Atlas (Apocalyptic Cries Book 1)

by Adalie Jordin

  Taking a moment to absorb his verbal vomit, I realize I only have one question that’s eating at me for the moment. Don’t mistake me, there are a shit-ton of others that are more pressing, but those aren’t what come out when I open my mouth to respond. “Does he know you’re his son?”

  “No.” One word, harsh and brief. Luca’s shaking his head so quickly, I’m surprised it doesn’t rattle right off his shoulders.

  “Why not?” His answer is important to me, though I don’t want to admit it.

  “Initially, I didn’t come out and say ‘Hey, Dad, I’m your long-lost bastard son!’ because I wanted him to get to know me for the person I am before skewing his view of me by revealing my mother’s deception.” He’s not making eye contact as he speaks now, and I find myself wanting to see the emotions flitting through his ocean gaze. Like maybe I’ll get a peek into his soul.

  “Then later… I just…. He’s not the man I dreamed up, and I can’t stand the reality that I share his blood.”

  Boom. That’s a bomb right there.

  Swirling the knife between agile fingers, I’m careful not to cut myself. It’s a distracting motion. One I’m using to keep me from leaping across the room and consoling the son of a monster for all he’s been through.

  “Why are you telling me this now, Luca?” His reply is pivotal to my next steps. I know Cade has to be wondering what’s keeping me at this point. I don’t think it’d be wise to let him find me locked in a closet with Luca.

  Cade’s become…. Protective of me, to say the least.

  “Because I did something I wasn’t supposed to and found out information that involves you, and I can’t — no, I won’t — allow him to hurt someone else I care about.” His words are fevered, heartfelt in a way he hasn’t spoken to me since that day in the observatory.

  I want to believe him… I do.

  “What exactly did you do that got you beat to shit?” I’m prying, but I don’t give a rat’s ass at this point. He’s been lying by omission for months. Shunning me. Sparking feelings I dreaded, yet couldn’t wait to explore. Then when I asked for some time, he shut it all down.

  Not a word, not a glance, not even a note slipped under my door.

  I feel for his plight. If what he says is true, and Nyler somehow is about to pull me into his web of mayhem, I’ll fucking go willingly. What better way to gain access to Atlas?

  “I overheard one of Robert’s scientists talking about you a few days ago. I’m not sure why you’re even on their radar, especially since I did my best to pretend you didn’t exist so they wouldn’t see us together.”

  “Okay… and? That’s it? You heard a conversation you weren’t supposed to, so they threw punches?” My skepticism is evident, and I know he hears it.

  “I may have broken in to the head scientist’s office and stolen confidential files of potential….” He stops, studying me closely. “Other than my being Robert’s son, you don’t appear shocked by any of this. Is there something you want to tell me, New Girl?”

  His use of the nickname doesn’t get to me this time, and I allow a blank mask to fall. “No, Luca, there really isn’t.” Getting back to the point, because I really need to get out of here, I press, “What did the files say?”

  Luca gives me a dubious look, but answers anyway. “I can’t disclose everything to you, that would be bloody dumb of me, especially if they manage to get their hands on you. But I will say you’re on a list you definitely do not want to be on, and if you don’t leave The Compound your life is at risk.”

  He watches me for a hint of fear, I give him nothing.

  “Thank you for the warning, Luca. I’ll keep that in mind.” I turn to leave, quickly stashing my blade. His lack of observance of it either speaks very highly to my abilities of stealth, or very poorly of his survival instincts. “Might want to ask your friends in the caf. for some ice. You’re starting to swell.”

  CHAPTER 14

  I burst through the door without knocking, earning myself the barrel of a gun pointed directly center mass. I don’t flinch, but Cade does.

  “What the fuck, Saedie!!” He’s breathing hard, gun arm dropping to his side. “I could have shot you.”

