Twelve

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"Be careful."

L's words ring in my ear as I run forward. Romero is on my right, five-inch blade in one hand. Kimori is to my left, dagger in the other.

"Don't bomb rush him, don't smother him."

Rosemary is up ahead leading the first wave. She knows this place like the back of her hand. She's lived here for years after all. L is with her speaking warnings into our earpieces for what we're about to encounter.

"Don't trigger him."

Von is at the very end with the last wave of people. Protecting the team from the back while tying off loose ends.

We're taking Seven out of here tonight.

It's a storage unit. It's dim and rickety with long damp walkways and too many dark turns. But we're together. Seven is here and with L, Rosemary, and the rest of their wave. When my group catches up we'll lead him out of here and everything will be okay.

My mind is still on Seven when a TL creeps out from the shadows, grabs my wrist. I'm stupid enough to think about Von before I think about defending myself. For a split second, a strike of lightning, the memory of the way Von held my wrist against the cold ground as pleasure rang from my neck to my toes. The chills, the best and worst sex I've ever had. I shoot the guy in the head and his cold grip loosens up.

"Nice save," Kimori beams at me. It's the oddest thing. He doesn't change in battle. He still chimes and cheers at me like a starry pinwheel.

He doesn't become desensitized like me, a completely different person like Seven. He doesn't fall into the pit and let himself get quieter or darker like the other guys.

"Thanks," I tell him and Romero is too out of it to be jealous.

As soon as we got word of Seven, he changed. Ran faster, stood taller. The power of hope was enough to heal all of his injuries, to consume all of our doubts.

Knowing he's alive lit a fire in all of us. A drive to push forward into a nearing end. It placed a finish line on our marathon.

"Second wave, make a left, the area is mostly clear." L voice rings through my headset.

A bullet moves first with Romero closely behind. This is just where the TL's keep their "cargo." A mixture of the human organs they sell and the live humans. All of the TLs don't live here even on a day like this when they probably knew we were coming.

It's too easy.

Up until I see him.

L is disabling security and potential traps. Rosemary is scoping out the area. One of the bullets is holding a bottle of water up to Seven's mouth as he drinks like he hasn't drunk in weeks.

Seven's eyes light up when he sees us. Through tangled inky bangs our eyes meet for the first time in weeks. The chains at his neck and at each of his limbs keep him from moving but so do his shaky limbs. Yet he smiles.

"Hey," he says like this is the most casual situation.

Romero runs forward and I fall to my knees in relief.

•••

Seven has bruises everywhere.

A haze of red on his neck, ankles, and wrists where the chains used to be. On his entire back yellowing blues bleed together like an oil painting as his skin sits above the water.

The bathroom is steamy and the water is hot as Seven leans forward, hugs his knees before laying his head on them. Von's tattooed legs are around him and under the thick bubbles.

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