Declan was struck by Rowan’s words. He knew he was right. He and Bree were happy and things were good between them. Despite the war looming over them, they’d managed to find real happiness together. He thought back to his life before he’d met her and realized how lonely it had been. He’d had friends and he hadn’t been unhappy, exactly. But he couldn’t deny that meeting her had changed everything. Regardless of the dangerous nature of this new world, he knew he needed to take the time to enjoy the good things that came with it. “Thanks, Rowan,” he said and meant it.
Rowan gave him a sad smile. “Take it from me, man,” he said. “You don’t want to be on the other side looking back and wishing you had it to do over.” Declan didn’t know what to say as Rowan speared him with a look of such intensity that he felt slightly uncomfortable. After a moment, Rowan looked away and turned his attention back to his food.
As they finished eating, Rowan seemed to remember their earlier conversation. “You said you came to see me for a reason,” he said. “What was it?”
Declan considered whether he still wanted to learn to mimic Rowan’s ability after everything he’d learned this morning. It seemed a weighty responsibility. So much rested on Rowan’s shoulders during every mission and Declan couldn’t imagine the stress involved. Still, he imagined that Rowan could use someone to help share the responsibility. Two people with such capabilities had to be more effective than one. That was, if Declan could learn to control it at all. He looked back to Rowan.
“I’d like you to teach me to do what you can do,” he said. “I want to help. If I can, I mean.”
Rowan’s confused expression lasted for only a second before switching to surprise. “Really? After hearing all that, you still want to volunteer for it?” He shook his head. “Are you a fan of migraines and crippling nausea?”
Declan shook his head. “No,” he said. He leaned forward. “But think about it. Having someone else here who can do what you can could only help. It could take some of the stress off you. I know you’re used to it by now, but it can’t be easy.” When Rowan remained silent, Declan said, “Look, there’s no guarantee I’ll even be able to master it. But what’s the point to being able to mimic abilities if I can’t be useful?”
Rowan looked at Declan for another long moment before he sighed. “All right,” he said. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He stood and picked up the remnants of his meal. “Come on. We’ll go back to my office.” Declan stood, following Rowan as he walked toward the exit.
Rowan shook his head at Declan as they walked. “You’re probably going to regret this later,” he said with a laugh.
Declan grinned. “Maybe,” he acknowledged. “But I have to try, right?” He punched Rowan lightly on the shoulder as they left the dining hall. “Who knows, maybe the student will surpass the master?” He dodged as Rowan moved to return the punch.
“In your dreams, Thomas,” Rowan said with a laugh. The two of them took turns trying to land playful jabs on one another. They spilled out into the large corridor and circled one another, still smiling. Rowan swung out with his right hand and Declan danced out of his reach, taunting him. Rowan advanced on him and Declan laughed as he ducked and sidestepped. As he was about to make a move to trip Rowan, he was brought up short by the look on his face. He was looking beyond Declan, down the hall, his expression curious. Declan turned and followed his gaze. His smile widened when he saw that Bree was walking his way, Lydia beside her. He raised a hand and was about to call out to them when he realized they weren’t walking. They were just standing still in the middle of the hallway, both looking back over their shoulders. His brow drew down in confusion. What were they doing?
Bree turned her head to look at Lydia and it took her a moment to understand what she was seeing. The barrel of a gun was pointed at Lydia’s head. That was alarming in itself, but it wasn’t what held her gaze. Bree could see the light glinting off the dark metal of the barrel. It was so clearly a gun. And yet. Where was the rest of it? She could see only a few inches of the weapon. Everything beyond the barrel was missing. She didn’t understand. The gun—what she could see of it—seemed to be suspended in midair, aimed directly at Lydia’s head. She stared, dumbfounded, trying to make sense of the scene before her. She was frozen in place by the sight of the gun and the voice she’d heard. Moving only her eyes, she tried to look around for the owner of the voice, but saw no one. She looked back to Lydia, meeting her eyes.
