Superior

Chapter 45

Chapter Forty-Five

Delaney

Silence rang out after Abby's calm statement—thick, heavy silence that felt just a little bit too resigned. It was almost as if, between her serene expression and relaxed posture, Abby had just accepted her fate to be one of certain death.

And perhaps she had.

"They have to save us," I insisted, leaning forward.

Abby stared at me for a long moment before shaking her head and laughing almost sympathetically. "Oh, they have to, do they?" She snorted. "They didn't make any promises. And even if they had, I don't think they would mind breaking them."

I glanced desperately at Trai, who shook his head at me, silently agreeing with his sister. I floundered for a response, but wasn't thinking properly; instead, I found myself fighting another wave of dizziness. It was only a moment before the spell had faded away, though it didn't leave me in anything close to a better state of mind.

"What, then?" I demanded, rattling against my bonds. "What happens to us?"

Abby shrugged. "It'd be easier to answer that if Nessa had given us a better idea of the Pro-Inferiors' plan. Since we have no idea what's going to happen, all we can do is wait and hope that someone stumbles upon us eventually. Thing is, though, I doubt anyone will."

I blanched. "That's not reassuring," I murmured, still lightheaded. "At all."

"Yeah, well, it's reality." Abby's tone was dry, harsh, but I could see in her eyes that she, too, was concerned about our plight.

I stared at the glass wall opposite us, looking out into Dr. Leary's main laboratory, where the vats of developing human bodies lurked just out of sight. Despite Trai and Abby's doubts, I couldn't lose the sliver of hope that somehow, we'd be okay. We had to be. Maybe it was the fever playing tricks on my mind, but my desire to be rescued was so strong at that moment that I thought it might actually happen.

Based on Abby's expression, though, she didn't think anything of the sort.

"So that's it?" I demanded fiercely, glaring sideways at Abby. She hung her head, but didn't respond.

Abigail Kaiser, queen of bold remarks and snarky comebacks, did not respond.

I leaned way forward in my seat, ignoring the way the bands tightened, ignoring the pounding of my head and the sheen of sweat coating my skin. Abby wouldn't look at me, but I stared at her until she did. Through teeth clenched in determination and pain, I hissed, "You are not giving up, Abigail. No way; not after coming this far."

I made sure to keep my eyes boring into hers, freezing her whenever she tried to turn away. Yet her expression remained blank, cold—hopeless. I wasn't sure what had happened to incur her change of heart, but at some point when I was unconscious, Abby had apparently found a new perspective. All the dauntless, spitfire energy she usually possessed had disappeared completely, replaced with an acquiescent new guise. And I didn't like it.

I didn't like it at all.

"Abby, please," I begged. "You can't just give up. You're...you're..." I could only shake my head, unable to form the words that would validate my argument. I didn't know how to say that, despite her seeming dislike of me, it was Abby's unending stream of sarcastic positivity that kept me from losing hope on more than one occasion. She had a weird, tactless way of doing it, but Abby somehow managed to prevent us from diving into the depths of self-pity over and over and over again. Now, though, she was teetering on the precipice herself.