Mel has confirmed that Ariana and the baby are okay, and that’s all I’ve wanted to hear. Though both Ben and Mel have tried to broach the subject of Ariana with me on several occasions, I won’t put either of them in the middle.
Even if Ariana has no interest in being with me, I thought she would at least have kept the line of communication open for the baby’s sake.
But she’s made no effort at all and her silence is pretty damning.
If Zane is telling me the truth—and I honestly think he was—then why hasn’t she reached out to me? It can’t be so dangerous that she couldn’t even risk a call?
I’m trying to work out how I feel about this new information. I still love her. There’s no question about that, or that I severely miss her. The gigantic-sized hole in my life attests to that. And I’m curious as fuck about the baby. Is she visibly pregnant now? Is the baby kicking yet? How big are her boobs? I toss that last thought out of my head because I know it makes me sound like a selfish prick. Two months without some bedroom action can do that to a guy. My mind instantly sinks to the gutter, and I groan as images of Ariana float through my mind. Certain parts of my body stiffen, and I turn over onto my stomach, hot and frustrated as hell.
I slam my palms into my face. Focus on priorities, douche.
If Ariana isn’t with Zane, then it means one of two things. One, she has decided she doesn’t want to be with either of us, or two, she wants to be with me. My heart soars at the prospect but then twists into a familiar ball of emotion. Trying to unravel my muddled thoughts is akin to climbing Mount Everest naked in freezing temps with a ten-ton load on my back, a.k.a. pretty frigging nightmarish. Amber has tried to coax me into discussing it, but it feels wrong to talk with her about something so personal and intimate. And I know for a fact that Ariana wouldn’t like me speaking about this with her. Besides, I don’t know how I could explain it to Amber when I can’t fully decipher it myself.
What I do know is that I need Ariana to remind me who I truly am. And that my life means nothing without her.
Whether we can overcome all the hurtful words, the litany of secrets, and the destructive lies, is anyone’s guess, and it’s those thoughts, and concern for her safety, that keep me awake half the night.
CHAPTER 15
I wake the next morning with a dull pounding in my head and a stabbing pain at the back of my eyes. It feels like I’ve slept for about twenty seconds. Staggering out of bed, I peer in the mirror and groan. Bloodshot eyes attest to my sleep-deprived state and I look rough. My thoughts immediately drift to Ariana as I shave. The thought of Micha laying her hands on my sweetheart strikes fear deep into my soul. Terror like no other takes hold of my heart, squeezing it to the point of excruciating pain. If anything has happened to her, I swear, I’ll tear this world apart until I find Micha and rip her ugly heart right out of her chest.
Placing the razor down on the sink, I clutch my temples and close my eyes. Where are you? I call out in my head for the millionth time. My eyes flit wide-open as the thought lodges in my brain. Hang on here a second. Ariana and Zane share an ability to communicate through their minds. So, how can he not know where she is?
Something about this doesn’t add up. Doesn’t add up at all. That douche has been holding out on me! Cursing my naiveté, I splash water on my face and quickly towel it dry. I chuck on my clothes and dash out of the pod, the laces on my boots trailing the ground.
I’m out of breath by the time I reach the communications tent. Standing in line, I attempt to summon some hidden inner patience. After ten anxious minutes, I’m up, and I waste no time connecting to the Saoirse line. “Have you heard from her?” Zane asks, the second he comes on the call.
“No,” I grit out. “I want to know what the fuck you’re playing at.”
“What are you talking about now?”
“How can you not know where she is, when you have the ability to communicate with your minds? What kind of twisted, sick joke is this? I’ve been up most of the night in a blind panic.”
“You’re not the only one losing sleep. I can’t connect to her mind. She’s shutting me out.”
I step back, surprised. My brain mulls it over quickly. “If she’s consciously shutting you out, then how is she missing? Maybe she just doesn’t want you to know where she’s going.” As I articulate the thought, some of the stress diminishes.
“She could be unconscious. I’ve no way of knowing.”