  Giving him a moment to calm down, I wait, catching my own breath from the run over. I hadn’t even bothered to stop and get the food I’d gone for. No way was I risking running into Luca in the cafeteria when he went to get that ice.

  “You’ll never guess the conversation I just had…”

  He waits, offering me a glare for startling him.

  “Luca is Nyler’s son. Like, blood related, full blown child of Satan himself.”

  Other than a minuscule narrowing of his gorgeous eyes at my name calling, he gives off nothing.

  “It’s fucked up, right?” I’m trying for some kind of reaction here; this is big news!

  “Saedie, my team and I are fully aware Luca Duncan’s family tree. We’d be remiss in our jobs if we weren’t.”

  Stunned would be too simple of a word to describe how I feel at his revelation. I’m entirely floored.

  I’m more shocked by what Cade is saying than the fact Luca’s related to the devil.

  Shuffling past him, I take a seat on his beat-up couch. In these last few weeks spent working together, I’ve come to trust Cade in a way I’ve never trusted anyone else. He’s become my rock without my say so. To find out he’s been withholding vital information is a blow to my heart…. I’d let him in deeper than I realized, and even though I understand his job is better done with all the facts, I’m hurt he never cared to share this particular detail with me.

  I try and force my emotions down and recognize it likely wasn’t meant as an insult. But still.

  Catching movement out of the corner of my eye, I peer up through my hair as Cade lowers his large frame onto the floor in front of me. Taking one of my hands in his, he lifts my chin so our gazes are level, his glittering green eyes staring straight into my hazel ones.

  “Saedie, please don’t look so betrayed.” He’s saddened by my reaction to his words and trying not to show it, but I see. “I didn’t believe it to be pertinent information after the two of you had your falling out. I didn’t want to see the pain and confusion in your eyes by bringing him up.” He pauses, taking a deep breath that fans out across my face as he releases it. “I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

  So sweet, his gravelly tone is soft and meant to reassure.

  I find myself staring at the mint-tinged flecks of green glittering in his eyes for a few moments, lost in thought.

  My emotions are more erratic than I’d been willing to admit up until this moment, and it’s time I take control of that. Losing Dad blew my world apart, and I’ve been going through the motions of life without truly allowing myself to feel in the last several months.

  I’ve shut down anything that arose, minus a few scattered feelings so strong they were beyond controlling.

  I’m done. I need to allow myself to trust someone or I’m going to end up old, jaded, and alone.

  “Okay.” It’s just one word, but it draws his attention like a moth to the flame. “I believe you.” I confide, maybe too easily, but life is short. “Please, don’t keep things from me from here on out. We’re a team, a partnership if you will, and I need to know what you know for this to work.”

  Leaning forward, he places a gentle kiss on my cheek. The scruff of his beard tickles my chin as he pulls back and stands up, keeping hold of my hand and making me have to lean forward a bit so as not to break the warm contact. “You have my word, Saedie.”

  His words are greeted with an emotionally tired smile as I stare up at him, head tilted back so far it nearly brushes the couch cushions. “Thank you.”

  “Anything for you.” Is mumbled back at me under his breath, so faint I almost don’t catch it as he releases my hand and puts some distance between us. My big burly man is getting sentimental on me and I don’t know what to do about it. So I ignore his words and let him think they’re
his alone. For now.

  Wait, did I just think of him as mine? Yup. Too late — accept it and move on.

  Deciding to change the subject - lighten the mood - I throw my hands up in a ‘listen to this shit’ manner, groaning as my stomach lets out a long, low growl. “I didn’t manage to get us snacks.”

  “Don’t worry about it, I’ll stop by tonight after dinner and restock. They don’t ration very well; they won’t even notice anything’s gone.”

  I wouldn’t know one way or the other. I try my best to avoid the cooks — they’re too gossipy and in everyone’s business for my taste.

  Ha. Taste. Because they cook. No? Okay.

