Chapter 30

The door shuts behind us and locks us in. Jax's breathing is becoming more labored, and he sinks to the ground to catch his breath. His skin has developed sores, with pus leaking out of the small holes in his arms. I reach out and touch him, channeling all my energy to heal him.

He tries to stop me again, but I push his hand aside as I continue. Tingling sensations surges through my fingertips, slowly making their way out of me. I know I'll miss them once they're gone. The sores begin to subside, and his peeling skin falls off, leaving behind new skin in its wake. His cheeks are flushed, and he isn't out of the woods yet.

"That's all for now," I sigh, taking his hand in mine and squeezing it. He doesn't let go.

He nods and smiles through the pain. But that gives way to alarm as he reaches up to wipe my nose. A crimson stream drips down his fingers, absorbing into the fabric of his suit. Quickly, I turn away from him, desperately wiping away the blood. The metallic smell intensifies as more drips out, keeping an eye on the crystal from the corner of my eye. My hands are shaking again, and red blotches appear all over my skin.

I get up, almost stumbling over as I race towards the crystal, examining its connections to all the air vents. There are easily hundreds of them snaking outside and climbing up the length of the wall. We can't cut them off like this. A ticking tempo travels to my ears, coming from the crystal. Under the blue glow, I take in the numerous sensor triggers throughout the room. Proxy knew we were in here all along. A digital countdown appears on the crystal before it self-destructs.

We have 60 seconds.

The crystal began to glow brighter and brighter until I had to strain to see inside its transparent surface. "What are those?" Jax points to the thin, white wires inside its hot core. There are five of them connected to the timer. This is a new kind of circuit, but it's somewhat similar to the ones we've learned about in the Institution. If I cut the correct wire, self-destruct will be delayed. Otherwise, all it takes is one wrong move for us to be burned alive. My hands tremble beneath the weight of the worst-case possibility. Proxy taught us the anatomy of xoa bombs, but everything I know about it is theoretical.

I punch the crystal, and a snapping sensation radiates throughout my knuckles. A burst of radiation escapes from the boiling liquid, leaving splatters of it on the walls. The circuit collapses. We only have 20 seconds. Always cut the master wire first. Opening my eyes, I scan the identical cables as beads of sweat trickle down my temple. Most bombs nowadays use recycled materials and circuits that would never exist in a traditional one. Somehow, it throws me off.

Ten seconds left. I follow the length of each wire, tracing them from the timer and working out where they end. The third is the only one that leads down to the energy core. This should be it. I slice it away with my knife. Now, we have 40 seconds left. I have two more I should cut, and I must go alone on the other two.

Next, I need to cut the explosive wire. It should cut a path through the length of the crystal. Raking my hands through my disheveled hair, I try to focus harder, but the individual wires seem to meld together with the light. "I can't see which one it's supposed to be," I sigh as I rest my hands against the crystal. Jax pushes himself off the floor and grips my arm for support, leaning some of his weight on me. He shows me a silver locket that Mateo gave him. Silver will cool the core enough so I can map out the wires' paths.

"Jax, I can't."

"I couldn't protect him, and I can't let the same happen to you." He quickly lowers it into the energy core, diminishing it almost instantly. A bright flare shines into his face as the locket dissolves into a molten mess. Jax looks away. I trace each wire, realizing that two go around the sides, converging at the heart of the energy core, but cutting them means instant death, leaving the last two for us to deal with. The one pulsating is the explosive wire, while the other is the death circuit. Feeling around the crystal's jagged edges, I ignore the scorching sensation of the burning core. Blood trickles down my fingers, every drop of crimson sizzling.

I know which one to cut, but I'll need a bigger space to reach inside. Using my knife, I work carefully to slice away at a section of the melting crystal, careful not to touch the wires. It takes up more time than I thought it would, but I manage to cut it off, wincing as red-hot liquid burns my skin and makes my blisters pop. As Jax holds up the teetering structure, liquid crystal drips onto his arms, and he hisses at the sensation.

My nose is bleeding again, and my throat blazes with a hacking cough. The heat makes my face burn, and I yearn for relief. I still need to cut the response wire. I search desperately for the one that connects to the fuse, but there's no luck. It's then that I realize that the response wire is embedded deep inside the crystal. The timer continues to collapse. Now, we have 30 seconds left.

I reach for Proxy's blades and lower them into the cauldron. Blue aura kisses the eagle insignia as the radiation energy consumes it. If I fail, the knife's metal should cool it down enough to contain the explosion. Tightening my grip on my knife, I slip my hand through the opening I've made. Lesions rip through my flesh. A burst of flames brings a flash of crimson, melding my skin to the burning crystal. Tears singe my eyes. I can't move without ripping my arm out. The stench of burning flesh fills the cave, making my knees buckle.