Any sense of minor relief I just felt floats away. Damnit! This could actually be much worse than I’d imagined. “Will you keep trying?”
“I’m checking in every five minutes. If I get through to her, I’ll let you know.”
I disconnect the call and walk back to my pod lost in the hideous thoughts infecting my brain.
I’m seriously struggling to keep my eyes open. The swaying motion of the truck as it chugs forward on bumpy roads is sleep inducing, and my eyes keep flickering shut. The soldier across from me smirks.
Ten seconds later, the smirk is wiped clear off his face.
An earth-shattering explosion rips through the air and the truck careers wildly from side to side. Fully awake now, I grip the bench underneath me and try to stay upright. “Ambush!” the call comes from the front. Shit, not again. This is becoming far too regular an occurrence to be coincidental. If it continues, our revolution will be wiped out before it’s even begun.
My stomach lurches as I’m thrown forcefully back against the side of the truck. I tighten my hold on the bench, ignoring the stinging pain in my knuckles. A loud scraping sound pierces deep in my skull as bodies are flung all over the place. My body jolts backward as the truck topples onto its side and I almost lose my grip. A girl lands facedown on my lap, her head slapping hard against my knee. Her head jerks back and she slithers down behind me, blood oozing from the gash on her forehead. Every instinct implores me to help her, but if I loosen my grip, I’ll fly aimlessly like the rest of them. Forcing the bile back down my throat, I cling on tenaciously.
The truck slides along the pavement for another minute or two and then comes to a halt. Carefully releasing my hands, I let my body fall back and stretch out my legs, crawling over the bench. I search for the girl. She’s still unconscious. Pressing my fingers to the pulse at her wrist, I sigh in relief at the thudding flow of blood in her veins. Steadying my feet on the ground, I lift her up and over my shoulder and scramble out of the truck.
A shrill whistle rings out and my head flits up. A solider stands at the edge of the adjoining woods, beckoning me with his fingers. I run toward him and duck into the cover of the trees. “Is she alive?” I nod. “Place her with that pile,” he says, pointing to a line of five or six bodies on the forest floor.
I move over and gently deposit her on the ground. Swinging around, I notice the second pile of soldiers to the left. Another solider is busy draping a white sheet over the faces of the dead. I shake my head. Only two months in the firing line and I’ve already seen my fill of death.
“Any more alive in the back?” the first soldier asks me.
“I’ll check.” I sling my rifle off my shoulder and pull back the chamber, readying my weapon. I inch slowly out from under the blanket of trees.
I’ve just reached the back of the truck when a shot whizzes over my head, originating from an elevated position on my right. Dropping to the floor, I silently curse. That was way too close. Lifting my head a millimeter, I lock eyes with the Saoirse soldier and pin him with a scathing look. I didn’t think I had to tell him to watch my back. Fucking idiot. He gestures with his hand, and I hop up and jump into the back of the vehicle.
Most of my colleagues are alive, though almost all of them have picked up an injury. We manage to extract them while a bunch of Saoirse soldiers hold the government forces at bay. As I help the last soldier out of the vehicle, I squint at the truck in front. I don’t think they were as lucky. There’s a crater-sized hole in the middle of the vehicle and a fire blazes fiercely out of contr
ol.
Out of the forty who left the base today, there are eighteen of us left. The Command Sergeant has radioed for assistance, and we just need to hold them off until our reinforcements arrive. As we hole up in the center of the woods, every pair of eyes scans the forest on all sides. Anxiousness prickles underneath the surface of my skin. No one speaks. Hell, we’re almost afraid to breathe. The government forces are aware that we are hiding in here. For all we know, they’ve already received backup. They could be advancing on us at this very second.
The smell of the forest reminds me of Ariana, and I lose myself in the memory of the first time I saw her jogging the Woodland grid at the Novo running track. Even though I thought I’d the weight of the world on my shoulders back then, it really pales into comparison with the crap of my so-called life now.
A sharp crack focuses my attention. I trade an uneasy look with the soldier beside me as I aim my gun in front of me.
