Page 37 of Carnival

“Yes,’’ Aria and James respond at the same time.

Aria steps forward, taking my hand in hers. “I told you, didn’t I? I’m having you chipped. It’s happening today.’’

Freya’s behind the two, in her white lab coat and a pair of glasses. She puts on latex gloves and pulls out a syringe. My eyes bulge out at the size of that thing, the needle being thick as hell. No way I’m letting that anywhere near me.

“Get your hands off her,’’ James grumbles, staring at the way Aria’s holding my hand.

“Make me, bitch,’’ she scoffs.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.’’ He takes a menacing step forward, and I groan. This has been happening for the past two weeks, them bickering and arguing at every given opportunity. It’s Aria’s fault, really. She was the one who had him pulled out of prison.

“Enough, both of you,’’ I sigh, and both their attentions snap back to me.

“Look, Rose, you need this, alright? I know the needle looks fucking terrifying, but I’ve done it twice, and it doesn’t really hurt. She won’t push it too deep so it could easily be removed.’’

“Why Freya, though? She’s a chemist, not a doctor.’’

Freya snorts from behind. “I did med school for three years before switching to chemistry. Trust me, I can do much more than just inject a chip into someone’s body. For example, I’m no stranger to removing limbs, which I’ll do to you if you continue to piss me off.’’

“Alright,’’ I raise my hands up in surrender, and Freya finally approaches me. She takes a small cotton swab filled with alcohol and disinfects the small spot on my forearm.

“This will sting a little, but if you scream like a little bitch, I’ll kill you,’’ she threatens, and somehow, I believe her.

She’s very attractive but very scary, too. Especially since she’s wearing an eye patch. I don’t dare ask how long or why she’s wearing one. It’s none of my business, and I highly doubt she’d tell me. More like she’d kill me for asking it.

She brushes her thumb across the spot where she’ll inject the needle, and I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing myself for the impact. Instead, nothing happens. I wait another couple of seconds, but when I don’t feel the needle piercing through my skin, I peel my eyes open.

Freya’s brow is narrowed, head tilted to the side as she again brushes her thumb against the spot. I wince a little. Her eyes flick to mine, and she pushes her thumb into the skin, and I straight up let out a small yelp.

“How long has this spot been sore?”

I shrug. “Since I can remember. It only hurts if someone roughly touches it, though.’’

“Huh,’’ she takes a step back, putting the syringe on a small metal tray, then sits in one of the spinning chairs, grabbing my forearm with both her hands, inspecting the small area.

“What is it?”

“I’m not quite sure,’’ she murmurs, then speaks without looking up from my arm. “Aria, third drawer on the left. There’s a small metal rod; go grab it.’’

Aria nods and wordlessly goes to open the drawer. It takes her less than a minute to return, and Freya finally releases the hold on me. There’s a button on the top of the metal rod, which Freya presses. Then, she runs it along the length of my arm.

Nothing happens until she reaches the spot, and it starts beeping.

“Why am I beeping? I haven’t stolen anything yet.’’

Freya ignores my poor attempt to joke and continues to run the rod along my arm a few more times, just to make sure. Each time, it beeps when it reaches the spot she was supposed to inject with the tracking chip.

“This is a metal detector,’’ she finally looks up at me. “Did you have any severe surgeries in your childhood that might’ve been the reason for the fucking metal in your body?”

I shake my head. “No.’’

“That’s what I thought. There would’ve been a scar. Come here,’’ she stands up, and I’m left more confused than before. Wordlessly, I follow her as she takes me to a smaller room with a hospital bed.

“Lie down,’’ Freya instructs, switching the old gloves for new ones. James follows suit, entering the smaller room and leaning against the wall. I can tell by the look on his face that he’s figured this out, whatever it is, already.

Freya comes to my lying form with a much smaller syringe, then pushes it near the spot she touched previously. I hiss, hating the feeling of needles anywhere near me.

“This is just an anesthetic to numb the area. I’m about to cut your arm open to see what the fuck is inside.’’

“Wait, what? No!”

“Too late, you’re numb already.’’ She flicks the spot, and I can only feel the pressure of her finger, not actual pain. My eyes squeeze shut the moment I see Aria bring her the metal tray with a scalpel, tweezers, and a bunch of things I don’t know the names of.

The sound of metal scraping together fills my ears, but I keep my eyes closed. There’s no way I’m watching someone do a small surgery on me, and the fact that it doesn’t hurt at all is worrying. How strong is the anesthetic she used on me?

“Hand me the basin, Aria,’’ she instructs, and I can only imagine Aria does it without a word, because the next thing I’m feeling is Freya wrapping a bandage all over my forearm.

My eyes open, and I stare at the basin.

“Fucking hell,’’ James pushes off the wall, walking toward the small table where the basin is. He’s staring at it, wide-eyed, as if he’s unable to comprehend it all. My eyes follow his line of vision, and it all becomes fucking clear.

“It wasn’t a drive,’’ I whisper. “It was a chip.’’

“All along, the chip was in you,’’ James concludes, eyes snapping to meet mine. “Fucking hell.’’

“I’m assuming this thing is important,’’ Freya mocks. “I’ll clean it up and have it ready for you to take.’’

I’m still struggling to comprehend what the fuck just happened, slowly sitting up from the bed.

“Where do you think you’re going, missy?” Freya asks, and I immediately lie back down.

“I thought you wouldn’t end up chipping me.’’

“You have another arm, don’t you?”

“Any chance you can numb the area too?”

“Fine,’’ she sighs.

James and I lock eyes as Freya gets to work. It’s as if she and Aria suddenly vanished, and the two of us are left alone. Neither speaks, but no words are needed for this.

The thing Vivian needs is something I have. I don’t have the time to feel stupid for not noticing sooner, because now that the information she’s been looking for is in my hands, it means the game is finally on. A game Vivian will not win.

I’ll be damned if I let the old wench have the data.