She looked just as confused as Bree felt. Bree raised one eyebrow a fraction of an inch and directed her eyes back down the hallway in the direction of the cafeteria. She didn’t know if Lydia would understand what she was trying to say but then the other woman gave a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. Bree gritted her teeth. Of course, Lydia would argue. She wouldn’t teleport away, leaving Bree alone to face whatever this was. Bree turned her attention back to the floating gun.
“Who are you?” she asked to the empty air behind them. “What do you want?”
The gun moved. It now pointed at Bree’s head rather than Lydia’s. “Be quiet,” she heard the woman’s voice speak again.
Bree’s heart was racing in her chest and she swallowed hard against the lump rising in her throat. She nodded at the gun and raised her hands. She was still holding her empty coffee mug in one hand. The dark gleaming metal of the gun held Bree’s attention as nothing had before. She was afraid to move or even blink. Then, something happened that caused both women to gasp and take an involuntary step backward.
The gun was no longer floating before them. In the space of a heartbeat, a woman had appeared in the hallway. One moment there was half a gun seemingly floating in midair and the next, there was a woman standing there, facing them. She held the gun steady and her eyes were focused on the two of them. Although Bree had just watched it happen, it took her brain a moment to understand. The woman had been invisible and she’d just appeared. How long had she been following them? Who was she? Why was she here? A dozen questions flooded through Bree’s mind and she longed to ask all of them but the most important question had already been answered. This woman clearly wanted to do them harm. She was an enemy.
The sudden sound of Lydia’s gasp had Bree turning to look her way. She’d gone pale and her mouth was open in shock, eyes wide. “Stella?” Lydia’s shocked whisper seemed abnormally loud in the silent hallway.
Bree felt as though her brain was operating in slow motion because it took her a moment to place the name with her memories. Stella. Gwynn’s daughter. Sawyer’s best friend. Rowan’s girlfriend. Her mind flashed with snippets of conversations, a framed photo in Sawyer’s living room, the sadness that never seemed to leave Gwynn’s eyes, Rowan’s face every time he heard her name. This was Stella. The same Stella who’d been killed several months before. How? All of this flashed through Bree’s mind in a few seconds and she brought herself back to the present. She studied the woman standing before them, pointing a gun at her head.
She was tall, like her mother. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. It was darker than Gwynn’s fiery red locks but Bree could easily see the resemblance between the two. They both had the same hazel eyes and high cheekbones. She thought back to the image of the smiling woman from Sawyer’s photo and wondered what had happened to her. There was no hint of softness or joy in her face now. In fact, her expression was completely devoid of emotion. Her eyes held no hint of recognition as she looked at Lydia who was still wearing an expression of shock on her own face.
“Stella?” Bree said in a calm voice. “My name is Bree.”
Stella’s eyes moved from Lydia’s face to Bree’s. The gun never wavered as the three of them stood frozen in the hallway. Bree found her gaze drawn to the perfectly round hole in the barrel that could so easily deliver a deadly bullet if Stella wished. Her heart was pounding in her ears and she tried to focus on the woman holding it instead.
“Why are you here?” Bree asked. She didn’t know what she hoped to accomplish by talking
to her. She didn’t know Stella and she had no idea why the woman would be pointing a gun at anyone in this compound. She’d grown up here. This was her home and these people were her family. Where had she been all this time? If she hadn’t been killed during her last mission, why hadn’t she returned sooner? There were so many questions that needed answers but first, Bree needed to find a way to convince Stella to lower the gun.
“Stella,” Lydia said. “We all thought you were dead. It’s so good to see you alive.”
Bree could hear the genuine happiness in Lydia’s voice, but it seemed to have no effect on Stella. Lydia’s words only served to draw Stella’s attention—and the gun—back to her. Bree took a breath and was about to speak again when she saw Stella’s eyes dart up to look at something behind them. Bree didn’t dare turn to see what it was, but she watched as a bit of emotion seemed to soften Stella’s face for the first time. There was a hint of confused recognition in her eyes. Then Bree heard someone say Stella’s name. Rowan. The word sounded as though it had been pulled from his throat. The shock and pain in his voice made her glad she couldn’t see his face.
