I’d spent so much of my life putting up barriers to avoid getting hurt. I’d turned my back on Karen when she tried to help, and lashed out when she acted protective toward me. As much as it pained me, I saw that now. Will’s phone started vibrating in his hand and I wiped my face as he answered.
“We’re on our way.” He glanced up at me as he hung up the phone. “You know where the entrance to the B-Wing is?”
“That’s where she is?” My chest tightened.
“Apparently.” Will and I started walking. I picked up my pace and he followed. “What’s in the B-Wing?”
“Trouble.”
It was the only word I could use to properly describe it. Of course, to the staff and doctors, the B-Wing probably meant opportunities for new discoveries, but for those on the receiving end of the treatments, it meant endless days that looped together and confusion. I thought about the day I was picked up by the cops, the day this all started, and came to the same conclusion I did that evening. I must have been in the B-Wing. Before the initiation with The Swords, I’d never done drugs willingly, but the only time I’d ever felt close to that euphoria followed by a murky aftermath was when I’d been in the B-Wing. As we approached the side door of the building, I took a deep breath and shook my nerves away. The door opened before us and Adam appeared, wearing his slacks, dress shirt, and tie. He looked like he belonged here. Not the way I did, inside one of those rooms being watched and studied twenty-four hours a day. He belonged like he could one day be running the place that housed people like me. I tried and failed not to picture it—us on either side of the glass.
“Hey.” Adam took my hand suddenly, and the picture dissipated. I glanced up at him. “You sure you want to do this?”
“I need answers.” I took a deep breath. “I’m nervous.”
“Hey, we’re here.” Will placed a hand on my arm briefly.
“The cameras are covered,” Adam said, looking at Will.
“How’d you manage that?”
“I called Nolan. He brought Marcus.”
“Who’s Marcus?” I asked.
“An Eight.” Will looked at me and back at Adam. “They know about this?”
“I wasn’t not going to tell my brother.”
“And of course he had to tell Marcus.” Will shook his head. “We haven’t even told The Swords about this, Adam. If they find out—”
“They can’t find out.” Adam let go of my hand. “We don’t even know what we’re dealing with here. Once we do, we’ll let some of the others in, if we can.”
“What do you mean if we can?” I frowned at Adam. “I thought The Swords were a family.”
“All families have secrets.”
“This one isn’t supposed to,” Will said.
“Yet it does. You know that better than anyone. Look at all of the crap we found yesterday. You think everyone knows about that?”
“Probably not.” Will scowled. “Definitely not the black members. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have joined.”
“Times have changed,” Adam said, his voice hopeful.
“Not enough,” I said so that Will wouldn’t have to.
“I know, and I hate that.” Adam’s expression softened as he brought his hand back to mine. “But if we want things to change, we need to do it together and that means getting to the bottom of this.”
The three of us started walking up the stairs toward the fifth floor. By the fourth, my thighs were feeling the burn. Adam and Will were walking ahead of me as if they were in a race to the top floor. I held on to the rail between floors four and five and paused to take a breather. They walked back down to me.
“You okay?”
“Fine. Just out of shape, obviously,” I huffed, looking up at them. “What the hell do you two do? Run marathons for fun?”
“Actually, we do.” Will chuckled. “Maybe you should train with us.”
“Maybe you should fuck off.” I put both hands on the rail, still breathing heavily. “Okay, let’s go.”
“We’re almost there,” Adam said, grabbing my arm when I reached him on the landing between the stairs.
“We don’t have walkie-talkies or something to make sure the cameras are turned off for sure?” I asked when we reached the door.
“No, we have cell phones.” Adam took his out and pressed Marcus’ name on his phone. “We’re on five. Are we good? Okay.” He hung up and put the phone away. “The nurses are on the third floor, which means we have exactly fifteen minutes before one of them comes back up to do her rounds. We stick together, you got it?”
I gave a nod. Will gave a nod. Adam opened the door and we followed him down the hall.
“Damn, this is fancy.” Will looked on either side of us.
We were surrounded by windows. The entire building was built like that, with Plexiglas instead of concrete. Debbie said it was built that way so it wouldn’t feel like a prison. The glass was supposed to make the patients feel calm and not trapped. It always had the opposite effect on me. I couldn’t even count the number of times I envisioned myself barreling through it and falling to my death, but that was then. I hadn’t been to the B-Wing in years and was seeing it in a different light now. Instead of drinking the Kool-Aid and accepting everything they told me, I was questioning it. The way I’d once questioned Karen. I’d spent so much of my life being angry at her and using her as a scapegoat for my flaws that I rarely ever paid attention when she bad-mouthed the Maslows. Back then, it felt like jealousy. Now it felt like . . . truth. Adam stopped walking suddenly and knocked on the door beside us, taking my hand in his when he dropped it from the door.
“Can she just open the door?” Will whispered. “Why wouldn’t she just leave?”
“The only reason we’re walking freely right now is because Marcus handled the cameras and alarms. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have been able to open the door to this floor,” Adam whispered back.
“Her door won’t open,” I said. “Not without us unlocking it.”
“What?” Adam frowned. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” I took the badge he had clipped on the pocket of his dress shirt.
“Wait.” He reached out for my hand just before I slid it. “They’ll have it on record that I was the one who opened the door.”
“Fuck.” That was Will. “Why didn’t you think of this before?”
Adam shook his head, looking annoyed at himself, and took out his phone. “Hey. Can you open the door for me from there? What do you mean he’s on his way over?” He hung up the phone and slid it in his pocket as he looked over at us. “He says Nolan is on his way with the key.”
Not even four seconds later, we heard footsteps coming from the direction of the elevator. The three of us froze. A carbon copy of Adam walked toward us, wearing the same pants, dress shirt, and tie. I did a double take. Nolan kept his hair long, but he had it tied up today, so from the front he looked identical to the man standing beside me. He walked up to us, card in hand, and slid it into the reader. The door clicked.