Wrong Side Of Dead Read Online Free Page B

brother, Marcus. She led the charge, hands balled into fists, clearly unhappy with our gift. Behind her trailed Milo Gant and Wyatt Truman, both studies in shock. Rightfully so, I guess. We hadn’tleft with the intention of bringing home a prisoner. It just worked out that way.
    My heart went out to Milo for the horror he must have felt at the sight of someone he’d once loved so much reduced to so little. Milo had been there with me the night Felix was infected. He’d been shot in the abdomen and hadn’t actually seen it happen, but that had only added to his guilt. Neither of us had been able to save Felix.
    “Hey,” Kismet said. “Did Dr. Vansis say you could be up and around like this?” When it came to her former Hunters, she was a mother hen to the end.
    “Yeah, as long as I don’t overdo it and pull my stitches,” Milo replied. His voice was rough, weighed down with emotion. He met my gaze, and I couldn’t even muster a supportive smile for the young man who’d once tried to kill me and who I now counted as one of my best friends.
    “I take it
that
has information,” Astrid said, pointing at Felix.
    Back to business. Curiosity was drawing a small crowd that wisely kept its distance.
    “He knows who’s creating and organizing the Halfies, and why,” Phineas said.
    “Is it sane?”
    “Mostly, yes. And self-aware.”
    “And it tells us in exchange for what?”
    “Good-byes to old friends before he’s executed.”
    Astrid glanced at Milo, who looked slightly ill—whether at the idea of talking to Felix or the mention of his execution, I didn’t know. But my money was on the latter. She turned back to our little group. “Who’s responsible?”
If he gets loose and bites someone
dangled at the end of the question.
    “I am,” Kismet and I said in stereo.
    Behind Astrid, Wyatt frowned, eyebrows furrowing.The silent disapproval irritated me, just as most of our interactions over the last few weeks had irritated me. Irrationally, maybe, but not entirely my fault. He was in the room, yelling right back, during the argument two weeks ago that fractured us down the middle.
    “Fine,” Astrid said. “Lock him up. We’ll debrief in the conference room in fifteen minutes, then see what the prisoner has to say.” She eyeballed everyone in our little cluster, nostrils flaring. “Who’s bleeding?”
    I touched my cheek. The cut had already scabbed over, the blood around it drying to a flaky mess on my skin.
    “I am,” Phin said.
    “What?” I rounded on him, planting both hands on my hips, all of my irritation firmly directed at him now. I couldn’t see any wounds, but with his black clothes that meant nothing. “How?”
    “The scuffle on the roof. One of the half-Bloods had a switchblade. It isn’t deep.” From his tone of voice, you’d think it was just a mosquito bite. And considering that two months ago he’d been kidnapped and cut open while fully conscious, a minor stab wound probably didn’t seem very important. But it still made me want to slap him.
    “Get it treated,” Astrid said.
    “But—”
    “Stone, make sure he gets it looked at.”
    I opened my mouth to argue, then clamped it shut. It didn’t matter that my feet hurt from those fucking boots, or that I desperately wanted to shower blood and bits of roof grit off my skin and maybe put on some real clothes. Astrid wasn’t a large woman, but her word was law. Especially in that impatient voice.
    “Fine,” I said.
    The infirmary was to the left of Operations, about halfway down the length of the mall. Why so far down? It never made sense to me, but I didn’t design the place.Maybe because it was closer to the training rooms, where injuries tended to happen on a regular basis. I still felt ridiculous, click-clacking my way down the hall.
    Partway there, I grabbed Phin’s arm. “Hold on for a second.” I balanced on my left foot and yanked down the zipper on the right boot. Cool air hit my legs, and I peeled the offending