Twenty-Two

Iris woke up in a hospital bed in The Fortress. “Arlo?” she whispered softly, her eyes barely cracking open. She glanced down at her body to find her injuries mostly healed, leaving behind thin strips of raised, pink skin.

Beside her stood the W.H.O. physician, Dr. Lang. He had a warm smile on his face as he checked the fluid bag connected to Iris’s IV.

“Feeling like yourself yet?” he asked from beside her bed.

She grabbed her head. “Yeah. I think so.” Her eyes frantically darted back and forth, glancing at the white walls surrounding her. The air was dry and cold and the room smelled like Band-Aids, rubbing alcohol, and latex gloves.

“You sustained some pretty serious injuries there,” Dr. Lang said. “You’re lucky your friend got you back when he did.”

Friend.

The last thing Iris remembered was blacking out in Arlo’s arms.

“Where is he?” Iris asked Dr. Lang with a wide gaze.

“I’m not sure,” he quickly replied. “And your brother said you could sit out the Marmont protection detail if you need to.”

Crap.

The last thing Iris needed was to miss the protection detail. She didn’t want to look incompetent. She reached into her pocket, grabbed her phone, and saw a text waiting.

Iris. Hey. I wanted you to know that I left with one of The Armadas. I’m going to find Belinda. What the Nomad said freaked me out and I think I can get some more information out of her. Please don’t be mad. I promise I’ll be safe. Get some rest and feel better soon. I would pretty much die if something happened to you. Arlo :)

Her heart fluttered as she read the text over and over just to make certain she didn’t miss anything. She opened the Hunter tracker app on her phone and pinpointed The Armada near Griffith Park.

“I’m going to check on another patient,” Dr. Lang explained with a soothing tone. “You stay put and rest, all right?” He patted her on the shoulder.

Iris nodded. The second he left the room she hopped out of bed, stiff from her wounds. Sure, she needed time to heal and should probably be in bed for the rest of the evening, but Iris didn’t care. She was going to find Arlo, and no injury could get in her way.

Belinda, here I freaking come.

Iris was like a cat on the prowl. She tiptoed through the underground W.H.O facility, ducking behind chairs, jumping between halls, and hiding in the smallest of corners. Right now, she made James Bond look like a freaking joke.

She was high on adrenaline when she finally made it out the front door undetected, and sighed, taking in the moist evening air. It was full of smog but still felt refreshing after being cooped up in the hospital.

Now, she just needed a vehicle.

Iris searched the garage and discovered all The Armadas were being used for the night. Great. And the dirt bikes? Completely destroyed, thanks to Knox and Dex. Iris needed to be creative.

Still on foot, she ran out to the gates, frantically searching for options. She saw a motorcycle parked a few houses down. That could work, she thought. Not that Iris wanted to steal a motorcycle, but she was stuck between a rock and a hard place and she needed to get to Griffith as fast as she could. Calling a cab would have taken too long.

She started toward the motorcycle when she saw a boy getting into a small beige BMW across the street. He looked like he was in high school. Average size, average build, a young face trapped in a changing body.

Perfect.

“Hey!” Iris shouted, waving her hands. The boy didn’t hear her and hopped into the driver’s seat, thrusting the keys into the ignition. The engine revved and Iris ran as fast as she could toward the boy’s car.

She threw open the door and jumped into the backseat, pulling her gold knife from her side and holding it to the boy’s neck. It wasn’t one of her shining moments.

“Drive!” she ordered. Her palms started to sweat.

The boy gasped and seemed to stop breathing for a moment. Iris felt horrible but she didn’t intend to hurt him. She just needed a ride.

“What are you doing?” he shouted, holding up his hands. His voice sounded panicked. “I don’t have any money, I swear.”

“I don’t want your money, I just want you to take me to Griffith Park,” Iris explained. The car was surprisingly clean, except for the empty In-N-Out Burger soda cup.

“Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me,” the boy begged with pleading eyes.

“I’m not going to kill you, all right?” she spat. “Just … drive!”

Iris knew this was completely reckless, but she wasn’t in the frame of mind to worry about the consequences. Plus, it wasn’t like the boy would remember this once she was done with him anyway. So no harm, no foul.

The boy put the car in drive and skidded down the street. “This isn’t like some weird day-after-Halloween prank, right?” he asked. His body was stiff.

“Nope,” Iris shot back. “Just a good ole fashion carjacking,” she said with sarcasm.

“Wow,” he mumbled. “Awesome.”

She blinked with surprise. “You think the fact that I’m holding a knife to your throat is awesome?”

“Kinda, yeah,” he admitted with no shame. “Plus, you’re hot.” His face turned red. “And, girls at my school never talk to me.”

Iris’s eyes saddened and the guilt set in.

“Why don’t they talk to you?” she asked with curiosity. The boy seemed nice enough. Iris had never hijacked a car before, but she didn’t imagine the driver would be this friendly.

“I don’t know,” the boy finally answered. “Maybe ’cause I’m not on the freaking football team. And all these jock assholes make fun of me every day.” He sighed. “Sometimes I just wish they would stop.”

Iris lowered her knife and put it back in her pocket as a large pit swallowed up her stomach.

“Don’t worry. I’ll still take you to Griffith Park,” the boy said. “Tonight’s the fall dance at my school and I don’t have a date so I was just planning on driving around to … nowhere. I really have nothing better to do.”

Iris let out a long breath. She knew nothing about this boy except from what she gathered from staring at the back of his ash-brown hair. But it wasn’t easy trying to fit in.

She suddenly perked up. “You can just park right here,” Iris said as she pointed. They were about a block away from Griffith Park.

Iris leaped out of the backseat and motioned for the boy to roll down the window.

“Hey, why do you have sunglasses on?” he asked. “It’s pretty dark out.”

“You’ll see,” she said, beaming. The boy had a sweet face. “What’s your name?”

“Martin.”

“Okay, Martin.” Iris clicked the sides of her aviators. “Give me your phone.”

Martin’s eyes glazed over and he immediately followed her orders. Iris grabbed his phone and leaned in next to Martin’s face. She kissed him on the cheek and snapped a photo. She checked the picture to make sure her hair hid her face before handing the phone back to Martin.

“Now, here’s what you’re going to do: you’re going to go to that freaking dance and tell them you were late because you were hooking up with a hot girl from another school and then, show them the picture. The girls will look at you differently. Trust me. And if those jerk guys try to pick on you, you tell them to go to hell,” Iris said, gritting her teeth. “And if they try to hit you, you go straight for their balls, and don’t you dare be gentle.” She pointed her finger. “Understood?”

Martin nodded his head.

“All right.” She took a step back. “Now go.”

Martin hit the gas and slowly drove away. Iris grinned before taking a deep breath. Time to find Arlo.