Chapter 32

We head back to the first room, and I realize that the Sentinels make no effort to stop us. Cleo was telling the truth.

Once we're back inside, the air is clear again, and the other subjects start to regain consciousness. The girl lying next to me wakes up. She narrows her eyes, looking between me and the syringe in my grip. She feels her face and examines her hands as if she hadn't seen them before. Then, she drifts off. The door slams open again while the Sentinels drag the other immunes outside for treatment. Jax taps my shoulder, pointing ahead to the dustbin. I watch as he disappears past a small gap in the door left slightly ajar, syringes in hand.

From the corner of my eye, I catch Cleo staring at us from the observation panel at the far end of the room. She keeps her gaze straight ahead, folding her arms and tapping her foot impatiently. There's a timer hanging on the wall, and I wait until Cleo turns around before taking another peek. We have 14 minutes left.

I sigh, deciding instead to follow a guard's movements, wiping away at the stubborn stains. Blood and pus residue spread into streaks with each wipe, leaving behind the stench of cleaning solutions. My wounds have started acting up again as the drug wears off. The bleeding is slower than before, but it's still not stopping. I lift a hand to my temple, and a rough scab forms in place of the wound. My wrists are doing even worse than before, leaking pus and a clear liquid onto my skin.

Jax returns after waiting outside for some time. He slips inside, landing next to me as he pants furiously. We continue waiting like this, relief flooding my heart as the others start waking up. They're still semi-conscious now and can hardly sit up straight without slumping back down again. With each second passing, it takes all my willpower to keep my head down.

Cleo bursts through the door, gesturing for us to follow her. She scrunches her face, looking at us while we pass the observation panel. I tilt my head just enough to catch a glimpse of the government officials staring right at us. President Finley stands close to the window. I see an expression vaguely reminiscent of a smile for the first time, and I know we've passed. At least, I think we did.

Again, we're handcuffed and led to an elevator. I try to hold in a yelp as the metal rubs against my raw wounds. As soon as we step inside the lift, we're greeted by security cameras in all four corners. I put my head down, allowing myself one last bite of my lip before looking up. If they saw my discomfort, I would've lost the battle with myself. Jax strokes my fingers, his cuffs bumping against mine. It renews my pain, and I bite hard on my chapped lips. He lets out an apologetic gasp, earning him a hard smack on the head by a guard.

When the lift doors open, a gust of stale air whips against my face. It feels humid, like the air conditioning hasn't been functioning for months. There's a dentist's chair in the middle of the room. A long tube runs from the base of the chair and hooks around an old machine. We sit on the ground, waiting to be called one at a time to the chair.

A lanky, red-headed boy comes up first. He can barely walk straight before sinking into the chair. Cleo sighs as she starts up the machine and straps him in. The backrest comes up, forcing him into a sitting position. A laser starts, working at the Greek Alpha symbol burned into his wrist. "This is the mark of the Paired," Cleo announces.

The boy struggles in the restraints, trying to wriggle his arm out of the way. The more he writhes and fights against the straps, the worse the burn. I can vaguely hear the subtle sizzling of skin, but I resist the urge to place my hands over my ears. Cleo rolls up his sleeve, which makes him struggle even more. He screams and shouts, shaking the entire chair. It's not until she injects him with two doses of sedatives that we have some peace. The machine works at the barcode on his arm, lasering it off until that layer of skin falls off. The wound is promptly covered with a bandage, and he is dragged off to the next room.

Soon, it's my turn. Cleo doesn't take another look at me as I step into the rock-hard chair. The automatic straps are coming from the side press down hard on me. They get tighter and tighter until my breath comes short and shallow, though I try to keep my breathing as soft as possible. Eyeing the security camera above, I put on a straight face as the machine begins working on my wrist.

My nails dig into my palm as I hear the flesh sizzle. With every second, I clench my fists even tighter. The smell of burning flesh wafts to my nose, and the fumes make my eyes tear. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to keep staring at the wound like it doesn't affect me. A red path of blood traces the design, falling into the collection bucket below. Cleo finally makes eye contact with me, a flicker of surprise flitting across her features. I know she expected a reaction from me, but under the watchful eye of a Proxy officer, not a single cry escaped my lips.

She rolled my sleeve just as I thought the worst part was over. I'm hardly even done when she starts up the machine again. The laser hits the sides of my fingers, making the sides bleed. Then, I watch the machine do its worst. My free hand grips the edges of the seat as the laser carves out the Greek Omega symbol. The old skin falls away to reveal the vulnerable pink skin beneath. Crimson drips from the small holes made in the flesh. Some of it falls into the bucket, while the rest ends on the chair.

Cleo gives me a pointed look. "This is the mark of the Unpaired."

By the time I'm done, both arms are numb. Except for the parts where I was lasered, the other areas look unusually pale. I'm brought into the next room with multiple machines. I head to one of the booths, where there's a jelly-like substance waiting for me. Without thinking, I walk straight into it. It molds to my body shape, and I feel an itching sensation traveling throughout my body. Starting from my wounds, they roam every part of me.

