I must be missing critical pieces of this puzzle because Adam, McKay, Indie, and Nathan all take his gun threat very, very seriously.
“What?” Wendy says again, the tone of her voice slightly higher this time. Like she’s getting ready to be agitated. “What is he talking about, Nick? How could he know about the cure? Did you tell him? How could you tell him that?”
I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing.
But it’s not like I need to. Donovan is still talking. “He didn’t tell me. He told Merc over there.” Donovan nods his chin to Merc. “They talked all about you and your cure, little Wendy.” He kinda jerks his head to the fireplace behind him. “I heard it all, Nick. Everything you told Merc up in your room last night floated right down that chimney. I’m sorry, Wendy. I don’t have your cure. But Nick does. He’s had it for years.”
Fuck.
I shake my head at Wendy. Point my finger at her. “Don’t turn on me now, Mrs. Tate. He’s part of the plan, remember?”
“Oh, come on now,” Donovan says. “Enough with the lies. Nick is your cure, Wendy. He’s had your cure the whole time. Tell her, Nick.”
Wendy angles her body in my direction and I open my mouth to deny this bullshit, but Donovan cuts me off.
“Wait,” he says. “Drink first.”
“We’re not drinking—” But that’s as far as Adam gets. Because Donovan fires the gun. A bullet hits the ceiling above Maggie’s head and chunks of plaster fall down, showering her in a mist of white powder.
“What the fuck are you doing!” Indie is screaming.
But Donovan screams louder. “Drink!”
“It’s Carter,” Doc says. “That’s got to be Carter!”
This makes Donovan laugh. “There is no Carter inside me, Doc. Sorry to disappoint.” He side-eyes Indie when he says this. “There has never been a Carter inside me. It was just sick, old me. Now.” Donovan points his gun at the nurses. “Please pass the drinks around. Everybody gets one.”
The nurses don’t need to be told twice. They move on command, each of them picking up a tray and loading it up with the tiny plastic cups filled with Lectra.
But Indie, it seems, isn’t in the mood to be compliant. “Why are you lying to me?” She’s screaming it. “This is not you. I know you—”
“You don’t know shit.” Donovan growls these words at her, cutting her off, the malice in his voice taking her by surprise. Then it’s like he catches himself. He takes a moment as the nurses bustle through the room. One of them stops in front of Wendy and me. But I’m watching this interaction between Indie and Donovan.
They were in on this.
But not.
That’s what I see.
Indie and Donovan had some kind of understanding, maybe. Some plan. And now, thinking back on that trip to the house last night—why? Why did she need to go to that house?
They separated us.
Wendy went with Indie, Nathan stayed with me.
They’re both in on it.
At least, they were in on it.
Seems like Donovan is just as rogue as Indie when it comes to reliability.
Donovan, calmer now, says, “Just do as you’re told, Indie. Be a good girl and drink. It’s all gonna even out in the wash. Trust me.”
Indie’s not in the mood. She lunges for him and I wince, waiting for him to gun her down.
But he doesn’t.
Indie doesn’t get more than a foot, anyway. Nathan St. James has her by the arms. In fact, he has pinned them behind her back.
I look over at Adam thinking… isn’t this interesting?
But Adam’s too busy watching Indie. Probably coming to the same conclusion I am.
She’s in on it.
And Donovan just cut her out.
And Nathan is in on it too. Because he was prepared to stop Indie when she attacked.
So maybe he’s still in.
“I’m not drinking this!” Maggie is complaining on the other side of the room. Sasha has bent down and is holding the little cup of blue liquid out for her to take. “No! No, no, no!” Maggie is screaming so loud, I’d definitely classify it as a shriek.
I want to scream back at her. Yell at her to shut up.
“Maggie.” Adam beats me to it. But he’s not yelling. He’s calm, arms crossed over his chest, a look on his face that says, I will find you, Donovan. I will hunt you and find you. And when I do, you will die slow. “Drink it.”
“But Adam—”
“What if,” Sasha says, and everyone directs their attention to her, “what if I take her out?”
“No!” Maggie squeals again.
“Hush,” Sasha says, putting a finger to her lips. Then she looks over at Donovan, pleading look in her eyes. “I’ll tie her up. Put her in her room. Then take the drink. You can watch me—”
“No.” And Donovan waves a hand in the air, dismissing that idea. “Everyone drinks. And once that’s done, then you can take her out of here. I underestimated her the first time.” His fingertips reach around to the back of his head, feeling for the scar. “I won’t make that mistake again.”