“Chase,” Jasper grunted. “I knew you’d come ba—”
Chase silenced the bad-guy shit talk by straddling Jasper and wrapping his hands around his thick neck. It bulged against his fingers, straining, but Chase squeezed as hard as he could. He was immediately assaulted with another mental attack. The pain from Jasper trying to pull at his mind was stunning.
Eyes watering and harsh pants ripping out of his mouth, Chase squeezed harder. He was going to lose his grip in seconds, he knew it. It was impossible to focus when someone was tearing away chunks of his brain.
Chase released a shout of frustration and agony, of desperation, and then the strangest thing happened. All the power emanating from Jasper stopped, and the mental assault abruptly ended.
“Elise—” Jasper gasped. “No—”
Chase gave up on his effort to strangle the asshole, and slammed Jasper’s head against the floor. The sound was sickening, but he did it three more times until Jasper went limp beneath him. Chase rolled off him, gasping for breath, and watched as the girl rushed to his side.
“Rook?” she asked, hesitant and frightened.
“No.” Chase struggled to get up, but he could barely see through the residual threads of pain still pounding in his head. “But I know him.”
A sound filled the room, like a sob, but Elise sucked it in. “We have to go,” she whispered urgently. “Even if you killed him—”
“I don’t think he’s dead, but we do need to get ghost before someone finds us.” Chase staggered to the door, gripping her arm and tugging her along. “My friends are releasing everyone else, and people will be on high alert soon.”
I’m free?
The question was Elise’s own internal scared-to-believe thought, so Chase ignored it and led her into the hallway, tugging the goggles back up. He was still breathing hard, still trying to collect himself, as he asked, “What did you do to Jasper?”
“They call it silencing,” Elise said. “I can . . . temporarily silence or mute someone’s gift.”
Chase had never heard of it, but there was no time for shock or awe. “Can you use it at will?” Through his goggles, he saw her nod. “Good.”
When she clutched his hand, he let her. If she yanked away after seeing his white hair, tattoos, and grim face—that was on her.
He tried to broadcast a mental message to the others, but searing pain scorched through him with the attempt. With no way to tell if it had worked, or if he’d somehow lost his telepathy in the fight with Jasper, he practically dragged Elise down the flights of stairs to the circular entrance of the silo.
Lightning crashed as they descended the last few steps, illuminating a scene he had dreaded but not prepared for. Elijah pinned to the floor by Will as they fought wildly. All it took was the sight of Will rearing back one fist to slam into Elijah’s face for the pressure to consume Chase. It combined with the pain from Jasper’s assault, an indescribable branding sensation that led to him throwing back his head in a tortured scream.
Everything faded but his anger, his fear for Elijah, and all his psychic bits realigning to protect Elijah in the only way his brain knew how—complete and utter destruction.
The ground beneath his feet shook, and a wrenching sound rivaled the rush of rain and boom of thunder outside, but Chase couldn’t bring himself out of it. He couldn’t walk, couldn’t speak, and couldn’t see anything but Elijah being hurt. It wasn’t until strong hands yanked him forward, closely followed by him colliding with the cold hard ground, that the pain ceased.
Darkness swallowed him. It was just him and a great expanse of nothing so silent that for the first time in a long time he felt . . . at peace. Nothing could touch him in this dark empty cloud. No one could hurt him. His brain wouldn’t wrench violently in an attempt to bend the physical world to its will.
But there was also no Elijah in this blank space. Chase was alone.
He opened his eyes, gasping for breath, and found himself staring into another stretch of darkness. It wasn’t until lightning struck in the distance did he realize he was looking up at the sky with rain pounding against him.
He tried to stand, but his head swam and a different kind of ache throbbed in his temples. When he reached up to touch his head with a shaking hand, he felt the warm wetness of blood and tasted iron in his mouth.
“Wha—” his voice came out strained. “Elijah?”
