Fathoms Below

Chapter 9: Rule #3

The cut ran deep, revealing tissue beneath Adelaide never wanted to see again. She hissed in pain as Seymour cleaned the wound. He glanced up, but didn't stop, letting the alcohol burn as he poured it over her shoulder.

"You're doing that on purpose," she growled, her muscles tensing as he dabbed the liquid away with a clean cloth.

"Maybe." His smirk wasn't comforting, and she fought the urge to jerk away. After a moment, he spoke again, his voice soft. "I wasn't lying."

"I know." Adelaide didn't meet his gaze, biting down on her tongue to keep the tears shining in her eyes from spilling out. "I should have believed you."

"I've only ever tried to protect you, Addy." He positioned her in the chair so they were face to face, prepping the needle and thread for sewing her back up. 60/40 shot at infection, he'd said.

"I have to go back."

Adelaide's assertion stopped Seymour mid-stitch. He stared at her, his rugged skin paling.

Blinking back to his usual scowl, he shook his head. "You can't go back." He stuck the needle into her shoulder. Biting back a cry, Adelaide suffered through the stitches, waiting until he'd finished to dare speak again.

"I'm not going to let Ro's death be the end of it. I'm not letting Pheron win." She leaned away from him, lest he get any ideas she needed more done to her shoulder.

"Adelaide." Seymour pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep sigh that moved his whole body. "You can't do it. You can't stop him. It's the end, and that's that." He looked away, his jaw clenched. "You'll survive. You don't need to worry about the rest of us."

"There could still be millions of humans on this earth. I'm not going to watch you or anyone else die while I have the power to stop it."

"A power you don't even know how to use."

"It doesn't matter. I'll figure it out." Adelaide looked away from him, knowing he'd see the lie if she met his gaze.

"He'll kill you if you go. You realize that, don't you?"

"And if I don't go, millions die."

"Millions might die even if you do."

"Might." She poked his chest with her finger. "There's a chance for them – for you. I won't waste it."

"But—"

"No, Sey. For the last six years I've followed your rules, listened, been a good little girl. It's kept me alive, yes, but it hasn't allowed me to live. I know you don't think it's possible, but I can feel it, deep inside." She beat her fist against her chest. Tears tightened her throat. "For once, I need to listen to myself and trust myself. I know that I can do this. Please, believe in me the way I've always believed in you. Let me try and save you for once."

Seymour didn't meet her gaze, but she could see his eyes shining as he stared at the table. With a grunt, he cleared his throat.

"And what happens if we survive, but you don't? What am I supposed to do without you?"

Adelaide forced herself to her feet, staring down at him. Cupping his chin in her hand, she forced him to look up at her.

"You live, Seymour. For both of us." At the pained horror in his eyes, she broke a small smile for levity. "I'm coming back. Trust me."

Seymour turned away. "Trust you." He shook his head. "That's the last thing my father ever said to me."

"Your father?"