CHAPTER 22
CHEAT THE SYSTEM

GALLANT went in for his interview as soon as the meeting ended. Coraline spent that entire time barfing up the cube they ate for dinner that evening, the memory of Michael's stare haunting her brain. She sat by the bathroom in her suite for almost an hour, waiting for the sickness to stop. Once she was sure that everything was finally out of her system, she wiped underneath her nose and flushed the toilet.

There were tears in her eyes. Coraline hated that she always cried while vomiting. She looked herself in the mirror and rubbed at her eyes. "This isn't happening," she whispered, grabbing a towel and scrubbing at her face. Before she could stop herself, Coraline began to scream into her towel.

She didn't think it was that loud. In actuality, the shriek pierced every ear inhabiting the second floor. It was something out of a horror movie, a wailing cry that someone made as the murderer raised an axe to their head. Coraline thought the scream was muffled as she pressed her face further into the towel, remembering Michael's cold gaze, remembering the way their connection was still there, remembering the way his suit clung to his body –

A knock sounded on her door.

She gasped, throwing the towel to the floor. Biting her lip, she almost expected – or wanted – it to be Michael, but she was wrong. As she cracked open the door just a smidge, Coraline was greeted with the sight of a confused Gallant. She pressed her face into the crack and snapped, "What is it?"

"You look like you've seen a ghost," he chuckled softly.

Coraline swallowed hard. "Maybe I have."

Gallant nodded and cleared his throat. "Well, I just came to check on you. I heard you scream, so –"

"Forget about that," Coraline muttered. She looked around the barren hall and quickly yanked Gallant inside her suite. He stumbled back for a moment as she locked the door shut, straightening her spine. "Did you just get back from your interview?"

Gallant shrugged. "Uh – yeah, why?"

Coraline narrowed her eyes and lifted her hands. Was he seriously being this dense right now?

A moment later, a sly smirk tugged at the ends of his lips. "Ah, so that's what this is about." He fell back on the bed, propping his elbows up and crossing his legs over each other. "You want to know what to expect."

Something like that, Coraline thought to herself.

"He's quite the interesting man," Gallant sneered, looking at his cuticles. "Smells great too, like roses. I almost forgot what those smelled like from being holed up in here for so long. But I think I found my way out, Cora. This interview may have opened up the door for me."

Coraline licked her lips and walked over to sit on the bed beside him. Gallant was still grinning from ear to ear, taking in Coraline's perplexed expression. He wasn't sure if it was curiosity or jealousy, but his ego convinced him it was the latter. She noticed he was still looking at his purple-painted fingernails, which made her smack his hand down on the mattress. "Can you pay attention, please?"

"Ow!" Gallant exclaimed, sitting up. "What'd you do that for?"

"I'm trying to have a conversation with you!"

Gallant frowned and realized how tired she looked, how much the meeting seemed to drain her. He wondered why. "It seems to me that you're just interested in my interview with Langdon."

Coraline rolled her eyes. "Can we stop this? Just tell me what M –" She stopped herself, making Gallant raise a brow. "What did Langdon ask you?"

Gallant smirked, playing with his silver hoop earring. "Things."

"What things?" She pressed on and tapped his leg. "C'mon, Gallant. I thought we were friends? Friends help each other in situations like this."

"Your interview is going to be different anyways," he argued, "at least that's what Langdon implied."

Coraline exhaled through her nostrils. With closed eyes, she rubbed at her temples for a moment. "Just ..." She shook her head. "What did he ask you?"

Gallant paused, watching the confusion cross over her face. She was right. Friends do help each other in these situations. But then he was reminded of Langdon, of the way he asked about his anger towards his grandmother. He remembered the way Langdon's brow narrowed when he asked him if he liked leather. Langdon was hot, but survival was hotter. If he kept quiet and fucked Langdon, he would be allowed into the Sanctuary for sure. He'd be able to get the best of both worlds. He couldn't help Coraline. No matter how much he wanted to.

"I ..." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can't tell you."

Coraline's face fell. Wetting her bottom lip, she replied, "What will it take for you to tell me?" She hesitantly patted a hand on his leg again, even though it killed her.

Gallant scrunched up his brow. "Are you offering to give me a blow job or something?"

