Double-Blind: A Modern LITRPG

Chapter 326

As we walked, I tried to evaluate the situation. I had no intention to run—not yet. For the moment, at least in theory, I held the position of power. Miles was still curious—not only about what I could do, but what had already been done.

Miles was better armed Dorothy, desperate for a peek behind the emerald curtain.

Meanwhile, I played the wizard.

Like the wizard, I knew that what actually lay behind the curtain was a hard sell. On the surface level, the Nursery would resemble another form of organization involving a singular leader that Miles would be intimately familiar with. There was no denying the parallels. Distracting him with the specific usefulness of the situation, drawing his attention from the potential generalizations to the more direct and invaluable applications, was the only way this worked.

How this went–and by that, I mean how it all went down–depended almost entirely on how Miles' reacted once the curiosity was gone. His ability to stay objective.

Finger's crossed, I'd already blown that out of the water.

I'd instinctively paused at the fork in the hallway, weighing my options between the current floor and the garage's echoing stairwell. The familiar tension of the moment crawled across my skin—I'd been in this position annoyingly often.

"Keep moving." Miles' voice sliced through my deliberation, quiet but insistent, the threat as subtle as a knife against silk.

It was nothing new. This wasn't even the first instance I'd been held up at weapon-point in a parking garage by law enforcement. But unlike the previous situations, Miles didn't cajole, or shove, or push the front of the crossbow into my back. If anything, it was the opposite. I'd changed up my speed a little, alternating between lagging and picking up the pace. And Miles' stayed consistent in his spacing, positioning himself a fixed distance behind me and staying there. His finger rested on the trigger-guard rather than the trigger. And maybe the most concerning, he never looked worried.

This was where he lived, inside constant vigilance. Reversing our positions—if I'd actually had a mind to do so—would be difficult, even under the cover of a damn good distraction. His calculated positioning gave him ample room to react while actively denying me the same luxury."Friendly warning. I really don't like the way you're looking at me right now." Miles smiled thinly.

Not seeing any reason to stall further, I tilted my head towards the garage. "Then hurry the fuck up and tell me where to go."

There was a long pause before he gestured to the door ahead. I went through it and paused again, maybe with a little more emphasis than necessary.

In the corner reflection mirror above, Miles' shoulders slumped, and he rolled his eyes. "You gonna make everything a power struggle? To your car, wise guy."

"There's a difference between making everything a power struggle and not being psychic."

He gave me an annoyed look. "Says the psychic." As we navigated the countless cars, I found myself looking around for a potential exit. Watching to see if Miles' positioning wavered, even for a second. The remote lock of a vehicle several levels above or below startled us both. But the crossbow never left my back. The only difference was, for a split-second, Miles' finger rested on the trigger.

I stopped behind the Prius, and half-turned to warn him. "FOB's in my inventory."

Crossbow still trained at my back, Miles was fiddling with something. He paused, and then nodded. "Get it. Slowly."

Keeping the maneuver unhurried and smooth, I reached into my digital storage and withdrew the bulky fob squeezed between my thumb and index finger and shifted my grip to press the unlock button twice. He gestured to the door, and I realized with a surge of worry what he wanted.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

"Wouldn't it be safer if you drove?"

"If there was a transport partition, and I knew where we were going, sure. In our current circumstances? Not so much. Stop stalling and get in."

With no other option I did what I was told, settled into the seat, strapped in, and pressed the remote start as Miles slid in the back.

A cold lash of something thin and flexible snapped across my neck. The immediate panic that invoked faded as the tightness loosened, the thick zip tie secured by the seat's headrest locking my head into place. Still, it was hardly comfortable, and in the case of an accident would probably break my neck.

I grimaced, glaring at him through the rear-view. "Yeah. Not excessive at all."

"Would those AG wannabes you took out during the transposition think it's excessive?" Miles raised an eyebrow.

"That was self-defense."

He snorted. "Based on what came out a little later on, I'm actually inclined to believe you. But even if your account is a hundred percent accurate, you still beat the living shit out of three people who had you dead to rights, unconscious in the back of a van."

Point taken.

The city lights streaked past the windows as I reminded myself, at least a dozen times over the course of the drive, that technically, this was all still heading in the direction I'd hoped. It was a messy plan born out of desperation, but the most difficult part–correctly predicting that Miles' would read between the lines of my character sheet and elucidate there was something else happening, and upon that conclusion, decide to inquire further instead of ending me outright–was already done.

Even with that small comfort, the zip-tie became my entire world—a tireless serpent coiled around my throat. It constricted just enough to transform each breath into conscious labor, strangling the rhythmic inhales and exhales that normally kept panic at bay. With each heartbeat, the hard edge seemed to dig deeper.

Whenever my attention to it lapsed and I turned my head to check for oncoming traffic, it tugged, offering an infrequent reminder that it was there. After what felt like an eternity, we pulled up in front of the nursery.

"Why are we stopping?" Miles asked.

"Because this is it."

Squinting in disbelief, he rolled down the tinted back window for a better look. The nursery stood unassumingly among its neighbors—a large two-story house in one of those sprawling suburbs where anonymity was the most valuable currency. Its deliberate ordinariness, the calculated absence of any distinctive feature, was precisely why I'd chosen it. The perfect camouflage hides in plain sight. Unlike many of the surrounding homes, some of which had been clearly abandoned, the lawn was perfectly manicured, illuminated by the motion detectors in the front.

"Not very secure. Lots of lights on inside, too," Miles mused, eyes flicking between several curtained windows, resting on the silhouettes of people moving behind them.

"Some of them have trouble sleeping." I explained. "Others just prefer working at night."

Like clockwork, Miles latched onto that immediately. "What sort of work?"

"Research projects, crafting, creativity. Themselves. Whatever they want. Autonomy is key here. Many come from more high-pressure environments where everything is decided for them and obedience is demanded, so the flexibility means a lot to them."

"They don't sound like prisoners."

"They're not."

"Alright. Let's see inside."

I rubbed the fading imprint on my neck and gave him a meaningful look. "If I could, I'd like to make a request."

"Depends on what it is."

I sighed. "Just... put the crossbow away."

"Not a snowball’s chance in hell."

"Seriously." I twisted in my seat to look at him, trying to impart authenticity to the sentiment. "If you see a single weapon present, feel free to whip out whatever and open-carry. But you won't."

"No guards?" Miles asked, observing my reaction.

"There are lookouts, sure. But the only way this place works is if it flies under the radar."

Miles' eyes flitted back and forth, curiosity warring with caution. I'd handed him Pandora's box, and it looked nothing like he'd expected. The smartest thing he could do right now was hand it back and walk away. To do that would be to defy his very nature.

Miles was clever. But he was still only human.

Finally, he lowered the crossbow and stuffed it back in his inventory. He paused and caught my eye in the rearview. "If I see so much as a fire-poker pointed my way, we're right back where we started."

I let it pass without comment and stepped out of the vehicle.