Patient B-2

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Idalia

 Jessie.

 I had assumed he would be dead by now, but I never expected such a gruesome display.

 This is a warning— the final one.

 We can't hide any longer. We must come out now, or they'll force us out.

 As the urge to flee grips me, every fiber of my being screams to run, to abandon the others and save myself. It's what I've always done— putting myself first, heedless of the consequences. I've lived my entire life selfishly, indifferent to who I hurt in pursuit of my desires. There was no line I wouldn't cross to achieve my goals. But, now, looking at Jessie's decapitated head, I'm beginning to believe what everyone else thinks— I'm not a good person.

 And what's the point of surviving if it means I'm left despising the person I've become? If I lose my sense of self-respect and moral integrity along the way, is it really worth it?

 I never cared much for Jessie, but he wasn't a bad man. I've encountered plenty of truly bad individuals in my lifetime, and he didn't fit that description. Yet, he's dead because of me. The weight of that realization tightens my chest in a way that's both unfamiliar and, increasingly, all too familiar.

 "Who...?" Wrath's voice trails off, a hint of uncertainty lacing his words.

 I drop the poor man's head, wincing as it lands with a soft thud. Despite the lack of decay and the complete drying of the blood around the cut, the smell that wafts through the room is undeniably awful. "Jessie... my inside man," I reply softly, my words heavy with regret.

 The gears in my head turn, struggling to find a way out of this dire situation. If we were to part ways now, there's a chance I could escape unscathed. My body tenses as I push my brain to devise a plan. Yet, despite the overwhelming urge to abandon everyone and save myself, I find myself unable to act on it. No matter how loudly I scream inside, the bonds that tie me to the group hold firm, preventing me from leaving them behind.

 Taking a step back, I dart across the room, avoiding the window, and grab a pen and paper. Scribbling down the address to my shared apartment, I begin to speak. "Again, I'm not sure if WWA is aware of this place, but it's where I keep every single piece of information I've gathered over the centuries— their relocating patterns, names of doctors, and so on," I explain, handing them the paper. "I wish I could say it'll be helpful, but I doubt it. Nevertheless, it's better than nothing. It'll give you a better understanding of how they move and operate. I can't say whether staying at that apartment is a good idea because, honestly, I'd leave New York and wait at least a decade for things to calm down. But I understand you're not like me. Do what you wish, but take my findings with you. I—"

 "Why are you speaking as if you're not coming with us?" Cierien interrupts, his eyes wide, fingers tightly gripping the address.

 "Because I'm not," I admit with a sad smile. "Someone has to distract them out front— lead at least a couple of them away. Do you seriously think you're getting out of this otherwise?"

 "Let me guess," Wrath starts, "you want one of us to be the distraction."

 My jaw clenches, teeth threatening to break under the pressure. "No. You clearly have selective hearing," I bite back. "I'll lead them away and take out as many as I can. I'm giving you all a chance. Now, this is where you both say Thank you, Idalia."

 "You're lying. You're going to throw us to the wolves as soon as we step out that door," Wrath retorts, his tone filled with skepticism, unwilling to believe that I could act selflessly even for a moment.

 I don't even blame him.

 My shoulders deflate, and a heavy sigh escapes my lips. "I've spent centuries searching for my brother, and have come up with nothing," I say, defeated. "All I ask is that you don't stop until you have both Avalyn and my brother, okay?"