"No, I'm just saying ..." Her voice trailed off, words escaping her. After a moment, she frowned and pulled her hand away. "Okay, maybe I was. But I just want to know –"

"Listen, Coraline, as much as we are friends, I don't think I should tell you." He said, placing a palm on her arm. "I wouldn't worry about it a lot. Langdon won't allow us to cheat the system. Your interview is going to be different than mine."

She blinked at him, mouth dropping slightly. "I don't understand why you won't tell me anything –"

"Okay, okay, it's because ..." Gallant's lips curled, his eyes filling with lust. Coraline raised a brow at his strange expression. "Langdon and I ... we have a connection."

Coraline tried to suppress the giggle forming in her throat, but it came out as she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. "A connection?" She bit her lip to stop her own laughter. "You think Langdon is attracted to you?"

"You didn't feel the heat in the room, Cora," Gallant continued. "He wanted me. I know it. You're just jealous."

Coraline was sure her brows were so high that they reached her hairline. If only Gallant knew about the connection she had with Michael in high school. "I'm not jealous. I just think that you –"

Gallant shook his head and stood up. "Save it. You just wait until he fucks my brains out. Then, you'll know."

Coraline opened her mouth to reply, but Gallant was already out the door. With a roll of her eyes, she was suddenly reminded of the many times she tried to offer Michael sexual advances for the things he did for her. He always pushed her away. Maybe things were different now. Five years changed a person, and it certainly changed him, just from looks alone. Coraline definitely wasn't the same person, appearance and personality wise.

Maybe he would have sex with Gallant, if that meant Gallant could get into the Sanctuary – whatever that was. Coraline didn't know if that would really happen; Michael had always been able to charm anyone. But this wasn't her jealousy talking. Definitely, not.

With a long sigh, Coraline fell back on the bed. She wasn't jealous. Not one bit.

•••

The perfume of death lingered across every corridor of the Outpost, swimming over the floors of the suites. Coraline thought she was fine, until she fell asleep and the perfume entered her room, tickling her nostrils. She blamed it for the dream she had that night – a dream full of blue eyes and long, blonde ringlets. A dream where large hands gripped her hips, pulling her forward as she rode a man's lap. His touch burned and sizzled her exposed skin. She felt blood coating her entire chest, but she didn't care. It warmed her; it excited her. The stranger's lips roamed every part of her skin, biting and claiming his territory. The perfume made her dreams run wild.

Coraline woke up in a cold sweat. A few candles were still lit and flickering faintly. She swallowed hard and felt the goosebumps on her arms. Coraline shook her head, wiping the sweat on her brow. Even her pajamas were soaked in sweat. She rubbed at her nose, deciding to get up and change. However, she didn't put on a new pair of pajamas. At this late of an hour, she could break dress code – just this once.

She managed to find a pair of mauve dress pants deep within her closet, leaving her to guess that this room might've been meant for a male before she came along. The pants were big and didn't fit, but there was nothing a belt couldn't fix. She buttoned on a purple blouse, as well as a white cardigan, before slipping on a pair of shoes and grabbing a candlestick.

There was no one awake, not even a Grey in sight. Coraline tiptoed down the winding stairs, trying to be as quiet as she could, but it was difficult in her heeled boots. She hugged her sweater close to her body when a breeze ran by her. The perfume wasn't present, allowing her a moment to actually breathe.

She arrived in the kitchen and set down her candle on a cutting board. Maybe a midnight snack would help her, especially if she was now only having one meal a day. That could've been the reason for her foul dream. She was just hungry.

The fridge was kept behind an unlocked door, weirdly enough. It took Coraline a few tries to wiggle the handle, but it eventually released for her. She opened the fridge door, almost blinded from the bright light inside. Feeling her stomach growl, she found stacks upon stacks of those goddamn gelatin cubes. She had to take what she could get.

She took out an uncut tray from the fridge and shut it with her hip. Tearing the invisible wrap from the top, Coraline grabbed a sharp knife and cut a skinny slice off the edge of the gelatin tray. No one would notice if she cut a long, vertical slice. At least, she hoped they wouldn't.

Placing the tray back in the fridge, she began to cut her slice into cubes. Coraline felt like a cat as she slipped multiple pieces into her mouth and licking her fingers. She tilted her head back, hoping this would cure her tainted dreams and stomach pains.

But then she heard a creak in the floorboard.

