Rekkan dragged me back toward the camouflaged entryway. Ahead, cheerful groups of Southies and Northerners — and even a few with mixed company — mingled near the lounge, fitness center, and playground. I spotted a few of my climbers. Before anyone noticed us, Rekkan tugged me left down the Northerner corridor.

When we were both inside his room with the door locked, I rubbed my arms, fighting a lingering chill. "Well, I guess the Head Chef is not Ivogg."

Rekkan paced from wall to wall. "And we can't ask him why he wrote what he wrote in your mother's journal, either. We still know basically nothing, the Head Chef seems to have more power than anyone else here, and I can't get to my rifle or get us out or here without alerting the Head Chef. Fuck, this is worse than the Implant Era."

"To be fair, you rather liked the Implant Era. I remember a line about sipping whiskey."

"That was before I had you."

He delivered the line like a simple fact, nothing more. Still, my heart swooped. I would have kissed him right then but for the stern line of his brow.

I propped my hands on his desk behind me. "Well, at least the Implant is not making anyone violent this time."

"Yet. If these ones are still under the Head Chef's control, I'm sure he can choose to make them violent whenever he wants."

"Well, at least we are down to only two suspects."

He threaded his fingers through his hair, and his eyes darted to his desk. "One of whom is my uncle."

I followed his gaze to see a familiar photo—the young couple with the little boy. The little boy smiled back at me, flashing pearly whites. Fuck, he looked so happy. All three did. Tears pricked my eyes.

Quiet footsteps approached, and strong arms wrapped around me from behind. "Hey, what happened? Why are you crying?"

"I'm not." I scrubbed away the pesky excess moisture. "I just... they were really in love, weren't they? Serigg and Mekkar."

His hum of confirmation vibrated against my back.

"What will you do if I become ugly?"

His laugh spilled warm breath onto my neck. "I will never find you ugly."

I mumbled a half-joking question. "What if I lose my hair?"

His reply rang dead serious. "Wouldn't matter."

I broke free from his arms to turn toward him. "If my face gets destroyed?"

He traced a thumb over my cheek with an amused smile. "Zaf, if I lost my leg, would you still find me attractive?"

"Uh... you did lose your leg."

"And?"

"And you're fucking sexy."

"Because of the bionic leg, or in spite of it?"

I furrowed my brow. "Neither. It's just part of you. And I like every part of you."

He tilted his head. "So there's your answer."

I hid my smile in his chest, and his arms settled over my back, stroking my spine.

The "Freedom" song flooded the halls and infiltrated the room, destroying the moment. After Ivogg's chilling rendition, the tinny blare of speakers rattled my ears and curdled my gut.

"Well, that's curfew," I said. "I guess I better go back to my room."

"So Uzmed can wake you up with a knife to the throat? No. Stay here."

"But it's the rule. And I could learn something more about Uzmed."

"Fuck if I care. After what we just saw, you're not sleeping without me."

I placed my palms on his chest. "Rekkan, I don't need you to take care of me all the time."

"But I need it." Rekkan looked as surprised by his own statement as I was, but after a quick intake of breath, he doubled down on the statement. "If you want me in your life, you have to let me protect you." His hands enveloped mine, pressing them to his chest. Through the flannel, I felt the heat of his skin and the steady beat of his heart. "I need that."

His disarming sincerity punched a hole through all of my arguments. And my answer felt so easy; so right.

"Yeah, ok. I'll stay."

* * *

I awoke in Rekkan's arms. His chest warmed my back, and his soft breaths shuffled through my hair. For several blissful minutes, I just basked in the safety and warmth. Then the "Freedom" song announced the end of curfew, and Serigg, Figgel, and Mazamu entered.

Serigg perched on the end of the bed where Rekkan and I still sat. Figgel and Mazamu both scrambled for the chair, shoulders jostling and bony hips colliding in an attempt to claim it for themself. Finally, they shared the chair. As we filled them in on what we had seen, they faced opposite ways with their legs crossed in a mockery of elegance.

"Well, this sounds promising," said Figgel, fixing a pin on her coiffed gray hair. "We've eliminated a suspect!"

Serigg frowned. "More like the Head Chef has eliminated a threat. Ivogg must have been onto something, and he revealed his suspicions to either Uzmed or Mek..." Her eyes darted to Rekkan, and her frown deepened. "Mekkar."

I glanced between Serigg and Rekkan. Neither of them quite respected Mekkar, but both seemed reluctant to believe that he could be responsible for all of these Implants and deaths. However, with only two real suspects remaining, that possibility was impossible to ignore.

"Does it have to be Mekkar or Uzmed?" I said. "Or could there be a third option we've overlooked?"

Serigg shook her head. "Your mother told me one of the Sentries created the Implant. Arakko's body was found, and your mother, Zhina, and Ivogg have all been Implanted. There were only seven of us."

"But are you sure there wasn't an eighth Sentry? My mother said they were half Northerners and half Southies. Also, one of the children was talking about Ivogg's Southie brother. Obviously that doesn't make sense, but what if there's another man in the Seven Sentries who looks a lot like Ivogg but is a Southie?"

"I'm pretty sure I would know if there was an eighth sentry," said Serigg, "Especially if they were part of the group way back before the Implant Era."

I sighed. "I just feel like there's some secret we haven't unburied... something going on we're not understanding."

Serigg smoothed an old scar on her warped hands, eyes distant. "I think we should stick to our current suspects for now. We need more information on how this operation is working so we can shut it down."

A contemplative silence settled over the room. Or at least, Serigg and Rekkan and I contemplated. Figgel picked at peeling magenta nail polish, and Mazamu drooped back against her, snoring lightly.

Rekkan broke the silence with an unexpected suggestion. "I'll enter the lab and look around some more."

Serigg and I both huffed protesting exhales. "It's too dangerous," I said.

"And it wasn't when you went in?"

"That was before we knew as much. That was before we saw how willing the Head Chef is to cook anyone standing in the way."

"The lab experts said they were worried about you, Zhina, and Serigg putting the pieces together. They are not worried about me. They assume I don't care."

Serigg laid a hand on his Rekkan's calf, almost instinctively, but when he raised an eyebrow, she quickly withdrew. "You would have no excuse for entering, Rekkan. They know you're not interested in science, so what reason would you give for being there?"

"Finding Fluffy," he said.

"What?" Serigg and I intoned in unison.

"Zaf said they've seen cockroaches in the lab before. I'll say I'm looking for mine."

Optional feedback time! If you feel so inspired, drop an inline comment to let me know your thoughts on:

Favorite characters?

Theories/speculation? How is the Implant happening? Or is it an Infection? And who is Head Chef?

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