding dust, before it stills.

As I tuck my sling into the satchel strapped across my body, rising up from my hiding place behind the rock, a jerky movement catches my eye. The growls and clicks confirm what I already suspect. From a small abandoned shack, whose planks have rotted and decayed, a Rager stumbles toward my quarry.

“No you don’t, asshole.” I tug up my sling again and lift a large smooth rock out of my satchel. The jagged ones are nice for splintering the bone, but the smooth ones never catch on any woven fibers, making for a quick and easy hit.