Chapter 459: Maribel’s Worry

"So this was Marlon’s weapon?" Maribel asked from beside me.

She stood close enough that her shoulder nearly brushed mine as she stared down at the open box on the floor.

Inside, the Starakian rifle rested against its dark padding.

Even after Marlon had explained what it was, the weapon still looked strange to me. It had the shape of a long rifle, but nothing else about it felt familiar. Its white surface was too smooth, almost like it had been grown rather than built, and thin blue lines ran across the body of the weapon like frozen lightning trapped under the material.

I held it carefully in both hands.

"Yeah," I said. "A Resonance Disruptor. That’s what they call it."

Maribel looked at it more closely, though she did not reach out and touch it.

"That thing can kill us, right?"

I nodded.

"Any gun can kill us if it hits the right place. The brain. The heart. Somewhere it can do enough damage before we regenerate."

I glanced down at my arm, remembering how ordinary bullets had felt against Dullahan’s body. They could hurt. They could slow us down. But they were not enough unless someone got lucky, or knew exactly what they were doing.

"Normal bullets have a harder time piercing our skin," I continued. "Our bodies are tougher, and we heal faster. And once you develop Plasma properly, it can protect you too."

"Plasma?" Maribel asked. "You mean that Symbiote membrane you showed me before?"

"Yeah."

"I haven’t been able to make anything like that."

"I think it will come eventually," I said. "It’s probably slower because you aren’t a full Symbiote Host."

Maribel looked down at her own hand.

She had Dullahan’s energy inside her now, enough to cure the Infection Virus and change parts of her body, but she was not like me. She did not have a Symbiote fully bonded to her. She did not hear Dullahan’s thoughts or feel its instincts underneath her skin.

At least, not the way I did.

I looked back at the Resonance Disruptor.

"But this thing is different," I said. "It’s made specifically to hurt Symbiotes. I don’t know whether Plasma could stop it."

Maribel’s expression tightened.

"Gaspar’s Plasma couldn’t?"

"He took one hit from Marlon when they first met," I replied. "And he ran immediately."

Maribel’s face brightened a little.

"Then it could work."

"I hope so," I said.

Hope was not the same thing as certainty.

The weapon had made Gaspar retreat once, but I did not know whether it would be enough to defeat him. He had probably learned from the first encounter. He would be more careful. He would not stand in front of it and let himself get hit a second time.

Still, it was something.

More than I had before.

I carefully placed the rifle back into the box and closed the lid.

The sound of it shutting felt heavier than it should have.

Maribel watched me for a moment.

"You’re taking it on the rescue mission, aren’t you?" she asked.

"Rescue mission," I repeated with a quiet laugh.

Maribel’s face turned a little red.

"Shut up."

She lightly punched my shoulder.

I smiled despite myself.

The punch barely hurt, but I still made a small sound of pain because my bruises had not completely healed.

Maribel immediately looked guilty.

"Sorry," she said quickly.

"I’m fine."

"You are not fine. You almost died two days ago."

"Still alive, though."

"That is not an answer."

"It kind of is."

Maribel gave me an annoyed look, but there was too much worry in her eyes for it to feel serious.

I rested a hand on top of the closed box.

"I’ll have to take it," I said. "Symbiotes have enhanced senses. There’s a chance Gaspar will feel me if I get too close to Brigantine."

Maribel’s expression became serious again.

"And if he does?"

"Then I use everything I have to push him back long enough for us to escape."

If Gaspar showed up during the rescue, the mission would stop being about getting Mei, Emily, Keith, and Tommy out quietly.

It would become about surviving long enough to get them away from him.

"I can come with you," Maribel said.

I looked at her.

"No."

Her expression changed immediately.

"Ryan—"

"Maribel, it’s already dangerous enough."

"I can help."

"I know you can."

That was what made it difficult.

Maribel was not helpless. She had fought Infected beside me in the theater. She had survived things most people would not. Dullahan’s energy had changed her, and she was getting stronger.

But Brigantine was not just full of Infected.

It was Callighan’s territory.

His soldiers. His guards. Gaspar.

Taking too many people would make the rescue harder, not easier.

"Bringing more people raises the risk," I said. "The plan needs to stay small. Tommy already prepared the boat. He’ll get Emily to it, and Mei and Keith will join him."

I spoke slowly, going over the plan again in my head.

"Rachel, Lucy, and I will be waiting near the pickup point. We get them onto the boat, protect the way back, and leave before Callighan realizes what happened."

Maribel stayed quiet.

"It’s just the worst-case scenario I’m worried about," I added. "Gaspar showing up. The alarm being raised. Something going wrong."

"It sounds too easy," she said.

I looked at her.

"Usually I’m the negative one. You shouldn’t be stealing my job."

Maribel did not smile.

Instead, she raised her hand and gently touched the side of my face.

Her fingers were careful around the bruises.

I stayed still.

"You barely survived that day," she said quietly.

The warmth in her hand made something in my chest tighten.

"I survived in the end," I replied.

But even as I said it, I knew how weak the words sounded.

The truth was that I had not survived because I was stronger than Gaspar.

I had survived because he had not truly tried to kill me.

If Gaspar had wanted me dead, he could have killed me. Ravager could have torn me apart before Kunta’s weapon ever went off. Gaspar had been holding back for some reason, and I still did not know why.

Maribel slowly pulled her hand away.

"You are so frustrating sometimes," she said.

I let out a small breath.

"You’re probably not the only one who thinks that."

She watched me for a second.

Then her eyes lowered.