There was no answer. Panic galloped through him, propelling him upward despite his swimming vision. He pushed through it, but he could barely remain upright. His legs were wobbly, and his vision blurry. When he did finally manage to stand for longer than a few seconds, the ground trembled yet again, and a series of booms echoed throughout the night.
Chase snapped his gaze up to the silo. He froze.
It looked like someone had slammed a giant hammer down onto the metal roof. The dome had crushed inward, causing the entire structure to buckle to the ground.
“Fuck,” he whispered, staring at the destruction. “It can’t be . . .”
“It can and it is.”
Chase spun around, but dizziness overcame him. He staggered, swinging out a hand to hold on to nothing, and crashed to his knees just as Richard came closer. He looked up, breathing hard, to find Richard looming over him in the rain. Elijah and Elise were nowhere to be seen.
“I knew I’d bet on the wrong horse.” Richard jerked the night vision goggles off Chase’s face. The sky had lightened slightly, and Chase could see Richard staring down at him without emotion. “I just didn’t realize how much power I’d ignored for so long.”
Chase sucked in a deep breath, attempting to gather the power needed to get up, to face Richard, and to find Elijah. Was he in the rubble with Will and Jasper? He couldn’t be. Someone had grabbed Chase . . . Maybe he’d taken Elise and run. God, Chase fucking hoped so.
“So, you turned on me too.” Richard’s voice interrupted Chase’s frantic thinking. “Just like the others.”
If there was ever a time to be defiant and brash it was now, but Chase couldn’t. He could do nothing but struggle time and time again to stand. After a while, he collapsed, panting.
“You can’t turn on someone if you weren’t ever on their side,” he rasped. “I did what I had to so everyone who wanted to go could get the fuck out of this nightmare.”
Richard’s hand twitched, and for the first time Chase realized he was holding a gun. It was muted by the darkness, but still shone.
“Nightmare,” he repeated. “You just took out an entire building with your gift. Who is the nightmare?”
“If I have to become one to end your torture chamber, I’ll fucking do it.”
Richard exhaled loudly. “It didn’t have to end like this. You should have been by my side the entire time. You still can be.”
“Are you kidding me? I killed your head scientist. I killed Will, just like his sister and the guards.”
“They don’t matter,” Richard hissed. “Their power was nothing compared to yours.”
Of course it came down to the power. Not even the shared blood flowing in their veins, their connection as father and son. It was all about Chase’s psychic abilities, and what those abilities could do for Richard.
“Fuck you, Dick,” he said with a bloody smile. “You might as well blow my brains out now, because I’ll never stop trying to end you.”
Richard’s expression hardened. He lifted the gun, and a gasp sounded behind him, punctuated by the distant rumbling of thunder and the creaking of yet another piece of the silo falling to the ground.
Chase closed his eyes, waiting, but a body collided with his own just as a gunshot rang out. He knew without opening his eyes that it was Elijah who had slammed into him. Horror swarmed Chase, and he felt that awful pressure rising again, but Elijah was still breathing. He dug his fingers into Elijah’s shoulders, drawing him into a tight hug. The pressure receded until nothing was left but the sweet ease of relief.
“You fucking idiot,” Chase
whispered.
Elijah released a sound that was half sob, half laugh. “I’m sorry, but I love you. I didn’t even think. I dragged the girl into the woods to hide, and came back, and—”
Chase crushed Elijah to his chest, squeezing him as the rain started to come down harder. Once the feel of Elijah whole and safe was imprinted on him, Chase allowed himself to look up.
Through the rain, he saw Richard lying on his face not moving. Behind him, Lorelei stood, drenched with her long platinum hair pasted to her face, holding a pistol. She was shaking so badly that her knees gave out, but Nate caught her. Trent rushed to his side with Shelby, who immediately knelt on the muddy ground.
Nearby, Holden and Six stood looking at Richard’s body as if waiting for him to rise, but he was motionless in the pouring rain.
Chase expected to feel something, but he didn’t. Only a distant sense of wonder about whether it was all over. Judging from the guards moving in, and the other staff members that had gathered around the remains of the silo in the last few moments, it probably wasn’t.
