The Six: Genesis | A Reverse Harem Novel

Ninety-One

"Zhyv?" She grins at me, exposing a pair of dimples in her cheeks. "What the hell are you—? How are you? Wh—"

"A little birdy told me you needed saving," she shrugs, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "They were right. You look like shit, Hawthorne. I thought you were supposed to be the one handing out the ass kicking?"

"You try fighting three rogue Organisms in the dark with a bunch of people screaming..."

Casually, she raises an eyebrow—unimpressed. Scoffing, I roll my eyes. She has no room to talk.

"We can't all be indestructible, can we?"

Gracefully, her shoulders lift and fall as she shrugs. The mess lining up my skin helps a lot, but the force of those punches can't be ignored. Those Syndicates were enhanced beyond their normal capabilities. Whoever sent them knows I am augmented and had every intention of harming me.

My heart pings as my mind turns back to Jason. Was he alright? Did he—and the other passengers—make it out before everything blew? I hope so.

"Someone's snippy..."

"Considering I was nearly murdered a few hours ago," I stagger forward, "I think I have every excuse to be snippy. What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

Two figures leap out of the first black SUV, coming to stand near the rear of Zhyv's vehicle. I'd forgotten how big her men are. They remind me of Cedar's, tall and powerful, wearing matching ankle-length coats in all black. On each arm is Zhyv's crest, an homage to their wife.

"Don," I greet the first twin. He tilts his head but doesn't speak. "Vergil."

If it weren't for Vergil having white-blond hair and Don having coal hair, it would be impossible to tell them apart. They share the same intense blue eyes, straight nose, pink lips, and square jaw line. Their voices are even the same pitch.

Neither one speaks a word while Zhyv and I stand near her driver's side door. She doesn't acknowledge them beyond a nod and mischievous grin. Longing spears through me.

"Are you going to answer my question or leave me confused?"

"We'll talk in the car," she motions to the passenger side. "Get in."

As I buckle my seat belt, she drops a foil-covered oblong-shaped item on my lap. I pick it up, sniffing it curiously. "What is this?"

"Food," she answers, revving the engine as she speeds off. The tires spit fire and brimstone and the engine purrs so sweetly I want to ask to drive. "Which, obviously, is what you need."

Ripping open the package, I sink my teeth into the most succulent brisket I've ever tasted. Moaning, I damn near inhale the burrito and didn't blink when she hands me a second, third, and fourth. I'm so damn hungry.

"Better?"

I narrow my eyes at her. "How did you know where I was?"

"No one else on the planet suffers from randomized organisms strikes. I tracked their signals to triangulate your position and watched as they all went down." She glances at me. "When one didn't and slowly chopped its way the opposite way it came in, I knew it had to be you."

Her explanation makes my skin crawl. If she figured it out, it was only a matter of time before someone else did, too. Maybe the someone else who was following me.

Ice slides in my veins.

"Anyone else doing the same?"

"If they tried, I threw them off the trail. No way in hell I'm letting anyone use me to get to you or anyone else you care about."

I smile. "I know. Thank you."

We drove for another 200 kilometers before switching vehicles. Hours later, I sat outside of the Sinai-MorningStar Medical Center. At the door, Zhyv hands me a computer hard drive.

"This it?" I tease. "No lecture about returning home for the guys?"

Slowly, she shakes her head. "I can't make you go home if you don't want to."

"Okay," I roll my eyes. "Thanks, mom. I think I can handle it from here."

"You know you're making a mistake, right?"

I pause, glancing at her over my shoulder. "How am I making a mistake? They lied and nothing is stopping them from doing it again. I had every right to remove myself when it was clear no one was going to be accountable for their actions."

A conniving grin splits her lips. "I wasn't talking about the guys. I was talking about helping your boyfriend's sister."

Red-faced, I look away. Of course, she was talking about Talia.

"How could helping someone be a mistake?"

"Have you considered what it'll mean when you get caught?"

When I get caught... not if.

"I won't get caught."

"Okay, Hawthorne. We'll talk later." She points at the drive. "Let me know if you need any help with that."

She knows I won't ask. I can't. Involving her in this mess may exacerbate her own problems. Zhyv may not want to talk about it, but her world is ablaze, too.

When I reach Talia's room, she's alone. A million wires and tubes run from her body, hooking her up to machines affixed to the walls. At least the medical center adhered to my instructions and moved her to a private room in a different wing. Here, she'll receive the better attention, but it places me under a microscope.

Before anyone can walk in, I slip the syringe out of my pocket and open the bottom. The needle is useless since I saved Jason. However, the nanites can travel in any liquid. I move to the fluid gauges hanging over her head and dump the nanites directly into the blood they're transfusing. In less than two minutes, her vitals improved.

"Blue?" Throwing myself in Lewis' arms, I sink my hands into his thick hair and seal my lips to his.

Nothing like a near-death experience to make you appreciate life and all those in it. I cling to him until it's time to go to his place. The moment we cross the threshold, he withdraws from me and holds up his cell phone.

Unfortunately, I was wrong. I wasn't alone in Talia's room. Lewis has the video to prove it.

A two-minute long video featuring me tampering with Talia's medical equipment.

"You want to tell me what you gave her or do I need to call the police?"

"Lewis, I—"

"No!" He shouts. "What did you do? She was dying, but after you did what you did, her vitals improved—rapidly. So, what did you put in her blood? And who are you really? The hospital said a wealthy benefactor placed Talia in that ward. We don't have that kind of money."

"Lewis.... please..."

"Who are you?" He demands. "Or you have 30 seconds to get out of my life before I call the cops and report you. I googled your name, you know, and nothing came up."

"That's because the last name I gave was my mother's maiden name," I admit, anxiously creasing my hands together. "My real name is Blue Hawthorne."

His eyes widen. "The tech billionaire?"

"Yes."

His next sentence cuts off as heavy footsteps echo down his hall.

"Is anyone in your family staying here?"

"No."

But what comes around the corner isn't a member of his family—it isn't even human. An Organism clips the corner, a gun poised directly at my head. Its mechanical voice sends a tendril of fear down my spine.

"Target acquired."