  I ask him if he’s been able to work out any more details for our break in of Nyler’s base, then proceed to fill him in on what Luca said about me being on some list. I want to get his take on whether or not he thinks it could prove to our advantage.

  He’s upset by the news, expectedly, but he agrees that we should wait on our plan until we’re able to learn more.

  I find myself hoping this ‘list’ I’m on isn’t the same one as Gladys and the rest of the subjects Nyler’s experimented on, but if I am…. I need to figure out why. And make sure Jeremy isn’t there as well.

  I haven’t been able to visit him as much as I’d like to recently. Because of all the break in organizing, but also, The Incubator somehow talked Nurse Nance into altering our visits with each other. I’d say she used her relationship with Nyler as pull, but I don’t know why she would. It’s not like she’s going to see Jeremy herself. She’s too caught up in the whirl and twirl of her new life.

  Now, because of her, Jer isn’t permitted to leave the infirmary with me to go on rounds or anything else.

  Bitch.

  The couple of times I have managed to head his way, he’s been occupied enough by his little friend and their games that he hasn’t seemed too bothered, so at least there’s that.

  I’m sad to admit it, but I haven’t even thought about my little sister in all this time. You can’t miss someone you don’t know, right?

  When I told Cade how my mother has been since Dad’s passing, he was appalled. He wanted to storm her apartment and tell her off for being a cunt, but I wouldn’t let him. Do I want to talk everything out and learn her motivations? Yes. Most definitely. But right now, it just isn’t worth it to me.

  If everything we’re doing turns out for the better, soon I’ll have enough evidence against Nyler and his cohorts to convince her to get Jer and Ainsley far away from him. I hope anyway. I could take her what I have now, yes… but that would be showing my hand too soon.

  Regardless, either he’s really good at acting like he cares, she doesn’t care what he acts like as long as he showers her in attention, or they are genuinely made for each other in their asshole-ness. Only time will reveal the answer, I suppose.

  “Saedie.” Cade calls, not for the first time.

  “Huh, yeah, what’s up?” He’s standing in his bedroom doorway, clean change of clothes in hand.

  “I said I need to shower before doing some reconnaissance tonight. You mind?”

  Do I mind if he showers, or do I mind leaving while he does it?

  “Uhhh, sure I can go.” I hedge, standing up from the couch.

  “No.” He barks, his face immediately turning sheepish at the word. “I just mean to say, you don’t have to leave. I won’t be long, if you want to wait for me? I’ll bring dinner back?”

  My stomach rumbles again at the option of food, and I don’t even pretend to say no. I just plop right back down where I was, reaching over the side of the couch to pick up a worn romance novel I’d left here a few days ago.

  “Sure, sure. I’ll just read while you’re out. I’ve been meaning to get back into the story for a while anyway.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  Clenching the clothes in his large hand, I almost laugh at his white knuckled grip. He really doesn’t want me to leave. You don’t see me complaining. He strolls past me on his way to the door, and I can smell his cedar and smoke aroma wafting through the air behind him — I have to stop myself from moaning in response like an idiot.

  How does he smell so good when I wake up reeking like old gym shorts on most shower days?

  “Lock up.” Cade orders, no room for argument.

  “Aye aye, Boss Man!” Saluting sarcastically, I quickly drop my eyes to the pages of the book, hiding my smirk. Cade huffs and leaves the room quickly.

  What? Being bossed around is hot sometimes, in the right context. Especially when it’s hulk-man Cade calling the shots.

  ◆◆◆

  I generally have more self-control, but I find that I can’t concentrate on the book enough to finish a single page. I’ve read the same paragraph twice over, and I’m still none the wiser to what it’s saying.

  I’ve never been alone in Cade’s apartment before. Usually I wouldn’t pry, but I find I have an urgent need to know more about the man I’ve come to call a close friend.

  Checking to make sure the door’s secure, I place an empty water bottle in front of it to alert me in case anyone comes in. Lame, but effective.