New skin fibers entangle and weave through one another, forming a layer over the raw burn. My head injuries take the longest to heal, but they finally stop bleeding. For once, I don't feel like my head's about to explode from a constant migraine. I don't even have time to revel in my newfound reprieve before the booth slides open again. A guard shoves me, pulling me from the only comfort I've known in a while.

My skin is still slightly pink, but it looks much better now. I'm led back into the other room, where we wait for the rest to finish. Jax's skin is completely formed over to reveal the Paired mark. For now, the symbol remains blurred but recognizable. Once everyone is done, we're handed a fresh set of clothes. They're pajamas. The fabric is yellowed at the edges, making the faded grey stripes stand out even more. It's what Father used to wear right until he was executed.

Jax places an arm around me, his hand sliding down to my arm. He doesn't say anything, and I'm grateful for that. His fingers are twined with mine as our group follows Cleo to another section.

Down the hallway, the corridors converge into a path straight ahead. The concrete flooring gives way to a golden expanse of marble. Rows of doors are stacked on each other, floor after floor. We're all assigned rooms for the night, and the Sentinels watch outside our doors. Rolling up my sleeves, I see reddened marks around my arms, some parts turning slightly purple. Maybe, it's because I'm Unpaired.

"Did they do that to you?" Jax's face is suddenly very close to mine. In the sleeve of his pajamas, I see a blade peeking out. His fingers trace the blunt edge of it, coming ever so close to slitting his finger every time.

I drag him to a corner, away from prying eyes. "How did you—"

"Just keep it with you." He takes my hand and slips the knife to me. The metal feels colder than ice, setting my nerves ablaze with the biting sensation. I tuck the blade away, but he still doesn't let go of my other hand. His body is taut with tension, and he lets out a long breath, absently twisting my hair into ringlets. "Wait for me, Aria. I'll find you later tonight."

His gaze grows distant as he walks me to my room, and a crease slowly appears between his furrowed brows. I'm thinking of asking him if there's anything wrong, but I give his hand a reassuring squeeze instead. He'll talk when he's ready like he always does. When I step inside, I'm greeted by the warm scent of sandalwood and roses. After being surrounded by plants and fruits that taste and smell like metal, it's a welcome change. A hot meal sits on a tray, but I ignore that for now. Through the door's crack, I see a subtle blush rise to his cheeks as he takes his leave.

My rucksack lies in the corner, looking like it could burst at any time. As soon as I open it, bits of cloth fly at me. The inside is shredded, and all the compartments have been ripped apart. My paintings are gone. I turn my bag upside-down, burying myself in a mess. Wiping away at my damp cheeks, I rest against the wall as the weariness eats away at me. The only source of comfort is a window that overlooks the dreary silhouettes of trees, giving me a clear view of the artificial sky. It's cracked from Eorius's explosion, but it's still holding up.

It takes me several minutes of searching to come to terms with myself. I sigh, throwing the bag off to the side. Flashes of Father's last moments come rushing at me. The way he stared at me through his foggy eyes before he closed them forever. I still remember the way Mother clawed through the soil just before the bullet of a Sentinel kissed her temple, and she screamed until the breath left her lungs. Old emotions come at me like arrows. Only this time, I don't feel sorrow or the usual ache in my chest.

I feel fear.

It's the fear of forgetting what she looks like, as with everyone ever taken from me. I search the room for some paper and a pencil. Since there's no paint, I'll work with what I have. My hands start with tentative strokes, gradually building up the shadings. I erase every line that isn't supposed to be there until I have Mother's face spread over the sheet. Under the waxing moonlight, the swaying trees cast shadows over the canvas. The night deepens as I continue drawing everyone else. That includes Seth, even though I've never met the real one who got away.

By the time I'm done, I think hours have gone by. Soon, it'll be daybreak. I pick up the cloth fragments, sandwiching the flimsy pieces of paper between them. Tomorrow, everything we own will be sent back home. As I stare at my handiwork, I feel my stomach churn. My gaze instantly flies to the meal wrapped in foil, and I peel the shiny covering open. The meat stew has gone cold now, forming a thin film of oil and fat on top. I gobble it up in a flash, the familiar taste soothing my protesting hunger pangs. The small portion did little to satisfy me for too long, so I grabbed some expired cereal bars.

I shouldn't have done that. Now, I feel more awake than ever. No matter how I toss and turn, sleep doesn't come.

While I stare at the ceiling and count sheep in my mind, a low buzzing from the transmitter cuts through the silence. As I pick it up, its screws fall on my hand and roll off the bed. Turning the device around, I open the loosened compartment that is now a tiny square-shaped device. I stick my pinky finger inside and take it out to reveal a microphone and nano recorder device. They wiretapped it.

