Ch. 35
“Was that satisfactory to you? Pushing that leech off until tomorrow,” Wake’s voice is low, controlled, but I can hear the undercurrent of anger in his words.
I turn to face him, and the intensity in his eyes makes my breath catch. “Wake, I had to—”
“You asked me to let him live,” he cuts me off, his voice dangerously calm. “After everything he’s done to you, you still pleaded for his life. Why?”
I struggle to find the words, the room suddenly feeling much smaller with him towering over me. “Because… Because killing him would only make things worse for us. We’re alone out here, and completely at Enigma's mercy. If we start killing people, we're going to wear out or welcome, and that's the last thing we want. You don't understand how dangerous people like this can be!”
Wake’s eyes narrow, and he steps closer, crowding into my space. “No, mate of mine. It is you who underestimates how dangerous I can be,” he says, his voice dropping to a near growl. “I will not be a pawn in this game much longer.”
A spike of fear makes my stomach clench, my mouth going dry as I meet his gaze. There’s a wild, untamed edge to him that I’ve never seen before, and it terrifies me. “Wake, I just need time—”
“Time?” He leans in, his breath warm against my skin. “Remember what I said, mate. You will be leaving with me, one way or another.”
I swallow hard, nodding slightly as I realize just how precarious my situation has become. This is no longer just about surviving on this island. It’s about surviving Wake, and the storm that’s brewing inside him. And I’m not sure how much longer I can keep it at bay.
***
I push open the door to Dr. St. Cloud’s office, trying to shake off the lingering unease from last night. Wake’s anger, his words, still buzz in the back of my mind like a swarm of angry bees. I hated how we left things, but what was I supposed to do? Letting him kill Stan would have been a catastrophe, and yet, I can’t shake the gnawing feeling that in stopping him, I made a colossal mistake.
That feeling slams into me tenfold when I step into Dr. St. Cloud’s office and see Stan slumped in the chair opposite her desk, looking like hell warmed over. My stomach twists as I force myself to meet his bleary gaze.
“I didn’t realize this was an open meeting,” I say stiffly, not bothering to hide the disdain in my voice.
Dr. St. Cloud’s glare is as dry as her tone. “It wasn’t, until I received reports of an altercation last night.” She gestures to the empty seat beside Stan, her eyes hardening. “Sit.”
I stay rooted to the spot, crossing my arms over my chest. “If that’s what you want to talk about, it looks like you’re already on the right track. I don’t see why I need to be here for it.”
Stan flinches, but I know it’s not because of guilt. No, the wince is more likely the aftereffect of whatever ungodly amount of alcohol he downed last night. He’s incapable of shame. It takes a conscience to feel that.
“Phoebe, just take a seat, please,” Dr. St. Cloud says, her voice tinged with exhaustion. I can tell she’s hanging on by a thread, but I don’t care.
“No.” My voice is steady, unwavering. “You knew he was out of control, and you kept him on anyway. I agreed to help you because you told me you’d keep me safe from him, yet here we are.”
Stan massages his temples like a child with a headache, completely missing the gravity of the situation. “You’re being dramatic,” he mutters, his words slurred.
I snap before I even realize what I’m doing. “You don’t get to speak to me,” I hiss, the venom in my voice surprising even me. “It’s him or me, Lily. I’m not putting up with this bullshit anymore.”
The room plunges into a thick, suffocating silence. My heart pounds, my pulse thrumming in my ears, but I refuse to take it back. This is it—the ultimatum. If Dr. St. Cloud doesn’t realize the leverage I hold with Wake, then she’s more of a fool than I thought. The Siren project is nothing without him, and the only reason Wake hasn’t left yet is because of me.
Lily’s resigned sigh pulls me back to the present, and I nearly jump when she leans back in her chair, giving me a long, hard look. Meanwhile, Stan’s slumped posture turns rigid, his back snapping straight as he realizes what’s happening.
“What, you can’t really be considering her pansy-ass little threat? You can’t fire me!” Stan’s voice climbs in pitch, a mix of disbelief and rage painting his face a blotchy red. “I’m the world’s foremost mind on mers. She’s a little shit, throwing a tantrum because she doesn’t know how to play nice with others!”
Lily’s silence seems to frustrate him more, and when she doesn’t immediately respond, he slams his fist on her desk, rattling the few items on it. “You’ve got to be fucking joking, Lily—”
“Enough,” Dr. St. Cloud’s voice slices through the tension like a razor, cold and final. “I am thoroughly unimpressed by your apparent inability to conduct yourself professionally, Dr. Wilcox. Even so, you are invaluable to my mission.”
Stan’s mouth twists into a smug grin that makes my skin crawl. I open my mouth to argue, to point out how utterly insane it is to keep this creep on board, but Lily silences me with a glare sharp enough to cut steel.
“That being said, you’re not fired, Stan. But you can’t be trusted to stay at the facility.” Her words wipe the smirk off his face in an instant.
Stan’s eyes widen, the blood draining from his face as he stammers, “Then what do you expect me to do?”
Lily doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, she presses a button on her keyboard, and the soft sound of a recording fills the room. I freeze as the noise registers—no, not just any noise. A siren’s song, but it’s not Wake’s, and it’s not Marina’s. The melody is different, haunting in a way that’s almost foreign.
I gasp, realization hitting me like a freight train. “There’s a third siren.”
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