(awesome new cover by zinszerlina ! remember, I accept cover requests/edits so if you'd like to make some for the series, all you have to do is PM me ;) hope you enjoy the chapter! sorry it's late--again--I'm trying my best with school. love you all xx)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

MICAH IS UTTERLY LOST. He's not sure what's happening at this point. The tracker in Michelle's backpack has set him on high alert (not that he hasn't been on high alert already). He does believe she's telling the truth, that it had been placed there without her knowledge, but he also has to believe she's lying so there aren't any surprises.

Then there's the 748 and Eve situation.

He knew the two had a connection of sorts, but the event that occurred about ten minutes ago threw him for a loop. She had been willing to risk being torn apart just so 748 wouldn't be alone during a mental breakdown? Micah doesn't understand that kind of stubborn devotion. He knows 748 saved her, but Micah had saved her too, and he's confident that she would never risk her life for him.

Not that he would want her to, but why does the fact make him so angry?

He heard their conversation. Partially intentionally and partially subconsciously. It's not his fault he has advanced hearing or that he's never quite learned how to tune certain things in and out. He hears things whether he wants to or not.

Truthfully, he wishes he hadn't heard a whisper.

Why is it that 748 continuously surpasses him in everything? In skill, in strength, in respect. The only people who dislike him are the ones envious of him. Micah would endure another operation in a heartbeat if he were told he would reobtain his memories. It's not fair that 748 repeatedly gets special treatment. Being the first success, he got a lot more leeway than Micah and the other experiments. He had strikes whereas everyone else received lashings their first screwup. He had extra food at dinner if he were to wish for it whereas everyone else would be shoved back into their tiny, dirty cells until dawn.

He had the doctor's affection. The doctor's guidance. He had the type of acceptance and leniency all the other experiments would've killed for.

It's not fair.

He doesn't appreciate anything he's been given.

It's not fair.

Micah has the sudden urge to punch something, someone, but the girl in his arms keeps him from doing so. Maybe for his own good. However, it only makes him more irate. He's always been in the shadow of 748. He's had enough. He's tired of being second place. He's tired of negligence.

Where is his skill, his strength, his respect? Where are his memories? Where is someone willing to stand by his side like Eve is for 748? What the hell is a kiss?

He's tried with all his might to be the best, but 748 has always bested him. The worst part about it is that 748 doesn't try. He doesn't want to be the best. He doesn't want to be anything great, and it pisses Micah off because he's been groomed to be great while Micah, who has always been completely willing as opposed to 748, has been forgotten time and time again as second best.

Always second.

When will he get the recognition he deserves?

The sun is high in the sky when they finally arrive back at the camp. Or close to it. Micah and 748 both stop simultaneously when a sound similar to a gunshot rings through both their advanced ears. They exchange glances just as Eve--always Eve--asks why they stopped. An uneasy feeling settles in the pit of Micah's stomach. He doesn't want to admit the news to himself, nonetheless to her.

"The camp," he whispers, avoiding her eyes. "I think it's under attack."

She gapes at him. "Then we need to hurry up, not slow down."

Micah shakes his head. "I don't know how many there are."

"Exactly. So what if it's only a handful of people? We can take them," she says confidently, holding Robbie's hand tight. He had woken up not too long ago, along with Caroline, who still won't glance Micah's way. The only two left sleeping are the ill ones. Well, he's not sure what Maxie's deal is, but he supposes she falls under the "ill" category.

The wheels in Micah's head start turning. "I don't think we can."

"You don't even know how many there are."

"I have a good idea."

"Do share."

He purses his lips instead.

She huffs. "Seriously? Look, I'm going with or without any of you. I didn't leave Sasha only so she could..." She stops herself short, a dark gloom taking over her face.

Micah catches the scent of blood. He's been smelling it since they left the lab. Eve's bandages. He hadn't wanted to bring it up and anger her, but now he can use it as leverage. "Eve, you're bleeding again. You can't keep stressing your wounds or they'll never heal. You can't fight in this state."

He can see very clearly that she wants to argue, but he can also see that she knows she can't. However, she still takes a step forwards.

And 748 places a gentle hand on her shoulder to halt her. Micah can't believe how easily she obeys. He bets he could've threatened Eve with a bullet between the eyes and she still wouldn't have listened to him. Not like she listens to 748.

It's infuriating.

She looks at 748 longer than she's ever looked at Micah. She hesitates, then huffs again and plants her feet on the pavement. A sign she won't be going anywhere.

Either Micah is too busy watching her, or the sound is too far off for him to hear, but 748 hears it and immediately motions everyone towards the side of the road to an abandoned supermarket. He ushers everyone inside and that's when Micah can hear it too, the rumbling of a hovercar. He sets Maxie down carefully behind the protection of a shelf and Michelle does the same with her son. Caroline and Robbie clutch to Eve and 748 for their lives.

"Hovercar," Micah tells Eve when she looks to him for an answer. He doesn't know why 748 doesn't say it. He was talking plenty earlier, granted he wasn't supposed to.

The group sits and waits, cowering behind a fallen shelf so they can be hidden yet still peer out the glass that somehow still remains. It's a few moments before the hover eventually makes it's way to them. It flies past, no one on it visible yet Micah could hear a clash of voices mixed with the engines.

When 748 is sure it's safe, he stands, and everyone follows suit. Micah despises himself for being included.