Coraline finished off the gelatin cube and looked up as the sound reached her ears. She was suddenly gripping the knife tightly. There was another presence in the room. Coraline hoped then that her past crimes prepared her to use a knife. She had never killed anyone with her bare hands, but she was willing to if someone found her eating the stash of food meant for everyone. If she was going to die, it wasn't going to be for something as silly as this.

She spun around quickly, knife pointed out to the perpetrator lingering against the kitchen doorway. When she realized it was Michael, she still kept the knife in place. The perfume of death was everywhere. Coraline wasn't scared of him, even as he stared at her like he wanted to kill her. She doubted he ever could, but maybe that was foolish to assume.

"Coraline Rose Avery," he greeted, sauntering further into the room. Thankfully for Coraline, a kitchen island separated them further.

She felt the electric connection tug her forward. Coraline took one step, the knife shaking in her hand, but stopped herself when she realized what the threads were doing. She swallowed hard, wondering if she should call him Michael or Langdon, or even address him at all. If she was quick enough, she could probably dart past him and run back to her room.

But truthfully, Coraline really didn't want to do that, even if she wouldn't admit it.

"What are you doing up so late?" He asked, nose wrinkling slightly. Was that concern in his tone, or just suspicion?

"I should be the one asking you questions," she whispered. After a moment of hesitation, Coraline dropped the knife to her side and approached the kitchen island. She placed her hands on the dark wood and slid the knife forward. "Why are you here?"

Michael smiled devilishly. "Your curiosity hasn't changed," he replied, stepping forward and feeling his own threads reach for her. He began to round the kitchen island, dragging his fingers across the surface. "I'm here because I am part of the Cooperative. Have I not made that clear yet?"

Coraline's jaw shifted. "Is that your snarky way of telling me that this is all just pure coincidence? What am I supposed to think after I'm chosen as a survivor at the end of the world, and then you just show up out of nowhere?" Bile was rising in her throat, and she tried to desperately push it back down. "The last time I saw you, you tried to kill everyone I went to high school with, including innocent people. Are you trying to haunt me again for leaving you, or are you here for some kind of weird Satanist plan?"

With a smirk, Michael crossed his arms over his chest. Coraline's eyes raked down his outfit. He hadn't changed at all, not even into a pair of sleeping clothes. Her breathing was heavy as she wondered how soft his hair must feel.

She lifted her chin then, narrowing her stare. "How'd you find me?"

"I didn't," he quipped, circling the island once again. "Why can't you just accept the coincidence?"

Coraline's eyes formed into slits as he stood in front of her, looking down with his long lashes. If he took one more step, they would be inches from each other, and she knew their connection would go into a frenzy.

"Because I was your friend at one point, Michael." Her tone was full of toxicity as she spat out his first name. "I learned not to trust pretty words from pretty men so easily."

He did exactly what she hoped he wouldn't: Michael stepped forward again, causing Coraline to press her back against the kitchen island. She gripped the lip of the wood tightly, grinding her teeth together. Her heartbeat quickened as threads tugged at his hand that remained on his side, begging it to touch her. Her legs instinctively squeezed themselves shut. Coraline felt her spine hurt while she continued to push herself away from Michael, but he trapped her in.

"Oh," Michael shook his head, "I think we were a little more than friends, Coraline."

She was stunned for a moment. His tone was different, yet so familiar. In the meeting, he had spoken with authority, dominating the room. But now, it was ... calming, more reserved. He sounded young again, like the sunshine boy she once knew.

He hummed underneath his breath and stood upright. "I believe it's time for your questioning."

Coraline knitted her brow together and hugged her white cardigan closer. "At midnight?"

"Actually, it's one in the morning, but you don't seem to be busy, correct?" He tilted his head to the side, before walking away and tying his hands behind his back. Coraline watched him with confusion. He looked back to her again, gesturing for him to follow her with his hand. "You act as if I'm going to kill you."

"And why shouldn't I think that way?"

Michael smirked further. "Don't worry about the questioning, Coraline," he assured, holding out a hand. "I won't ask you to get blood on your white sweater again."

•••

A/N: I WAS LOSING MY MIND WHILE WRITING THIS CHAPTER??? THE TENSION????????

WHY DID I LAUGH SO HARD AJWJJWNS