"Like... your other women?"

The question was quiet.

But I heard what was underneath it.

The uncertainty.

The fear that she was only another complication in my already complicated life.

I looked at her properly.

"Are you really okay being with me," I asked, "when I already have other women in my life?"

Maribel gave a small shrug.

But she did not look unaffected.

"I would feel worse if I wasn’t with you," she said. "And I kept needing stabilization sessions with you in secret."

Her cheeks became faintly red.

"Especially if I was in a relationship with someone else. That would feel wrong."

I looked down at the box.

"Well, I don’t think you’ll need a lot of stabilization," I said, though I was not completely sure.

The truth was, I did not know enough about it.

I knew that Dullahan’s energy inside Maribel needed to remain stable. I knew she had needed help after the cure, and that leaving things unresolved could make her sick.

But I did not know how often stabilization would be needed in the future.

Maybe it would become less necessary with time.

Maybe it would only happen after long periods without it.

The thought pulled my mind somewhere else.

Elena.

It had been almost a month since I had last stabilized her.

She had gone through it several times already, so maybe she was fine. Maybe her body had become more accustomed to Dullahan. Maybe the distance between us did not matter as much anymore.

But I could not know that for certain.

And I hated that.

Elena was on the other side of the Atlantic, somewhere in Saint Petersburg, surrounded by her father’s people and a world I had no way to reach yet.

I had no way to check whether she was safe.

No way to ask whether she felt sick.

No way to help if something went wrong.

Thankfully her situation was different than Emily. I stabilized Elena a few times already so the risks of her turning like Emily were very low.

"By the way," Maribel said suddenly, "I spoke with Carmen."

I looked at her.

For a second, I had almost forgotten about the conversation she had gone to have with Carmen.

Another responsibility I had not expected to carry.

"What did she say?" I asked. Then I hesitated slightly. "I mean... how did she react?"

Maribel gave me a look.

"What do you think?"

That answer alone told me enough.

"She said she can’t do it," Maribel continued. "And she feels guilty that she did it in the first place."

I stayed silent for a moment.

Carmen had been terrified that night.

She had been bitten. She had believed she was going to die. More than that, she had believed Shannon would be left alone in the middle of a Screamer attack, surrounded by Infected and people barely able to defend themselves.

I had not been thinking about the consequences then.

There had not been time.

Carmen was dying.

I had cured her.

But now that the immediate danger had passed, she had time to think about everything else.

"Even though it saved her life?" I asked.

Maribel gave a small shrug.

"Maybe that makes it easier to accept," she said. "But she still feels bad about it. She is also very aware of the age gap."

I looked away.

"I’ve seen worse in my life," I replied.

Maribel’s expression turned flat.

"Ryan."

"I mean it."

I leaned back slightly, though my ribs complained at the movement.

"Before the outbreak, I saw plenty of people getting together for worse reasons. Money. Status. Loneliness. People using each other and pretending it meant something when it didn’t."

I let out a quiet breath.

"This is different. Carmen was dying. I was trying to save her."

Maribel rolled her eyes.

"That doesn’t mean she suddenly feels comfortable about it."

"I know."

And I did.

Carmen had lost her son. I was close enough in age that she saw that loss whenever she looked at him. There was no way for logic alone to make that feeling disappear.

I could tell myself that I had done the right thing.

I could tell myself that Carmen was alive because of it.

But that did not mean she would stop feeling conflicted.

Or ashamed.

Or scared of what came next.

Maribel crossed her arms.

"Regardless," she said, "I think she will come around eventually."

Her voice softened slightly.

"She would not want to leave Shannon alone."

"Yeah," I said quietly.

That was exactly what I was worried about.

Carmen had been trying to stay strong for Shannon since the beginning. Even when the Boardwalk was under attack, even when she believed she had been infected, her first thoughts had been about her daughter.

She would endure almost anything before willingly leaving Shannon behind.

"I’d like to stabilize her quickly, though," I said.

Maribel immediately turned toward me.

Her eyes narrowed.

"And why is that?"

"Not for anything weird," I replied.

The words came out so quickly that they probably made me sound even more suspicious.

Maribel stared at me.

"I guess Carmen is hot after all," she said.

I blinked.

"What?"

"You do think that."

"I have enough hot girlfriends already," I said with a small laugh.

Maribel’s expression did not change.

I looked away, trying not to smile.

Maribel sighed and shook her head.

"It’s just..." I hesitated.

I wanted the stabilization finished because I wanted Carmen safe.

Because I wanted Shannon to have her mother.

Because I did not want anyone else to die from something I might have been able to prevent.

But there was another reason too.

One I did not say.

Recently, I had come too close to dying.

Closer than ever before.

Gaspar had beaten me down like I was nothing. Ravager had appeared, and for the first time since Dullahan had entered my life, I had felt completely powerless.

The anti-Symbiote bomb had saved me.

Sydney had saved me.

Cindy, Rachel, Christopher, Lucy, Maribel, and the others had all stayed beside me after.

But none of that changed the truth.

I could die.

Not someday, far in the future.

Any day.

And if I died before Carmen was properly stabilized, what would happen to her?

The thought made my chest feel heavy.

I could not tell Maribel that.

Not now.

She was already worried about the rescue mission. She had seen what Gaspar did to me. She knew I was taking Marlon’s weapon because I expected the worst.

If I told her that part of me was preparing for the possibility that I would not come back, she would only be more afraid.

So I kept quiet.

Even though I should just ignore Ivy’s words, somehow I took everything she says very seriously.