The Scarlet Dagger (The Red Sector Chronicles, #1)

Chapter 4

If I thought my head hurt before, it was nothing compared to now. My initial reaction when I first registered the pain was to go back to sleep. I squeezed my eyes shut, so focused on the relentless throbbing that I almost missed the hushed argument taking place beside me.

"What were you thinking in bringing her here?" hissed a distinctly French-accented voice. "She should be moved immediately, if it's not too late. You've jeopardized our safety, and hers, enough as it is."

My insides cringed at the anger in her voice. Paris. What does she mean? Am I in some kind of danger? To me, it seemed like the worst had already happened, as the hunter had now become one of the hunted.

"What other choice did I have?" countered Aden. "We'll never, ever get another opportunity like this. Fate has sent us a gift!"

"It has sent us a curse!" Paris took a deep breath, as if trying to compose herself. "We should tell Frost."

"Absolutely not. Frost can't be trusted. She'll leak that the girl's here." Aden paused. "I think we're overreacting. We should just lie low. She'll be far safer here than in the city."

My head hurt even more with the added weight of confusion. Who was Frost? And what city were they talking about? Pittsburgh, or rather, what was left of it? Why wasn't I safe?

On impulse, I tried to sit up. White hot pain shot through my core, and I fell back onto the pillows with a stifled cry. Cold metal pressed against my wrists, and when I moved my arms, they would hardly lift from the bed railing. I glanced to either side; someone had cuffed me to the bed. A bandage had been taped to the middle of my right arm, which was sore and bruised from multiple needle pricks. The sheer thought of having my blood drawn turned me green, overpowering my curiosity at why it had been necessary. I didn't want to think about it; otherwise, I might vomit.

Immediately, Paris was at my side, checking my vitals. "She's steady. But I bet she has a nasty headache." The last part sounded like she had said it with a smile.

"Paris," Aden warned, and she smirked, walking away. Through the flood of light, I traced the concern on Aden's face as he leaned over me. "How are you feeling?"

"What were you two talking about, just now?" I asked, ignoring his question altogether. I trusted him about as much as the bus driver I'd interacted with... how many nights ago was it? One? Seven? I wondered how long I had been gone.

I have to get out of here. But first, I need some answers.

I looked at Aden expectantly, and Paris stepped up to the bed. "That's not your concern," she said, crossing her arms.

"No," Aden said, keeping his eyes on mine. They somewhat softened as I returned his understanding gaze with a petulant glare, warning him not to toy with me. "She deserves to know. Besides, I'm sure she has a lot of questions."

That's an understatement. Admittedly, I was a bit surprised he had agreed to tell me anything at all, though I had no idea exactly how much of what he said was one hundred percent true.

Paris pursed her lips, her beautiful face all soured up, but I spoke anyway. "Where are we? And don't say in a hospital."

Aden's mouth turned up in the corner. "We're underground, about two hundred feet directly below Pittsburgh, to be exact."

That explains the bizarre power outages. I bet they have to tap into the White Sector's power supply to run this place.

"Paris and I" – he gestured between them – "are part of an independent military faction called the Syndicate. You're in the medical wing of our training academy. Dr. De Lange here is the Chief of Surgery and an expert in hematology, or 'the study of blood.'"