The Six: Genesis | A Reverse Harem Novel

Seventy-Seven

Cold.

Sterile.

Lonely.

The first three words I'd utilize to describe the bunker I occupy. Very little light slants through the dirtied skylights as water churns above me. It lays across the thick glass, sloshing and roiling as the tide pushes and pulls.

I sit beneath one of the eight windows spread over the main living area, wishing I were in the sky. Instead, I sit on the ground, barely functioning. There's an ache in my bones and it twists deeper the longer I sit and reflect on my choices.

Yet, I can't change them. I don't want to change them.

Zhyv's parting words sit with me, too. They turn the heaviness in my heart inside out, robbing me of breath. She asked if I knew who the threat was... if I understood Charlie may not be the monster I know he is.

She hadn't seen what I had seen. I'd watched him for the last few weeks dig downward, forcibly keeping away a vital piece of information from me intentionally, and then disappeared into the night. How did he think I'd respond when I awoke to find him gone?

Did he think I would take him back with a smile on my face and forget all that's happened? Did he think our love—my love—would outweigh the bad? Surely not. Surely he didn't think I'd let this go so easily?

It doesn't matter. It can't. Mentally, I gather my emotions together, one by one, and shove them into a box.

Compartmentalization is my only choice.

If I don't get a handle on my feelings, all of this will be for nothing. With Chris and Michael on my trail along with Ryker, plus Bane, it'll be difficult to remain out of the limelight. The only bright spot of this entire thing is the man I met last night.

Hopefully, I'll see him again. Tonight.

I shelve the thoughts threatening to return to him and stand from my position on the cushy black leather sectional. The supple material cocooned me while I considered Zhyv's words. Her wisdom—optimism—would have to wait for another day.

Across from me, a television sat on the wall above a gas fireplace. Flames licked inside, rising higher as the temperature dropped. The tide was coming in.

In a matter of minutes, the sunlight twinkling through my skylights would gradually fade and the protective steel doors would shift downward, blocking prying eyes. There weren't many who could brave these waters and survive, but I wasn't taking any chances. Some of the worst organisms I'd designed could make the trip and if Bane was telling the truth, and his father had repurposed my machines, what was stopping him from sending a legion of them after me?

To my right are two sets of bulkhead doors made from diamond glass. They're tough and can stand up to the elements, allowing a clear look outside. As I enter the outside set, the room allows in a wave of water. Until it can decompress and drain the water back to the greedy sea, I'm suspended between safety and exposure.

At entry, water soaked me to the bone.

I stumbled past the living room and open white marble kitchen, down the main hallway, and hooked a left at the end. There, a single door rests. My bedroom hadn't changed a bit.

Thick black rugs are thrown across black heated floors with a massive platform bed on the far wall. To the right are two doors—his and hers closets—and on the left is a door leading to the palatial bathroom. I spent an hour in the shower, but I'm still cold.

I take the same route, heading through the kitchen to the hallway, but stop at the second down on the right side and press my hand to the polished silver handle. As the door swings open, the lights shudder awake. This place has been unused for a long time, and the groceries I stopped to pick up were pitiful in the pantry.