Two of the guards had made a move toward Lorelei and Shelby, but Shelby grabbed the pistol and aimed it at them.
“Whatever orders you had from Richard Payne are finished. He used his talent, and the talent of others, to manipulate people into coming here before drugging them into submission.” Shelby’s voice was clear and strong in the darkness, not once wavering. “That was my role here as well as your counselors. To keep you all compliant and helpless.” She looked around before going on. “The board wants this place shut down, so go along with the program, or I have no problem defending myself and the people around me.”
Nobody else moved.
Shelby glanced at Chase, back at the silo, then back again. “Your move, Chase.”
Chase couldn’t even comprehend why that would be.
“Let’s just get the fuck out of here.”
They didn’t get to leave.
Jessica and Lia waited off the property in the rain until receiving a signal to move in. At that point, Six went into cleanup mode and corralled all the remaining guards and staff into the cottage.
Everyone who’d already willingly fled the Farm had returned until the storm ended, including Elise. When she pleaded to speak to her brother, Elijah helped her get in touch with Rook using the number he’d given them on the truck ride that now felt like ages ago.
Shelby directed the rest of the operation. She gathered everyone in the guesthouse, from kids, to parents who’d agreed to participate in the program, to the individuals who’d been held against their will, and she and Jessica told them to choose their own paths. Some wanted to return to their homes or call their family, but others—the die-hard Comm members who seemed shaken and confused—asked to go to Community Watch. Then there were others, the ones who’d experienced the most trauma, who asked to stay at the Farm for now. With Shelby.
She handpicked a couple of staff members to drive people either to the CW or their homes if possible, and agreed to stay on the Farm until permanent arrangements were made. Lia and Jessica immediately offered to do the same after dealing with the board.
It seemed that Shelby had been planting the seeds for this rebellion for a while. Everyone who jumped to attention and asked for directions looked to her with each question. She then turned to Lia, Jessica, and Chase. There was a clear chain of command, but Chase had no idea why he was in it. In his opinion, Shelby was the one running this ship, and her deciding to stay at the Farm with people who needed recovery time was awesome.
After she examined him, she determined his brain wasn’t going to leak out of his ears from psychic overexertion, but he’d severely concussed himself by blowing up the silo. He consoled himself with the knowledge that he’d eventually recover, then holed up in a bedroom in the cottage with Elijah curled up to him. Chase had wanted to join the rank-and-file in the vans and get the fuck away from the Farm, but he didn’t voice that desire. How could he when everyone else was working to figure out what to do with the remaining pieces of this fucked-up puzzle? Lorelei, after all she’d been through, was currently arguing with Nate about her desire to stay with the kids and other mothers until a solid plan was put in place for their transition.
“We should go help.”
Chase glanced down at Elijah. His hair was still soaked, although he’d found some of the white sweats to change into. Besides a large scrape on the side of his face, he was unscathed.
“We just infiltrated this place and risked our lives. We’ve helped enough.”
Elijah looked up at him. “Don’t try to act like the hero gene doesn’t run in your family.”
“Excuse me?” Chase didn’t know whether to laugh hysterically or call Elijah delusional. “Like, the incestuous family or the sociopathic family?”
Elijah’s serious face was thwarted by his mouth twitching at the side. “Well, firstly, the entire Payne fam isn’t sociopathic. Just Richard. Holden and Jessica are pretty great. Same for Nate and Lorelei, who is also from the incest family.” Elijah stared him down as if daring him to disagree. “Also, don’t try to downplay your heroics, cockhead. You came here with the intent of freeing the psy folk they’d been holding against their will, and then fought a psychic vampire to save Rook’s sister. She told me.”
Chase glanced at the window, as if he’d be able to see her, but there was nothing in his line of sight except trees and the blank space where the silo’s roof should have been. “Is she okay?”
“Traumatized, but yes.”
“Is she going home?”
