Jacob cuts in. “And then we’d have to worry about her taking off on us instead.”
“You can’t really think—”
“Guys!” Zian breaks into the conversation in an urgent tone. “Look at her. I think Dom had better heal hersomehowright now.”
My chin has come to rest against my chest. A weird shudder is running through my body. I’m sinking and drifting away at the same time—and then a hand rests against my sternum just below my face.
The warmth that flows from Dominic’s touch brings me back to earth and my body back into focus. My heart thumps steadily; my breath flows in and out.
There’s a floor beneath me. A wall against my back. I’m still here. I haven’t gone anywhere.
Dominic rasps something to the other guys about getting him “more,” which doesn’t totally make sense to me, but my mind is still too hazy to follow what’s going on. Footsteps stomp one way and another.
A second rush of warmth washes over me, and my vision clears. Yes, I’m sitting on the floor, in the hall under the wavering lights powered by the backup generator. A sour smell laces the air—oh, right, because I puked.
I make a face and manage to push myself upright and away from the puddle in the same motion. Dominic straightens up too, brushing what looks like more dust off his hand against his parka.
He doesn’t meet my gaze. Andreas said hehatesdoing this—hates having to heal me.
I tried. I tried so fucking hard not to need him, but it didn’t work.
Andreas touches my arm tentatively. “Are you doing okay now?”
My face flushes with shame. Iwasdoing just fine until… until I wasn’t.
“Yeah,” I say roughly. “Sorry. It caught up with me too fast. I’m fine.”
My gaze flicks back to Dom. “Thank you.”
He gives a slight nod in acknowledgment. I can’t read his expression to tell whether he’s pissed off or just tired.
Jacob strides past us. “Let’s see what the hell we’ve stumbled on here.”
As the rest of us follow him down the hall, I tuck the no-longer-necessary flashlight into my pocket. “There’s a control room that looks a lot like the one in the facility—both of the facilities I’ve seen.”
Andreas’s mouth is still slanted at a worried angle, but he perks up with curiosity. “Are there stairs going farther down?”
“I haven’t seen any, but I wasn’t specifically looking for them. I wanted to let you all in first.” I kick at the dust on the floor, sending a few fluffy bunnies floating into the air. “I don’t think we have to be on guard for anyone still working here, though.”
Zian snorts. “Not unless they float and are really bad at cleaning.”
We pass the room where I dropped out of the ceiling and continue to where it branches out much like the ventilation system did. Down the passage to the left, we come across several rooms with thick control panels that send a shiver of recognition through me.
They look like the locks we had on our cell doors.
The rooms aren’t locked, though. The doors stand slightly ajar. Peeking into one, I find myself staring at a low table, a plain dresser, and a crib.
Everything’s covered in the same thick layer of dust we’ve encountered in the rest of the underground building. The furniture is as barren as in every other room—nothing hanging on the walls, no trinkets on the desk or dresser, no blanket in the crib.
There are marks of life, though. A shallow dent in a wall as if a toy were flung at it with greater than expected strength. Notches in the finish on the crib’s slats as if the wood was tested with budding teeth… or claws.
I tear my eyes away and move to tug open the dresser drawers. Those are empty too, just a faint plasticky scent drifting up from them.
“They stripped the place down but must have decided it’d be easier just leaving the larger pieces behind,” Jacob says from the doorway. As he takes in the room, his face remains a rigid mask, betraying no emotion.
Six of the locked rooms have the same layout. Exactly six. A queasy sensation unfurls in my gut that I don’t think Dominic could heal.
A couple more doors down, we arrive at an office that’s more compact than the larger meeting-style rooms near the entrance. The furniture is nicer, though: an old oak desk that actually smells like wood rather than plastic or metal, a heavy leather rolling chair, a couple of tall bookcases that match the desk.