Page 3

Ever

S kull pounding and fighting a wave of nausea, I gingerly peel my eyelids open while contemplating smothering myself with a pillow to escape the pain.

A few blinks in the unfamiliar room and anxiety takes over as the predominant shitty feeling.

I push myself upright with a groan, trying to remember where the fuck I am and what happened last night.

“Thank the Fates, I was starting to worry they overdosed you and you weren’t going to wake up.” Bellamy exhales in relief as he comes to sit on the edge of the bed and tenderly pushes my sweaty hair from my face. “Much longer, I was going to call for the healer.”

My body moves before my memories catch up to loop me in, but trusting my gut has kept me alive thus far. So I assume there’s a damn good reason why I punch Bellamy in the throat without thinking.

As he doubles over coughing, trying to catch his breath, I clamber out of bed, flickers of memory trickling through the throbbing in my skull.

Once the floodgates break, everything comes back to me in a rush.

Him asking to speak to me alone, then dragging me into a van, my hands ziptied.

His face melting. Seeing the real Bellamy bound and gagged in the back with me.

Hand wrapped around the doorknob, freedom is torn from my grasp as the imposter catches me in a bear hug from behind, rasping, “Shit, Ever, it’s me! Bell.”

Yeah, like I’m really gonna fall for the same trick twice.

Slamming my head back into his nose, he curses and loosens his grip enough that I can jerk free, yanking the door open and sprinting down the tunnel-like hallway.

Most of the ground and walls are made of worn, dark stone, but there’s an eerie purple glow slashing through it all like lightning behind jagged glass, illuminating the path.

While the light in the walls comes from thin, spider-like veins, the one in the center of the floor is so thick, it looks like ice frozen over an ethereal river.

Praying I’m not about to take a plunge into Hades’ river of souls, I sprint down the tunnel, relieved when it holds my weight.

About every dozen feet or so is an identical closed door of dark wood and black iron, but I don’t even make it past the second before I’m tackled from behind, fake Bellamy rolling mid-air to take the brunt of the impact as we crash onto the floor.

“Fuck, babe, you can’t run off alone down here; there are more things hiding in these ruins than mimics. Just let me explain,” he begs as another figure rounds the bend and comes to a halt as soon as he sees us.

Eyebrows jumping to his hairline, the man pauses for a weighted moment before grimacing. “Yeah, this one’s probably my fault. Sorry, Boss.”

I growl in frustration, rolling and tucking my legs up to my chest before they can be pinned, preparing to shove my attacker off of me.

“Shh, beautiful, it’s me,” he pleads.

“Don’t,” I snap. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, but I’m not playing this game. Back. Off. ”

He winces, but my attention is pulled to the other stranger as he clears his throat and half-heartedly raises a hand.

“Pretty sure you’re attacking the wrong guy.

” With horrified fascination, I watch upside down as his short brown hair fades to white and grows, crimson eyes morphing to grey as his features twist into Bellamy’s until he’s a mirror copy.

And if I watched him transform, that would mean that…

“Shit,” I breathe, head aching and muscles screaming, but finally catching on. Turning back to the man that tackled me, one eye already starting to blacken and nose gushing blood down his face, I feel like a real asshole.

Secretly pretty proud of myself for being able to do that much damage, though.

Hesitantly, I whisper, “Bell?”

The harsh steel grey of his eyes softens. “Yeah, baby. It’s me.”

Before it can completely flicker out, my rage reignites. If this really is my Bellamy, he sure isn’t looking all that pissed off at the sight of the guy that kidnapped us.

“What the hell is going on here?”

He flinches, climbing to his feet and lifting me to mine before I can protest. Grabbing my hand, he tugs me back towards the room I just bolted from. “Not out here where our nosey-ass neighbors can eavesdrop,” he murmurs.

Muscles taut, I begrudgingly follow him, shooting frequent glances behind me to where fake Bellamy is watching with his head cocked. Before his face can melt off and scar me for life a second time, Bell shuts the door, leaving the two of us alone in an underground… apartment?

Running a shaky hand through his messy hair, Bell gives me an apologetic grimace and says, “We’re in the mimic compound.

My team freaked out when I disappeared and made the mistake of texting them that day in the computer store when Ledger stepped in to protect us.