Shots ring out in uniformity, and I unload my weapon, angling my gun in a sweeping motion as I spot government troops advancing through the trees on my left. “Fall back,” the sergeant commands, and I dart around the side of the closest tree and take shelter. Rapid fire is exchanged on both sides, and I spot several of my colleagues face planting the ground as the remainder dive for cover. I trade an apprehensive look with a female soldier across from me at the same moment a bullet lodges in her skull. The lights are out instantly, and her wide-eyed stare pierces my soul as she falls to the ground.
Holy crap, this is bad, real bad. We scramble back further as the soldiers advance, and I face the very real prospect of my imminent death. They are coming at us way too fast. We must be down to ten men by now, and I figure there’s at least double that number advancing on us.
The odds are not looking good.
But there isn’t time to panic. Reloading my weapon, I edge out slightly and take aim. The rifle flies out of my hand as a searing pain shoots up my arm. Blood spills out of the gushing wound in my upper arm. Clenching my teeth, I ignore the pain and lunge at the advancing soldier. If I’m going to die in this moment, I’m not going down without a decent fight.
I knock him to the floor, and he loses hold of his weapon as he thrashes about. Thrusting his head forward, he head-butts me and I stagger back, clutching my pounding skull. Stars swim in front of my eyes as he grips me in a headlock and squeezes. Blood stampedes through my veins, and rage that had been simmering under the surface makes a welcome break for freedom, infusing every cell in my body. Using the full force of my body I lunge forward and then swing back, repeating this several times until he loosens his grip. I rip his arms away from my neck and twist around, throwing him backward.
He lands on his back on the grassy forest floor. Darting aside, I pick up my weapon and jab the butt repeatedly in his face. When his limbs turn to jelly underneath me, I stand up and shoot him in the head. My head whips around at the sound of a shrill female cry. A dark-haired girl is wrestling with a male soldier at least twice her size on the ground. Stalking forward, I fist my hand in his jacket and yank him off her. I pound my fist into his face a couple of times until he crumples in my hold. I drop him as if he’s germ-ridden. Quickly scanning my surroundings, I extend a hand and help the girl to her feet.
Blood pours down my arm but I barely feel a twinge. “Stay here and don’t move,” I instruct.
Her face is pale with fright. “Thank you,” she whispers.
I creep around the other side of the tree to check out the layout of the land. Gunshots ring out behind the government forces and I stop in my tracks, puzzled and confused. Then I notice our backup pinning the enemy in from the other side, and every ounce of breath I’d been holding releases in a thankful rush. The government forces are caught off-guard as they twist around nervously, trying to fend off attack from both directions. Taking aim, I fire until there are no more bullets left in my gun.
Five minutes later and it’s all over. I slump to the ground, weak from blood loss and the aftermath of a mad adrenaline rush. “Oh my God, Cal!” a female voice says, crouching down beside me.
I stare into a familiar pair of blue eyes. “Isla? What are you doing here?” I can barely muster the energy to speak.
“Where are you hurt?”
“Gunshot wound to the arm.” I feebly point with my finger.
She rips the cloth of my shirt up the middle and gasps. “Damn, that’s nasty.” Her lips contort. “Here,” she adds, dropping a small white pill in my hand. “Take that for the pain.”
The cavalry arrives just after that. The medication is already doing a job on my arm, and though it still radiates pain, I help load the injured and the bodies onto the back of the truck.
Isla introduces me to some of her rebel friends as we travel back to the base. We talk in low voices. Isla explains how she managed to escape from Clementia before it was wiped out and that she’s been with a local Connecticut rebel group ever since. “Zane got out too,” I tell her, figuring she’d want to know.
“I know. I’ve seen him.” Her expression is empty. I raise a brow. “He came looking for me.” Okay, so I’m getting that she doesn’t want to talk about it. She turns and faces me. “Why aren’t you with Ariana in Greece?”
My stomach sours. “Long story.” I eye her wearily and she nods in understanding. A tall dude with unkempt blond hair and wide navy blue eyes stares at me funnily. “What’s your problem?”
