Restrain (Siren Book 3) Read Free Page B

failed, even if I chose the other, but if I had it to do over again, I don't know that I'd make the same choice.
    Realistically, if I really wanted to kill myself, I could haul my sorry ass up that steep ladder-stairway hybrid to get into the ballast area. I could throw myself into that tank, and rest with my brother and the woman I wanted to love.
    I don't know how much longer I have before I'm that desperate.
    Footsteps echo at the other end of the room, the others getting back from their day. They were able to remove the blockade and get into another room. I haven't convinced myself to go look, yet, but it must be interesting since they've been going back there for the better part of two days. 
    Allen looks at me. “What? No 'how did it go today?' No 'thank you for your hard work trying to save all of our asses?'” The snappishness is out of character, a reminder of the man he was at first, the man that Milla was afraid of.
    “What's up your ass?”
    “Ten seconds to guess. Take a real good look, Cal .”
    I stare at him. Nothing new to see. Gray hair frizzling free, its haircut long outgrown. Filthy clothes draped limply off him. Even with me eating less, the others have still lost weight, too. He's aged a decade in a matter of weeks, his skin hanging lustrelessly around panda-bags beneath his eyes.
    “Handsome as ever? So what the fuck's your problem?”
    Allen sighs, recognizing that I'm not up for games and aggression. “It's Marquel. He's—He's—” It takes him several tries to get a full sentence out. “He's not coming back. He's gone too.”
    That gets my attention. “ What ? How?”
    “The other room's a dead end, but there was a pipe that we thought might be big enough for us to get through. We were exploring it, and it went quite a ways. Marquel went first, and—” He bites his lip. “It must have connected to a fuel line. I don't know what sparked it, but—”
    I nod, and resume staring at the wall. It was bound to happen sooner or later.
    “It wasn't anything like Alex,” he says, his voice strained. “I thought for sure you'd hear us both yelling. He screamed so long —” He looks at me expectantly. I'm not sure if he's expecting a hand on his shoulder, or for me to punch something, like I did when Milla and George passed. “I thought for sure you'd recognize the smell...”
    That gets a reaction, if an invisible one. My stomach's knotted with pain at the very thought of throwing up from that smell.
    “That's it? You two were friends, right?” Allen's brows knit together.
    “Yeah, we used to be.” I flush, angry that I'm apparently not affected enough for him.
    Maybe he's right. Maybe I should be openly grieving. But I just can't. I don't have any emotion left. We're all dying here anyways. It's not like I'm gonna be any more mourned than Marquel.
    Allen pats my shoulder and retreats, leaving me space.
     
     
     
     

Chapter Four
    Milla
     
    Flames crackling, limbs flailing, clothes burning, so intensely that the pixels where the flames are mostly glow white, and the mic pickup is intermittent. I can almost smell it, acrid and smoky. I can almost feel the heat. Marquel stops, drops, and rolls, but the flames won't go out; there's too many fumes in the air around him, and the floor of that section is coated in oil.
    He yells as the fire spreads, searing his skin. He struggles back into the pipe, but his grip fails as he tries to pull himself up.
    Allen reaches for him, tries to help despite his own risk, but his grip fails and Marquel falls to the floor, getting more oil on his clothes. The flames have seized the opportunity, however, and spread to the lip of the pipe, where Marquel's oily hands grasped. Allen must be thanking fuck he's not wearing long sleeves. At the least, his hand's gotta be singed.
    Marquel looks behind him and realizes the grand finale—the tank in the back that the flames are eating at. If there's even a little crack in it—and why would there be a crack in