Elijah hesitated and chewed on the corner of his mouth. “Yes . . . Rook is coming for her, but she’s almost afraid to face him. I have no idea why. I asked if she wanted to go to the CW, but she said no.”
Chase nodded slowly. “All right, well, do you think the others going to the CW is a good plan? I mean, it ain’t exactly a bad place, right? That’s why we wanted to try to keep it around.”
“Right.”
Chase looked at Elijah sidelong. “Do you know something I don’t know? Why are you acting weird about the CW now?”
Elijah looked down at the scratchy bed cover, gnawed on his lip some more, and then sat up straight. “So, I had this vision.”
“Oh fuck. Great.”
Chase started to roll out of bed, ready for a fight, but Elijah grabbed his arm.
“Wait, it’s not a death vision. Okay? It’s just . . .” His fingers tightened on Chase. “It was about Kyger and Hale. In the vision, they’d lied about letting new people on the board. They’d used us to clean up this mess they were too afraid to touch, and then let the Community go back to the status quo.”
“So nobody dies,” Chase repeated.
“Right.”
“The Community just remains a fucking breeding ground for power-hungry psychos who prey on the vulnerable.”
Elijah cringed, dropping his eyes as if it was his fault for sharing the news. “More or less. It’s not like . . . this will still be happening. The Farm is done. Jasper is gone. Richard is gone. Will . . . gone.” He peeked at Chase, waiting for a reaction to that before going on. “But ultimately, the board stays the same.”
“That’s all you saw?”
“Yeah.” Elijah sighed and crumbled the comforter in his fingers. He scrunched it up and released it, performing the motion repeatedly. “I guess the big question is whether we can live with that.”
Could they? Could Chase?
The Farm was gone and the people who’d run it, but Kyger and Hale weren’t exactly babes in the woods. They’d closed their eyes to the sickness spreading in the community, handed over “problem” psys to Richard to do whatever he did, allowed Jessica to go missing without asking a question, and had ultimately been too cowardly to enact any change.
The disappearances would stop, and the threat in the woods would be gone, but how long until another one appeared? The whole culture of silence and fear was what had allowed all of this to go on for so l
ong.
“No,” Chase said finally. “I can’t live with that.”
“I didn’t think so.”
Elijah pulled him back onto the bed, hands on his shoulders and fingers kneading Chase’s tense muscles. It felt so good that Chase eased against the headboard with Elijah still straddling him, and enjoyed the feeling of . . . being taken care of. Of a warm body close to his, the comforting scent of Elijah’s hair brushing his cheek, and the sight of genuine concern in that lovely face.
“Hey.”
Elijah glanced up at him. “What?”
“If you ever put yourself in danger for me again, I’ll kill you.”
The room filled with Elijah’s laughter. It was alien and unlikely given the nightmare waiting just outside, but it unwound the knot sitting in the middle of Chase’s chest.
The first time he’d met Elijah, Chase had heard his laugh before seeing his face. Even then, at the height of Chase’s resentment, he’d reacted to it. After being brought up in a world of manipulation and control, hearing something so carefree and genuinely happy had moved the stone that had sat unbeating in his chest for so long.
Chase yanked Elijah against him, gripping him tight, and released a shuddery sigh. “I’m sorry I doubted you. I’m an idiot.”
“Yeah,” Elijah agreed. “That you’re surprised I’d take a bullet for you proves it.”
Chase squeezed harder, probably cutting off Elijah’s ability to breathe. “Can we please leave? Just me and you?”
“Where though?”
“California.” It was out of Chase’s mouth before he could stop it, but it had been in his head for a while. His wary, defensive little brother had unwound so much after his brief time across the country that it made Chase want to follow that same pathway. “It seemed to work out for Nate.”
“That could have also been him being away from his shitty family and the town he grew up in,” Elijah said. “Or being with Trent.”
“But I’ll be with you.” Chase licked his lips, suddenly nervous and a little desperate. “Right? You’ll go with me?”
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