He touches my cheek, gentle and soft. “How does it feel?”
“Like I landed on a tree stump with my face.”
“Ouch.” He kisses my temple.
I brush the damp blond hair away from his eyes. “How did you sleep?”
“Fair enough. You?”
I nod and say quietly, “Are you okay? You know, with the whole Chloe thing?”
“No, I’m not really okay with it.” His jaw tics. “It’s a lot to take in.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“With Erwin?” he asks. Neither of us want to get into it with Erwin again, not after last time.
“If we have to. At some point, we’re going to have to go bigger to deal with this. We can’t beat my sister and all her resources with six rouge Fighters, none of whom have much experience.”
A guard—or soldier, they may be the same thing--waits for us at the end of the hall. The others file out of their rooms and I give Davis a smile. He greets me with a warm smile; we’ve become close over the last couple of months. I don’t know his full story but he’s the best soldier I know, after Wyatt. He’s big and burly, sort of like what you’d think a Marine would look like. Rambo or the Hulk, but not green. He has dark hair and watchful eyes, eyes that are currently still watching Paul closely even though he seems normal enough today after his display of heroics last night. Maybe it was just one of those bizarre adrenaline spikes last night.
Maybe pigs can fly, right?
I tug Davis on the sleeve and he slows. I ask the question that’s been building for hours. “So what’s
the deal with that?” I ask gesturing carefully at Paul.
“So you saw that last night.”
“Uh, yeah. He saved my life. I was one second from being Eater dinner, but let’s be clear, the Paul I knew could not do that.”
Davis nods. “Do you think he’s one of them? A Hybrid?”
“God knows what my sister did to him. I know he was pumped up with a half a dozen vaccine combos over the last couple of months. He may be hybrid of a Hybrid for all I know.”
Davis looks thoughtful at that idea. “I’ll keep an eye on him. If he steps out of line, I’ll take him out.”
“You think you can beat him?”
He doesn’t acknowledge that statement. I continue to keep pace with him and he says, “Something else?”
“Where do you think Wyatt went last night? One minute he was there, the next, gone.”
He shakes his head. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
Everyone heads up the stairs. Jude and Parker talk to one another and we follow, passing a blank-faced guard. We’re in the echo-y stairwell when I stop Davis. “Can I ask you something else?”
He pauses, a look of concern on his face. “Sure? What is it?”
“Do you trust him?”
His eyebrows furrow together. “Who?”
“Wyatt.”
I expect him to say yes. To reassure me. But instead, he thinks for a moment before saying, “Wyatt is very good at his job. He’s a stickler about meeting expectations. He always completes the assignment.”
“What’s his assignment?” Other than protecting me.