Chapter 147

Chapter 147
Alina's POV

When I woke again, light was seeping through the gap in the curtains, casting a thin, elongated ribbon of brightness across the white ceiling.

I tried to move my fingers, and a dull ache shot through the tips. Looking down, I found all ten of them wrapped tightly in gauze, thick padding cushioning the pads, the edges seeping with a faint yellow tint of medicine. Several scrapes on my arms had been treated too—dabbed with ointment and bound in thin gauze. My elbow was the worst; the raw, torn skin had been cleaned, and the swollen, reddened edges glistened with a film of salve.

When I braced myself against the edge of the bed and sat up, every bone in my body protested. The wounds on my knees and elbows made my movements heavy, and the muscles of my lower back and spine ached as though they'd been crushed—the price of carrying Lowell for so long. Still, I gritted my teeth, straightened my body, and lowered both legs to the floor.

"You're awake?"

Megan pushed the door open, and seeing me seated at the edge of the bed, she hurried over. She set the cup of water in her hand on the nightstand and settled into the chair beside the bed.

Dark circles ringed her eyes—clearly she hadn't slept well for several nights—and her gaze brimmed with worry as it fell on me.

Seeing me start to rise, she quickly caught hold of me. "Hey, where are you going?"

"Wherever I need to go," I said without lifting my head, struggling to reach for my clothes, which had already been washed.

"You still need to rest!"

"I don't," I said, pulling the coat over my shoulders and dragging my aching body toward the door. "I know my own body."

"What about Lowell?" Megan called after me, unwilling to let it go. "Don't you even want to know how he's doing?"

"If he were dead, it'd be on the news. I wouldn't need you to tell me."

An awkward silence spread through the air. Clearly the words had left Megan speechless; it was a long moment before she managed a muffled reply. "Won't you go see him? He's awake now—regained consciousness this morning. I told him you carried him back. He wants to see you very much."

"No," I answered calmly. "He and I have nothing to say to each other."

"Alina." Megan's voice softened. "You carried him all that way. All ten of your fingers are torn raw, your knees are covered in blood. If you didn't care about him, why would you go that far?"

"I don't want to owe him anything. He took a bullet for me, I carried him back. We're even."

It was a while before Megan shook her head. "Do you really think it's that simple—being even? When you saw him at the bar, you could have turned around and walked away, but you left with him. When you were down at the bottom of the cliff, you could have abandoned him and gone off alone, but you carried him back instead. You say you don't owe him anything, but everything you've done says you care!"

Her words landed on my ears like a dull blade scraping across skin, leaving a deep mark behind.

I clenched the fingers hanging at my side. The gauze rubbed against the wounds, and the dull pain sharpened my mind a little.

"I looked into the old case files," Megan said, watching me. "About what happened to your parents—Lowell's father was indeed the nominal controlling figure of that company, but he'd been forced into the position. He'd been trying all along to sever that connection. The person truly responsible for leaking your parents' information was someone on Antonio's side, who passed those details along without Lowell's father even knowing."

"And do you know why Lowell sought you out this time? It's because he wants to make Antonio set the record straight in front of you about what happened back then! Neither he nor his father ever wronged your family! Are you really going to be this cold-hearted to the very end?!"

Silence stretched through the room for several seconds. I turned on my heel and walked to the door.

"Alina." Seeing me about to leave, Megan's voice came from behind me, tinged with reluctance and grief. "Where are you going?"

"Don't worry about it," I said, pulling the door open. "Thank you for looking after me all this time."

I didn't wait for her to say anything more before stepping through that door.

The corridor was quiet, the curtains half-drawn, the daylight outside gray and dull.

I walked downstairs and pushed open the door to the street. When the cold wind rushed in, I drew a deep breath, then set off along the road, leaving Megan's place behind.

After that, I went to the black market.

I hadn't been to that street in a long time. It was still tucked away among a row of abandoned industrial buildings, more desolate by day than by night. Most of the storefronts hung half-open, their sheet-metal roofs glinting a rusty red in the sunlight.

I walked a stretch down the street and stopped in front of an unremarkable stall. The man behind it raised his head to glance at me, then lowered it again, continuing to wipe down the metal tube in his hands.

"I need something," I said, my voice hoarse.

"What?"

"Poison. Fast-acting. The kind with no antidote."

The man's hands stilled. He looked up at me again, his gaze lingering for a moment on my gauze-wrapped fingers, then he set down the metal tube, bent over, and dragged an iron box out from beneath the stall. He rummaged through it for a while before producing a glass vial the size of a thumb and setting it on the counter. The bottle was dark, the liquid inside impossible to make out.

"This one—three drops is enough. No antidote, and no one can trace where it came from. It doesn't come cheap."

I didn't haggle. I pulled the money from my pocket, laid it on the counter, took the glass vial, and tucked it into the inside pocket of my coat.

After leaving the black market, I didn't head straight back to the Adams estate. Instead I took a detour, turning into a relatively secluded street, and leaned against a wall sheltered from the wind, huddling into my coat.

My knees still ached faintly, and my gauze-bound fingers made movement awkward. I slipped my hands into my pockets, and through the layers of gauze my fingertips brushed the cold surface of the glass vial.

My mind was full of what Megan had just said.

If you didn't care about him, why would you go that far?

I closed my eyes and rested the back of my head against the rough brick wall. The cold wind poured in through my collar, sending a shiver through me.

I would use this vial of poison on Adams. He had to die.