“Stella?” she heard Rowan say again and this time, there was less pain. She thought he sounded hopeful. She tried to imagine what he might be going through right now, but found it impossible.
Rowan found that his feet had suddenly stopped working. When he’d watched the woman materialize on the other side of Bree and Lydia, he’d been frozen in shock, unable to take another step. He’d only ever known one person with that ability. His eyes were glued to the woman who was pointing a gun at his friends and his mind couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing. Stella—his Stella—was standing there in front of him. He felt his lips curve into a smile, even as his heart constricted painfully at the sight of her. He felt a hard lump rising in his throat and his mind brought him back to the night Corbin and Sawyer had met him in Ops and told him that she was gone. The twin looks of pity in their eyes as they’d waited for him to fall apart. He was having difficulty making sense of the two conflicting realities. His memories of losing her and the devastating grief he’d learned to live with over the last ten months fought with the truth of the woman standing before him.
He motioned for Declan to wait, to let him handle things and to his shock, the other man agreed. He stopped walking though Rowan knew how difficult it must have been. The two of them shared a look and Rowan understood that Declan was trusting him to keep Bree safe. He took a deep breath and finally another step.
Rowan said Stella’s name without deciding to do so. He only realized he’d spoken when he heard his own voice, raw and ragged. He’d thought he knew her every expression and maybe he had, before. But now, she was looking at him and the look in her eyes was foreign. It seemed almost as though she didn’t recognize him, but he knew that couldn’t be.
“Stella,” he said again, this time putting more feeling into the word. “Hey. It’s me.” She didn’t respond and he forced himself to take yet another step closer to her. The gun was still pointed at Lydia’s head but Stella’s gaze was on him. His goal was to keep her focused on him and hopefully get her to hand over the gun. Later, he could try to figure out why she had it in the first place. He moved another step closer and Stella’s head tipped slightly to the side. Her eyes, still holding that unfamiliar expression, narrowed. She looked almost as though she were listening to something. If so, Rowan couldn’t hear it. He glanced at the gun and watched as it seemed to wobble for an instant before she steadied it. He took another step and looked back to her face.
He was close now. Only a few more steps would move him into position to place himself between Lydia and the gun. The Stella he’d known would never do anything to hurt him. He didn’t know how much she’d changed since her disappearance, but he was betting his life on that fact remaining true. She was still as a statue as he took another step closer. He moved slowly but deliberately. He didn’t want to startle her but he was determined to get between her and the other two women.
“Stella,” he said her name again. He’d spent so long avoiding any mention of her as a way to hide from his grief. Her name felt almost strange to say. “I missed you,” he said. “What have you been up to?” He did his best to infuse his normal tone into the words. He smiled. “This place hasn’t been the same without you.” Again, Stella’s head tilted and this time, Rowan felt certain that she was listening to something. But he heard nothing. The gun moved several inches in his direction and he watched Stella’s eyes widen as though she were frightened. The gun halted on its path toward Rowan. It was no longer pointed at Lydia and he took this as a good sign. The two women began to slowly move away from where they’d been standing but Stella’s focus was now completely on Rowan and she seemed to have forgotten the others. He could see a fine tremor in her arm as though she were having difficulty keeping the gun steady. His own eyes narrowed as he looked from her face to the gun and back.
“It’s okay,” he said, trying to make his tone reassuring. “You’re home now. You’re safe.” Something flashed in her eyes and it looked almost like pain. Rowan was growing more confused by the moment. Stella’s jaw clenched tightly and the gun moved jerkily, continuing its arc toward him. He raised his hands before him as she pointed the gun at his chest. Unlike when it had been pointed at Lydia and Bree, it wobbled in her hand. Rowan kept his attention focused on her face, ignoring the gun. He saw her lips move the tiniest bit and then a second time, more obvious. The hallway was completely silent save for the muted sounds of people breathing which was the only reason Rowan even heard the word when it escaped her lips.
