47 | Eleven

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Prioritise yourself for once.

I wince, moving uncomfortable on the couch, and feel two pairs of eyes snap to me in concern.

I scowl at my brother and Archer, "I'm fine." I say for probably the fifth time since we'd walked through the front door of the house, after spending the last week at the bar, recuperating our energy.

Archer rolls his eyes, hand flexing where it rests on my hip and goes back to glancing at the files.

Clay takes a few more seconds to look away, his green eyes alight with worry.

"Clay." I warn, "I promise."

He narrows his eyes on me.

"You've been a brother for five seconds, calm down."

"I have catching up to do." He snarks back and I grimace but he nods, looking away and letting me rest.

"Who was born first?" Liam asks, eyes flicking between the two of us.

I lift my head, turning to look at the boy before seeing everyone turn to look at me, curiosity int heir gaze.

Clay lifts a brow, "Am I older?"

"We're the same age." I remind them. "Does it really matter?"

Clay smirks, "So, I'm the oldest." He says it as if it's a statement.

"Does it really matter?" I repeat.

"Yes," Clay, Cleo and Liam reply at the same time.

I huff, the movement causing a wound to pull harshly. "Yes, you were born first. Seven minutes I'm pretty sure."

Clay grins, running a hand through his hair before he looks back to the paperwork, and my gaze follows.

"So, you guys were kept on a ship?" Clay says, bringing the attention back to the matter at hand.

"Yeah." Archer mutters, his thumb making small circles on the patch of skin exposed from my shirt riding up.

"It was a storage container ship." I say, thinking of the maze of containers we had to run through to escape.

"Any idea who owned it?"

I shake my head before pausing, "When they brought up the Captain, the also mentioned Volkov."

Clay narrows his eyes before reaching over to his laptop, booting it up. "The Volkov family have their fingers dipped in a lot of illegal business ventures." He taps his keyboard, bringing up a browser. "They use ships to smuggle their weapons and drugs from one end of the world to another, it could be theirs." He explains out loud.

"It seems likely." Archer mutters absentmindedly, reaching forward to grab a piece of paper, bringing it closer for inspection.

"Maybe it's the blood type." He mutters and I look over his shoulder at the information.

"Type O Positive." I mutter.

Archer drops the paper, grabbing another one, "Type AB Negative. They're not chosen for their blood type then." 

Clay pauses his typing, "Scarlett was type AB negative."

I read through the information, realising it's one I've already read.

Subject #002365 - Twelfth injection. | 23/10/2019 (D/M/Y)

Gender: F

Age: twenty-six

Weight: 61kg

Blood type: AB Negative.

Patient has had an adverse reaction; DS has ordered a destruction of all known paperwork. Subject to be destroyed.

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