"Jax, I think you should leave now." I try to hide the wavering in my voice as I plant my gaze on the ground. Actually, it might be too late now. He should've left seconds ago if he could find the strength to run. Still, it may be worth a shot.

"Aria, I'm not—"

"Go first. When I know you're far enough, I'll—"

He silences me with a kiss, parting my lips as our breaths mingle. I lean into him briefly, savoring the rhythmic movement of his warm lips on mine. He cups my cheek and holds me close. "Don't say anymore. I'm not leaving you." His voice is raspy as he catches his breath, holding my hand tight, his eyes wandering to the timer. I follow his gaze and feel a lump forming in my throat.

We have three seconds left.

There's a blinding flash of light. Billows of red, acidic clouds come straight for us. They sting and eat away at my skin. Fragments fly into the air, embedding themselves deep into my blistered body. My suit offers little protection against the fiery attack. The ceiling is blown off.

Jax squeezes my hand, giving me a weak smile. It's only then that I realized he used his body as a shield, so his back has the worst burns. But there must be a reason why we're still alive. I look closer at the crystal. The bottom half of the energy core froze solid by cutting the wires, stopping it from exploding completely. My vision is blurry. I can barely make out people in white coats barging in. They haul me onto a stretcher and strap me in. The Velcro pokes deep into my skin, so shifting even the slightest bit worsens the scorching sensation.

Conversations swirl around me, but the ringing in my ears makes them nothing more than faint buzzes. Cooling gel is slathered all over me. When I raise my head, I glimpse a needle filled with a sedative headed straight for my arm. The last thing I remember is someone impaling me with a piece of metal.

...

My senses gradually return to me as I open my eyes. I'm in a compartment just large enough for me. The white ceiling stares down at me. Its ambient lighting illuminates my skin but doesn't quite reach my legs. Stretching out my arms, I run my hands over them as if this is a dream. They're entirely healed, except for the scar across my stomach. My hands involuntarily move up to touch my face, patting the smooth skin like it doesn't belong to me.

Long intravenous tubes snake through each arm, going through my wrists and emerging on the other side. They're attached to a humming machine behind me. I try stretching to the side in the tiny enclosure, glad to find that the wound on my side doesn't hurt anymore. Outside, there are other compartments like mine. Most are empty, but other subjects are still unconscious and suspended like I am.

I touch the cold glass panel in front, leaving behind a clear palm print that quickly disappears. There's a soft beep and the lights around the panel glow green. The hydraulic hinges push the door outwards, shifting my compartment's angle until I stand straight. Taking a small tentative step, I feel the tension between my feet and the machine. Shackles bind my ankles together.

The sharp clicking of heels down the hallway jolts me out of my thoughts. They get louder, stopping abruptly at the door. Cleo doesn't bother looking at me. Her hands move like clockwork, reaching down to remove the shackles before moving to my arms. Dipping her hands into her coat pockets, she pulls out a necklace and hands it to me.

It's Mateo's. Dried blood splatters obscure his name. The hardened maroon layer smears onto my hands as I stare at the pendant.

"Why did you give this to me?" My question comes out more like a demand.

"To remind you of what you've lost." Cleo takes several steps toward me, and I instantly flinch away as she points her index finger at me.

She plucks out the intravenous tubes, ignoring the blood that spills out. Lifting my arms, she examines them from all sorts of awkward angles. At this point, I'm just amazed at how she hasn't dislocated them yet. The stream of crimson continues to flow, staining her white gown. Finally, she gives me a nod and pulls out a medicated cloth. The antiseptic smell is the same as the cloth Jax stole. She cleans the wounds, waiting until they heal before helping me outside.

Cleo's hands work furiously on the tablet, typing in words at a speed I never knew was possible. "Follow me," she says curtly as she grabs hold of my arm, leading me outside, where two Sentinels are ready and waiting. One of them wields a pair of handcuffs. They're reinforced with several layers of metal. As soon as they're secured around my wrists, sparks of electricity flare to life, burning them until they bleed. When it's done, I examine the burns and realize that slivers of my bone are visible. "Don't try anything." The other guard mocks wickedly in my ear.

Cleo walks calmly toward me and hands me a medicated towel. I wipe at the wounded areas, grimacing at the biting sensation of the antiseptic. My wrists are healed, but they still sting. Cleo leads the way, walking down the seemingly endless rows of doors. I pass by some rooms, surprised to see several others still unconscious. One of them looks eerily similar to Seth, almost like a photocopy of him. The sight sends chills down my spine.