"Do you think they're taking people?" Eve asks, panic in her eyes.

Micah shrugs, but she knows the answer anyways. She only asked in hopes of receiving reassurance. He's sorry he can't give her any.

He can make a suggestion, though. "I'll go," he says. "It's my camp, anyways. Everyone is probably wondering where I am."

"I'll go with you," Eve, expectedly, replies.

"No," he says, the argument already in his head. "If they are taking people, you need to stay clear of them. I'll deal with it."

She opens her mouth but a sharp glare from him stops her. She settles for clenching her jaw, her teeth gritting, and folding her arms across her chest. "Be quick," she snaps.

Micah reluctantly leaves them behind. There's a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach that he can't describe. Something between anxiousness and anger. His mind is jumbled with the events from the past six hours running together, joining only to mix into one large mess. The tracking device on Michelle is still bothering him. The fact that 748 got his memories back is still bothering him. The fact that Eve still can't realize he's not the bad guy is still bothering him. He doesn't want to leave her yet there's relief being out of her presence.

He uses his unnatural speed to shorten the already short distance. He's crouching behind shrubbery on the outside of the camp within minutes. There's hover cars lined down the street, about five of them. Beastly experiments he vaguely remembers ushers person after person into one of the ships. When a ship is packed full, it flies down the street and the next ship pulls forward. Micah's fists clench at the sight.

All of his hard work, all of those dedicated hours put into establishing his camp is being taken away from him in moments. He has an idea of who is behind this, but he doesn't quite want to admit it to himself.

Talon comes out of the building, lead by four experiments as buff as him. It's not surprising to see Talon in chains, but it is surprising to see Talon's jaw tightened in anger, blood dripping from his hands as his nails dig into his palms. He isn't going willingly, which adds more confusion to the puzzle struggling to piece together in Micah's brain. He might know the culprit, but the motive is still unclear.

Unless...

Micah is seething with anger as realization dawns on him, his own hands bloodied now as he holds himself back from jumping into the scene. That's the last thing he needs to do. He needs to stay free so he can get his revenge for such a betrayal.

It seems all that happens to him nowadays is betrayal. It adds fuel to the fire of his wrath, so intense he has to flee the camp before he does something irrational. He darts into the woods across the street, so quick he's merely a breeze cooling bystanders faces. He runs deep into the forest, far enough so no one will hear him when he punches the trunk of a tree in half. He tears the stump out of the ground and throws it with so much force, it snaps the tree it lands against. His breathing is so erratic it feels like he's suffocating.

He doesn't destroy anything else. He drops to the dirt and shoves his hands in the soil to stifle the urge. His chest aches from the lack of air in his lungs. He closes his eyes and leans his head back on an unharmed tree, focusing on regathering his wits. Throwing tantrums will get him nowhere. He needs to consider the situation with a clear head.

That way his revenge will not fail.

***

Harry listens to the distant shouts with a frown, his brain reeling. It's obvious from what he can depict that they're taking the refugees--or at least, that's the word he hears them using. He doesn't know why, though, unless it's to prolong the division between experiments and Normals. To prove that Normals no longer have power in society. That's the only reason he can imagine them going through the trouble of capturing so many people.

But that still doesn't add up.

There's just something off about the entire thing. Something that doesn't make sense, but he doesn't know what that something is.

His head begins to hurt from straining his hearing and from contemplating so much.

Evelyn startles him when she taps his shoulder. He'd been so engrossed in a conversation miles away that he forgot where he was. She looks surprised that he jumped, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh, sorry..." She trails off uncertainly, then shakes her head slightly. "I was just going to ask you what you were listening to. You looked worried."

He would bite his lip if his new canines wouldn't slice it. He settles for a shrug instead. Then he gestures to his throat. It hasn't stopped burning since the last time they spoke, and he doesn't want to make that mistake again.

"Right," she murmurs. "Sorry."

His frown returns. Since when does she apologize? Nonetheless, twice in under five minutes.

He listens to her pulse, but it's normal. He listens to the blood in her veins, but there's no rise in temperature to cause a fever. There is, however, a knot in his stomach so tight he has to look away from her as the blood from her legs reaches his nose. The constant battle with the monster inside him is getting harder and harder to fight the more exhausted he gets.

The two stand side-by-side with their shoulders near but not touching. She seems to be in thought as she crosses her arms, staring down the street at nothing. He's stuck between wanting to move closer and wanting to move away. He won't allow himself to hurt her again, so he tries to casually spread the gap separating them.

Of course, she notices, and her cheeks flush a bright red as she moves away as well. "Sorry," she mutters again, then grimaces to herself and walks away.

He wishes his throat wasn't causing him so much agony so he could go after her.

Suddenly, he's angry. At what he is. That's nothing new, though. He's always angry when he takes a moment to consider what he's become. And it steadily gets worse the longer he lives. Will there be a third operation? He surely wouldn't be surprised, but he'd hate it all the same. Even if he wouldn't trade his memories to take back the operation, that doesn't make anything better. He remembers everything, which is incredible, but what good is it doing him? His sanity is still slipping, his body is still in pain, and he's still a monster.

Nothing ever goes in his favor.

Has he been cursed? Is the universe set on making his life a living hell? He hates to admit it, but the universe is winning. He can't fight the monster forever.

Sometimes, fighting doesn't seem worth it anymore.

What's the point of fighting a battle that in the end you know you can't win?