“You’re Ariana’s fiancé?
I pause briefly before answering. The status of our engagement is up in the air like our entire relationship. I don’t know what I am to her anymore, if I’m anything. But my competitive radar is tingling and I’m not telling this guy that. “Yeah. What’s it to you?”
“Just curious. I thought doll-face was with that other guy.”
Isla pins him with a wide-eyed look and shakes her head. He smirks.
“Doll-face?” I inquire, my intestines twisting in my gut.
“That’s my nickname for her.”
WTF? Who is this guy? And what does Ariana mean to him? I jump out of my seat and put my face in his.
“Whoa, man. Back off,” he says, though he doesn’t even flinch.
Isla tugs me back down. “Jesus, Cal. Will you calm the hell down?” She drags her fingers nervously through her hair. Of course, she understands what’s been done to me, and I’ve probably just scared the shit out of her.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, Isla. But this guy is getting on my nerves.”
“Jax,” Isla says, “Cut the crap, okay?”
“Whatever, sweetness.” He shoots her a flippant look.
“Sweetness?” I’m wondering if my pain meds are affecting my listening skills. Did he really say “sweetness?”
“Yeah, that’s my nickname for the beauty sitting beside you.” He winks at her suggestively.
I peek at Isla and do a double-take. “Are you … blushing?” I clutch her chin and peer at her skin.
“I hate you,” she says through gritted teeth, slapping my hand away.
Jax chuckles and we share a grin, some of the tension easing between us. Though this guy appears to have fallen out of the crazy tree and hit every branch on his way down, it could be fun with him around. “How do you know Ariana?”
“We were cellmates one time,” he says, rather cryptically. “How is she doing?”
“I … she’s missing,” I admit, in an unusual moment of frankness.
“Damn,” Jax says, all the laughter gone from his eyes. “I hope she’s okay.”
“Me too, buddy.”
Back at base, I’m brought to the medic tent to have my wound checked out. Thankfully, the bullet didn’t lodge in my arm so I’m cleaned up and stitched in next to no time. They release me a short while later, my arm encased in a sling. No medi-scans out here so I’ll have to suffer it old-style. The doctor could only give me a low-grade painkiller as he didn’t want to interfere with my other meds, so my arm still throbs but I grit my teeth and take it li
ke a man.
I swing by the Command tent on my way home. Commander De Luca and I get into it straightaway. “This is a goddamned suicide mission!” I holler, anger getting the better of me. “We are getting slaughtered out there! How do they know where we are going to be all the time? I thought we wiped out the monitoring drones?”
“Calm down, Soldier Remus.” The CO pins me with a serious look. “Sit.” He pushes me gently into a chair. “I understand your frustration and I share it. I’ve also posed the same questions to HQ. Something isn’t right,” he admits, after a brief hesitation.
“So what are they going to do about it?” A sharp pain whips up and down my arm and I wince.
His look softens. “Calista has called an emergency meeting to discuss what’s happening out in the field. We sit tight until I receive an update. In the meantime, I suggest you get some rest. You look like you could use it.”
I place a phone call to Dad after I leave the Command tent. But he’s in a meeting and can’t be disturbed. I know Commander De Luca will be pissed if he finds out I’m involving him, but something has to be done to stop this needless blood bath. Pursuing this course of action will be the death of all of us.
There has to be a better way.
I plop down on my bed and moan loudly. Damn, this hurts like a bitch.
Shifting uncomfortably on my uninjured side, I’m desperately trying to get some much-needed shuteye, but as usual, my brain refuses to cooperate. I could’ve died out there today. It was a real close call. All I can think is how Ariana would never have known the truth of my feelings—that I didn’t mean anything I said to her that last time, I love her and our baby, and they both mean the whole world to me.
My decision is made. Irrespective of whether they have a replacement for me or not, I’m leaving tomorrow to find her. I need to know that she’s okay, and sitting around twiddling my thumbs is driving me up the walls.
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