We stop at one of the rooms. It's the only one with no windows and no surveillance cameras outside. With a swipe of her card, the door clicks open, and the Sentinels push me in, sitting me down in one of the luxurious waiting chairs. Meanwhile, Cleo disappears behind some curtains. I take note of my surroundings, scanning the four walls for any hidden cameras. There are none. It can only mean that Proxy is trying to hide, and I bet several other secrets are still hidden within these walls.

The reception area is made to look like a clinic with its expensive furniture. The temperature-taking machine is fake, and the wires of the queue-number monitor are severed from the wall. Cleo reemerges from the other side, fiddling and typing furiously on her tablet, her brows furrowed. When she finally looks up, she sighs and tugs me by the arm, pulling back the curtains to show a massive area. Two groups of cubicles are on either side of the walls, separated by the walkway.

She guides me to the left group of cubicles and takes off her glasses, casually holding them by her thumb and index finger. "We'll be taking your eggs."

As we stand there, I can vaguely hear whimpers and muted screams from the nearby cubicles. From the corner of my eye, I glimpse blood trickling through a crack at the bottom of my neighbor's door, followed by a loud thump.

I stare at the compartment before me. It slides open to reveal a mostly empty room with handcuffs and restraints. I hesitate, eyeing the Sentinels warily. They're expressionless, but one of them activates my electric handcuffs for a moment. It's a stark reminder that I don't have a choice. My mouth suddenly feels dry, and my throat parched.

Once they've shoved me inside, the door slams shut—the transparent door frosts over until it's completely opaque. The handcuffs snap around my wrists first, thrusting me against the wall. The restraints hold my arms and legs in place. Beneath me, another machine comes to life. It's a thin needle that pokes my side, making a drilling noise that I wish I could forget.

I'm breaking out in cold sweat, throwing my head back as it prickles my eyes. In doing that, I catch sight of a surveillance camera. I know that whoever is watching is silently enjoying this. I will not give them the satisfaction of seeing a teardrop or hearing a single cry escape my mouth. So, this is how they see us. We're no better than animals to be bred. We're thrown away and forgotten when it's all said and done. We have no will and no life. I know they'll use us until the day we're sucked dry to a husk.

My consciousness fades in and out. I don't know how much time has passed. By the time the drilling stops, Cleo's face comes into view. She hands me a healing pack. I hold it to my side, but it clenches my muscles; now, it's impossible to stand. The Sentinels support me by the arms, dragging my grazed knees on the rough floor until we reach the reception area again. They leave me on the ground this time while I'm still panting and bleeding. I know they just don't want me staining the expensive seats.

Cleo disappears again. While I wait, another pair of Sentinels emerges from the area, carrying a girl's limp body. She slumps to the floor, breathing heavily. It's Krystal. Her face is ashen, and I fear she won't last much longer. The healing pack passed by her doctor, barely out of her reach, lay at the side. The Sentinels shift positions, staring at her bare legs.

Slowly, I crawl to her and catch sight of the partial burn of the Outsider's insignia on her wrist. Her arms were scratched, and she had defensive wounds when she tried to fight back. Parting her hair, I nearly gasp at the scar on her neck where I think Scipio planted her device. Still trembling, Krystal's eyes roll into the back of her head, and she passes out. Her guarding Sentinels carry her away, smirking as they do.

Disgust twists at my core. I want to stand up and punch them, but my legs just fidget uselessly. Fury rises within me at their hushed words. It burns so much that I can feel my fists balled up. The odds are against me, but I realize I can't accept it anymore. I fight it. While the Sentinels standing on either side of me are still speaking, I seize the chance to lash out at one of them, clawing at him. I do whatever I can.

I keep going even as he tries to retaliate. The other guard strikes me hard on the head with his baton until I feel the hot trickle down my forehead. I'm even starting to taste some in my mouth. But it doesn't stop me. It's only when the electrical handcuffs are activated that I fall to my side. My Sentinels drag me away, shooting me stern glares.

Lifting my head slightly, I see expressionless doctors staring right at me through the control room. Their glares are unsettling, but I don't show it. I don't get how they can act like this is one of the most normal things. Maybe they're devoid of emotions. I mean real feelings, like sympathy. Perhaps they lost that since they joined Proxy.

Cleo finally returns, her eyes glossing over the mess as she makes her way to me. I need to find out Proxy's secrets. I stare at the access card hanging from her coat and snag it. My gown has no pockets, so I clip it close to the inner fabric and hope it doesn't slip. Otherwise, I'll take a bullet to the head in the blink of an eye.

It's standard protocol.