The Six: Genesis | A Reverse Harem Novel

Twenty-Two

Zhyv's mouth is moving, but I can't hear her over the swelling alarms in my mind.

It's heavy, round, and all-encompassing. I barely breathe, studying my trembling hands and the red matter spread across them. Blood.

Chris' blood.

I'm too slow to catch him before he drops like a lead. A heavy thud echoes through the chamber, and I'm scrambling across him to stop the bleeding and see if he's still alive. His heartbeat, a jagged, wretched thing, thrums in my eardrums. It's the only thing I want to hear—the only thing keeping me going.

"Blue," Zhyv's muffled voice barely makes contact, and I can't afford to look at her. He needs me. If I don't help, he'll die. "Let us help. Stop! Stop!"

Sobbing, I grasp a shaky breath and lift my eyes to hers. She's partially leaning over me, her hands holding mine captive as Vergil lends his help. I have doctorate degrees, but he's a medical doctor—a surgeon—and he'll know far more about saving Chris than I will.

"Zhyv," I sputter, "his spine..."

"I know, Blue. Let Vergil do what he does best."

Calm and collected, Vergil is best observed under pressure. His platinum blond hair is slicked back away from his face, exposing angular cheekbones, deep set sapphire eyes and a square jaw. Silently, he leans over Gatlin, his eyes analyzing the damage. Gently, he probes along the massive tear in his back, but he's seeing exactly what I have—his spine is severed.

"Can you move your legs, Gatlin?" He asks, accent threading through every word. I've never been able to pinpoint it and neither he nor Zhyv are forthcoming about their origins.

Chris' unsteady eyes meet his, and roll backward.

No.

No!

He can't.

"Save him, please."

Vergil looks up at me but doesn't respond. Instead, he turns his gaze to Zhyv as a grim look takes over his features. "We can't heal him unless you want this entire place to come down on our heads."

"W-what?" I whimper, hands clinging to Gatlin's blood-soaked arm. My systems zero in on his failing vitals, counting his heartbeats, measuring the shallowness of his breaths and estimating his internal bleeding. "Y-you can't do anything?"

"Vergil..." Zhyv stresses his name with a low grunt. "We need to do something."

His eyes flash gold and back to blue as his twin's annoyed yell catches my attention. Don and Charlie are fighting it, working in tandem. The machine's strikes are fast, tailored for combat and slice through the air with deadly accuracy.

Charlie dances in and out of range, switching from a machete to his rifle. The shots hit their mark, but the machine engulfs them with metal molten metal and repairs itself. Don, the same hulking frame and form as his brother, hits the machine with punches so hard they make my teeth rattle when they land.

I can't think.

I can't focus.

Chris' breaths are so shallow they barely make his chest expand. Blood is everywhere, seeping into my clothes and theirs, bathing us in a delirious haunted shade of halloween red. We have to save him, but if we don't stop this machine, Charlie and I will surely die.

Zhyv and her twins are indestructible and their powers are obviously the only reason we're still afloat. If they left, this entire cavern would come down over our heads in a fiery of hell and torment. With my augments, I'd most likely surface, but I'd lose Gatlin and Charlie.