  I’ve been around every inch of the living-dining-kitchenette combo area in the last few weeks, but I’ve never stepped foot into his bedroom. I make a beeline for it now. He doesn’t have the luxury of two bedrooms like our family did, but then again, he doesn’t need them anyway.

  Crossing the threshold feels monumental to me, and I chuckle at the level of maturity that reveals. It’s just a room.

  At first, I’m disappointed by what I find…. A whole lot of nothing special. He has a single bed, pressed up against the far wall across from the door. A dresser graces the space to my right, and the only thing taking up the left wall is a nondescript closet door.

  After ducking to check under the bed for goodies — and finding none — I quietly open each one of his drawers.

  An invasion of privacy? Maybe. But I’m curious, and you know what they say about mixing that particular adjective and cats. I doubt I’ll die from my explorations though.

  The top left drawer is full of neatly rolled underwear and socks. The next one is much the same style of military precision, but with shirts instead. One additional drawer has organized pants and shorts, but the other three I find empty.

  It’s a bit shocking how many decent clothes he has on hand. They all look like they’re well taken care of, and not ratty like my own.

  Maybe he had an emergency bag of essentials lying about when ODR struck, like most men of his profession would? Makes sense.

  Leaving the boringness of the dresser behind, I take two quick steps to the closet door, swinging it open on creaky hinges. The minuscule space doesn’t have a working light bulb, so I leave the door open wide for a better view. Initially I think it’s another bust, just some empty duffel bags and a spare pair of boots. But then I notice one of the bags has a harder edge to it than a regular fabric bag should have, spread out like it is.

  Dropping to my knees in the tiny room, I shuffle over to the bag and feel along the top of it.

  There’s definitely something underneath.

  Waiting a beat to see if I hear movement from the other room, I lift it up with one hand, feeling around in the dark with the other until my fingers glance across a metal surface. Creeping around the edge of it, I locate the back and pull the object forward into my line of sight.

  It’s a worn rectangular ammo box, with the front tightly latched. And it’s fucking heavy.

  I’d be better off leaving him to his secrets.

  I almost put it back. What am I even doing, messing around in someone else’s things like this?

  I go to shove it under the duffel once more, when a metallic ‘clang’ sounds from within and I stop. Maybe it’s exactly what it looks like? Just ammo stored in a closet for safe keeping.

  But my gut tells me this box is more than that. Making the split decision, and hoping I don’t regret it lat
er, I lean down over it and pry open the locking mechanism, shifting my body to the side to allow light to stream into the hollow space.

  The first thing my eyes catch on is a handgun. Not a surprise, really. The second is a roll of what appears to be old film. It’s the third item, or items rather, that prove more interesting.

  Nestled at the bottom of the box is a stack of what I’d hazard to say are pictures, wrapped in a piece of blank paper that’s been folded in half to shield them.

  Lifting them out, pushing the paper to the side, I stare down at the images in stunned silence.

  At the top of the stack is a picture of a younger Cade, his arm wrapped around a pretty girl in a cheerleader uniform that matches the football jersey fitted to his sleek frame. She’s kissing his dimpled cheek, and he has the sweetest, biggest, grin on his face I’ve ever seen.

  The happiness exuding from this one picture astounds me.

  I’ve never seen Cade smile that way, and now I find it’s all I want in this moment.

  Flipping through to the next, it’s not much different. Same girl with Cade, them wrapped around each other. Only this time, she’s wearing a swimsuit and they’re on a beach somewhere. My mouth waters at the view of Cade that’s on display, all broad chest and defined muscles, even at the clearly younger age. I’d say he’s about twenty-two or twenty-three in them — post-military.

  Moving on, I come upon a group photo of Cade - in his late teens - surrounded by men in uniform. They all have stern expressions on their faces, like they’ve made a bet not to grin or something. Cade is front and center, hands clasped behind his back in parade rest as a few friendly guys around him sling their arms across his broad shoulders.