An urgent knock on the door jolts me out of my scrutiny. I jump up and check the peephole before letting Jax inside. He reaches for me, but I slink out of his grasp, gesturing to the transmitter tucked away snugly in his hand. He cocks his head quizzically as he hands it to me. The screws are also a little loose. Whoever did this was either inexperienced or was doing a rushed job. Using my fingernails, I pry it open, wincing as the serrated edges scratch me a little. Jax's eyes widen while he examines the tracker. I crush the chip until it stops glowing. For added safety, I throw the chip and the device out the window.

"Thanks." The corners of his lips curve into a smile. He brings his arms around me and presses a kiss on my forehead.

His gaze wavers, and his expression briefly clouds over. It's only for a fleeting moment, but I know that look all too well. His sleeve lifts a little, and I almost stop breathing. He must've seen my reaction because his smile falters. An Unpaired mark is printed beneath his skin. The pigments are still fresh and blurry, but the design is unmistakable.

"Why?" My voice comes as a cracked squeak, and I shift away from him.

"I couldn't—"

"Don't. You have a life to live, and you shouldn't waste it away. Jax, my life after this is nothing. There's nothing to look forward to, and who knows how long we'll be Unpaired?" My hands are trembling, and my face grows hot. He tries to reach for me, but I shake my head. "What did it cost?"

He rubs his neck and stares at the wall. "It doesn't matter."

"Once you're Paired, you belong to the government, which means they've got plenty of benefits for your mom too. You can't give that up because of me. It's... I'm not worth it."

"You're giving up on us?" Jax's voice is quiet, his lips drawn into a hard line.

"All I'm saying is that you deserve more than I can give. Have anything and everything you could ever want. There's still time to change your mind because once the ink settles, it's done." I want to tell him not to put everything on hold because of me, but the words are coiled tightly in my throat.

Jax looks at his arm, where the dark pigments are still floating around. "I already have what I want."

His lips cover mine. Slowly, he backs me against the wall, and I gasp as my hip presses against the bed frame. For a while, a selfish part of me relishes in his taste and feel, and I allow it until my mind hangs on the last thread of coherent thought. Snapping out of the dizzying trance, I place a hand on his chest and give him a light push. "Trust me. You'll regret it when you think about what I've taken away from you. At least think about it."

"Aria, you just don't get it." He wrenches himself from me like he'd just been burned, heading out the door without another backward glance.

I fear the most; that either of us would give up anything to protect the other. That emotional vulnerability scares me. It's like peeling away the layers of ourselves, wondering if the person beneath is worth fighting for.

Three light raps on the window jolt me out of my thoughts, followed by a scratching sound like a branch scraping across the glass. I pull the curtains back, watching as another rock skids across the glass. Xavier puts the other rocks down and heads toward me. His lips are set in a thin line, and the synthetic skin on his arms is worn away to reveal his metallic body. Sliding the window open, he peers inside, giving it a quick once-over before turning back to me. "You're in the dorms now, Aria. Remember our deal?"

"Get to the security box in the first tunnel."

The ghost of a smile spreads across his lips. "Go to the restrooms and find the trapdoor that leads to the tunnel. Keep walking straight until you see a white box."

Before I can ask any more, he takes off into the night. Glancing at the door, I bite my lip and hide Jax's knife beneath the bed. This place is on maximum security tonight, so I doubt anything would get past the Sentinels. I gingerly crack the door open, only to meet the scowling face of a Sentinel. "What do you want?"

"I just need to use the restroom, that's all."

She studies my expression for a while, trying to see if I'm lying. I keep my gaze steady on her for a few excruciating seconds until she finally nods. "I'll have to pat you down first."

While she frisks me, I hold my breath and hope I don't have anything on me. Every time she pauses, the pounding of my blood in my ears intensifies, growing louder and smothering the sounds of my stuttered breathing.

"All good to go." She gives me a curt nod and heads down the hallway, securing my wrists with handcuffs along the way. I keep my head down the entire time, pretending to be too afraid to look up. Wiping my clean hands on the hem of my shirt, my hands shaking as I do so. Watching her expression from the corner of my eye, I think she buys my nervous act, at least to some extent.

The Sentinel rounds the corner and shoves me inside the cubicle.

Running my hands over the tiles, I squint and try to make out if there's anything different about them. But there's nothing. Then, I stand on the toilet bowl and reach for the window. Though it's heavily tinted, I can make out a little of the field outside and the tell-tale signs of a trap door. It peeks out from among the mutated weeds.

While the Sentinel guards me, there's a loud crashing sound outside, followed by shrill screaming. The frantic noises of her transmitter make her curse, and she goes to check on the commotion.

"Xavier said that you might need a distraction, so that's what we're here for." Someone whispers from the next cubicle. "Hurry before she gets back."

I mutter my thanks and slip through the window. Luckily, the restrooms are on the first level, and I pick up the pace quickly. The chilly air bites my skin. As my cheeks start to warm, I reach the trapdoor and hook my fingers through the handle.