The Six: Genesis | A Reverse Harem Novel

Ninety-Six

If it could go wrong, it went wrong.

But nothing is nearly as wrong as the situation I find myself in now. I thought, idiotically, I could beat Chris, Charlie, and Michael to the house. Another miscalculation on my part, especially considering the winding drive we took to the train station to find it puffing great billowing clouds of black smoke from its roof like a churning chimney.

A man hellbent on revenge against his ex escaping drove through the terminal to kill them. He'd missed—thankfully—and drove into a tunnel. His vehicle—him in it—was struck by a bullet train and burst into flames. In a matter of minutes, the entire acropolis was taken by the fiery inferno.

Even two hours west, the rampaging flames with their violent smoke scratched at the blue heavens. According to the news stations, despite their best efforts, at least 200 people were missing, and another 350 were injured. So far, three were dead—including the road-raging man who started the tragedy.

Jason suggested driving, but we didn't have the time. It was more than I could bear to spend 13 hours in a vehicle with both of them watching my every move. And the others, waiting for us in the Aracell Compound. I'd be lying if I said it isn't one of my favorites and one of the few off the books, hidden behind the wall of a blind trust and bankrolled by offshore accounts.

Built into the side of a small mountain, the place rises out the side on the backs of its own rock. Sitting on a plush 50 acres on the cusp of a great green valley, Aracell is marvelous in spring. Thousands of flowers rise from the ground to sway in the wind, green grasses flowing in every direction for miles. When night falls, the stars cascade across the horizon unlike anywhere else.

My heart clenches ruefully. There is one other place where the stars go for miles, but I haven't returned in years and I have no plans to do so until I die and my body joins my family in our shared mausoleum.

The air is stale and my chair is too narrow in this bustling airport. A nasal voice pitches over the intercom and I sink lower, wrapping my arms around myself and hunching my shoulders. My jacket barely blocks out the bright ceiling lights and does nothing to dull the pounding footsteps or the crowds rushing to speak over one another.

I loathe airports.

Unfortunately, we didn't have time to move to a private one. We need to blend in and it's far more difficult to pinpoint a target mixed into an environment. Despite Jason's protests and my own misgivings, we drove two hours to the west and purchased tickets to a city close to where Aracell lords.

Hunger and doubt gnaw at my stomach. Lewis left me here with a soft, chaste kiss, venturing into the droves of travelers to find something to eat. On his heels, Jason hurried to the nearest restroom, an intense look on his face. Foolishly, I hope Lewis returns first, but he doesn't.

Less than five minutes later, Jason plops in the seat next to me and stretches out his long legs. Warm and writhing with muscle, they roil under his jeans. I sit back, but I can't escape the heat of his thigh as it presses to mine.

Awareness prickles my right cheek. He's staring at me. He damn near stared at me the entire drive over here, through security, and when I plopped down in a secluded corner of the terminal.

I'm not sure if it's luck or time giving us the edge, but I don't want to think too deeply about it. There's still the chance someone could be trailing us or could attack us. Though, all I can read on our neighbor's faces are exhaustion, annoyance, and a flicker of lust as people hurry by.

"Ask," I huff, refusing to look in his direction. "I know you want to. So, go ahead."

"You want to talk?"