“Run,” she whispered through clenched teeth and he saw her eyes widen in pain before she let out a gasp. A drop of bright red blood dripped from one side of her nose and her free hand shot up to her temple as though she had a sudden headache. A cry of pain escaped her and Rowan had to force himself not to move forward, to comfort her. He didn’t know what was happening but Stella was hurting. Regardless of the gun she held pointed at him, his first instinct was to ease her pain. As he watched, the strain left her eyes and it was replaced by the blankness of before. Her hand steadied and the gun was once more leveled at his chest. Rowan’s mind cycled through scenarios, attempting to find a way through this that ended with no one hurt.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly. “It’s going to be okay.”
Her brows drew tight over her eyes and he saw a flash of sadness there. She gave a tiny shake of her head but the gun remained still. As he watched, Stella’s breaths began to come faster and he could see the tense set of her shoulders. More blood dripped from her nose and her arm began to shake. Tears filled her eyes and spilled over, rolling down her cheeks. Rowan wished he knew what to do, but he was helpless. He could only stand there with his hands up, watching her. Stella’s eyes closed tightly and he heard her scream before the gun suddenly fell from her hand and clattered to the floor.
Opening her eyes, Stella looked at Rowan and gave him a shocked smile before her eyes rolled backward and she dropped like a stone. He caught her as she crumpled and lowered her gently to the floor. Lydia, Bree and Declan ran over and knelt beside the two of them.
“What happened?” Bree asked.
“I don’t know,” Rowan said as touched his fingers to Stella’s neck, searching for a pulse. He visibly relaxed when he found one. “She’s breathing. I think she just fainted.” He gave her shoulder a gentle shake. “Stella? Stella! Wake up!” His voice was commanding and they all watched as her eyes opened slightly and she let out a groggy groan. Rowan smiled in relief and looked up to the others. “She’s—” he broke off and his eyes widened.
“Well, that was certainly disappointing.” As one, they all turned to look in the direction of the voice they’d just heard. A man was standing there. He was tall and thin and looked to be in his early thirties. His hair was full and dark and he looked almost friendly at first glance. There was something about his eyes however, that said differently.
They were so dark they were nearly black and it was difficult to look directly at them. He was standing between them and the stairwell door. Had he been in the stairwell this whole time? His arms hung at his sides and he held a gun in one hand, pointed at the floor.
Declan scrambled for the gun that was still lying on the floor near Stella’s feet. His hand froze inches away from the weapon and he closed his fingers into a fist. As he looked at the gun, he suddenly realized that he no longer wanted to reach for it. He wanted to sit quietly with his hands folded in his lap, so that’s what he did. He sat down hard on the floor and folded his legs beneath him. His eyes shot to the gun lying so near him and he tried to uncurl his fingers but he felt a dull headache forming at the base of his skull. It eased when he stopped moving. What the hell? He didn’t understand. He turned his head to look at Bree who was staring at him in confusion. He opened his mouth to say something to her but then felt an overwhelming urge to remain silent. His mouth snapped shut with an audible click.
“That’s quite enough of that.” The stranger was looking intently at Declan and suddenly understanding dawned. This man was somehow controlling him. Declan knew what he needed to do, what he wanted to do, but it didn’t matter. He was incapable of doing anything but what the stranger made him do. He was suddenly afraid. If this man willed it, he could force any of them to kill the others. His eyes went to Bree who was still looking at him in confusion. He tried to open his mouth to speak but his jaw was clenched tightly and that pain returned to the base of his skull, sharper this time. Every time he tried to do anything beyond sitting there silently with his hands folded, the pain shot through his head. Still, he struggled against the invisible bonds that held him.
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