Page 53 of Wallflower

He huffs, clearly flustered. “Rude. But no, I didn’t infiltrate it yet. There are some things you have to know though. The bio-identification program he’s customized to his liking will kill you if your blood isn’t in the system.”

“I know this. I told you that.”

“Well, what you don’t know, oh marvellous one…”

I roll my eyes.What an ass.

“Is that within a millisecond of the system rejecting you, another needle will prick you. This time instead of taking your blood for analysis, it will inject you with locally sourced snake venom. The vipers are milked in-house, and without the antidote, your death will be excruciating. You’ll die within the hour, Rip. If not sooner.”

“Well, fuck.”

“There may not even be an anti-venom.”

“You think he poached some snakes off the guarded island?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Double fuck.”

“Yeah. So…umm…”

“Stay the fuck away from the system—Got it.”

“Don’t even look at it.”

“Any more news? Preferably good this time.”

“Uhh, I’m not constipated anymore.”

I heave in a long breath. Any other day, my friend would have me laughing. But today, when I am seconds away from clawing out of my own skin, I can’t deal with it.

My exhale is just as time consuming as I take a moment to rein myself in. “Glad to hear it man. You can’t be so uptight all the time.”

He chuffs a laugh. “Yeah, well…this shit is stressful.”

“I know, Buck, but you have to let me do what I need to. The plan is good. We all agreed. Just ‘cause we’re besties…” Bucky groans, and I fight the chuckle tickling the back of my throat, “doesn’t mean I can slack. We all have a part to play. Me, you, and Ky are the most important pieces.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“I know. Get some rest now that the boulder in your gut is gone.”

“Shut up.”

Ending the call, I make for the shower, placing the burner phone on the counter next to the sink. I turn the faucet on, pulling the lever to start the shower head, allowing it to heat up while I undress.

Tugging off my t-shirt, I gaze upon my reflection. My body looks the same—tanned…muscular, only now there are two scars marring their way through my black-work chest tattoo. Abullet pierced through the hand of the demon hiding behind the negative space sternum and bones, puncturing my lung. The second grazed across my chest, creating a long grotesque scar over my heart. The same type of mark lingers beneath the facial reconstruction. Albeit smaller, it still stained my cheek with the memories of that day.

The phone rings again as my fingertips trace the marks. “Shantel” lights up the screen, and as much as I know I’ll regret it, I ignore the call. Stripping off my remaining clothes, I step beneath the scalding spray.

“Honey, I’m home,” Sam chortles as he strides into my new room.

There’s no point in responding.

Not with Brad’s beer can of a dick clogging up my throat.

Pumping his hips harder, he soaks up the shocked look on his co-worker’s face.

Sam’s expression flicks to anger in an instant as he storms across the blossom room. Apparently every wing in this house is named after a colour, and the rooms in that wing are variations of that main colour. I don’t know, it’s fucking stupid. According to Karson, the colours are a guide to what goes on in that wing. Like some sort of fucked up coding system. He tells me Chelsea’s in a room where she’s in charge the majority of the time, andwhen I probe further as to what that fucking means, he won’t tell me. Probably because it will reveal too much about himself since he’s taking up a chunk off her time.