Even though I told them it was a false alarm, they tracked my phone and decided to ‘rescue’ us both.

We’re safe; nobody would dream of hurting you here.

All of the residents that aren’t mimics devote their lives to protecting our kind and this place.

They just… don’t always go about it in the best way if left unsupervised. ”

Taking in our surroundings, my confusion only grows. “So they kidnapped us… just to lock us in an apartment?”

I guess it’s not the worst case scenario, all things considered. Nobody is trying to use us for a power boost, sell us, or breed us. We’re not in chains, cages, and being raped or beaten.

Gotta find those silver linings where you can when you’re on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“It’s a,” a blush stains Bell’s cheeks as he glances away. “A family suite. Apparently, they took the liberty of moving my stuff out of the bunks while we were unconscious.”

Well that’s… uncomfortable. It’s like they’re treating us like a pair of dolls and forcing us to play house for their amusement.

“So how do we get out of here?”

Fuck, the guys have to be losing their shit right about now.

Bell exhales wearily. “I’m working on it, don’t worry. You only need to focus on feeling better.”

Seeing as he’s the one with a black eye, I’m obviously throwing that suggestion into the fire where it belongs. “These people are your family, right? Just let them know you’re okay and are leaving of your own free will.”

Bell moves to the small kitchen area and wets a rag, cleaning the blood off his face. “It’s not that simple.”

I narrow my eyes, piecing the few snippets of information I have together.

He says they won’t hurt us, yet they won’t let us leave.

That they’ve devoted their lives to protecting mimics, but don’t always go about it in the best way.

“Is this one of those ‘it’s for your own good,’ situations where the people protecting this place decide they know what’s best and are actually our keepers? ”

“No, of course not.” Setting the bloody rag aside, he leans against the stone counter, studying my face.

“A decent chunk of these people have never accessed the internet and have spent their entire lives in the compound. Others came here when they were young and never left, along with some teenage and adult mimics we’ve rescued that came here in really bad shape.

But while most of the community is sheltered, they’re not ignorant, especially because we bring in new blood from all over the country.

Everyone knows damn well the dangers out there and concentrate their efforts on making our little corner of the world better than the shitshow hellscape outside of these tunnels.

None of us have wanted to leave the compound before, so this is actually a first.”

Again, not seeing the problem.

I frown. “You run the retrieval team, though, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t leave the compound to do it. At least, not until you. And everyone that does supply runs or retrieval missions always comes back home.”

Groaning in annoyance, I scrub my hands over my face and lean against the counter beside him. I take the stone cup Bellamy passes me and drink my fill. The faster I can flush the residual drugs from my system, the better.

“I’m going to need you to spell this out for me, because clearly, I’m missing something obvious here. If nobody is going to stop us, why can’t we call the guys to come pick us up? Because if they find us before they realize it was your family that snatched us off the street, it’ll be a bloodbath.”

“Sure, go right ahead.” Bellamy pulls a new, in package burner phone out of a drawer and offers it to me with a pointed look. “Mine broke during the struggle, and I don’t have any of their numbers memorized. Do you?”

I open my mouth to answer before immediately snapping it shut. Honestly… thanks to cell phones, I haven’t had to memorize any phone numbers since I was a kid.

Shit.

“We could Google the number for Ledger’s bookstore in Mercy Ri…” I trail off, remembering how the city wouldn’t even show up on GPS and I had to use a paper map to get there. “Okay, scratch that. Does Myles have a gamer handle?”

Bell shrugs and sets the phone on the counter to taunt us.

Fuck.

While he caresses my cheek, I lean into Bellamy’s palm with a heavy sigh.

My brain hurts, I feel like shit, and honestly, I could probably sleep another six hours.

But the guys have to be losing their minds not knowing what happened to us, and I’ve already been unconscious for gods only know how long.

“If we can’t call them, we better start walking. Think your family will give us some supplies for the road?”

His thumb tenderly strokes against my cheek, and my eyelids flutter closed. “It's a brutal journey from here to Mercy ridge, and too dangerous for the two of us to rush into without careful planning.”

“You literally just made that trip alone a few weeks ago,” I argue, and he tugs me into his chest, resting his cheek on top of my head.