by Angel Lawson
He looks helpless. Lost. The whole charade of their lives is crumbling. “You’re not my friend. You’re one of them.”
“Astrid, look, it’s a complex situation.”
“Did you kill him?” she asks, reaching for his arm again. He pulls back and she sees the flash of metal. His gun. “You killed Atticus, didn’t you? It was someone he knew.” Her hands start to shake and her emotions roll over the both of them like a tidal wave. The car vibrates, creaking and groaning beneath him.
“I didn’t kill him. You don’t understand. I’ll tell you everything, but you have to calm down.”
White rage blinds her and she covers her ears with her hands. She no longer hears his voice but senses the door opening and closing. All she can think of is Atticus dead in the front seat of the van, blood dripping everywhere. The feel of Quinn’s lips on hers. She should have known. She got distracted. She should have sensed it. He was there all along.
The emotions; the pain, the anger, frustration, guilt, guilt, guilt consume her every fiber.
Astrid closes her eyes and screams and screams and screams.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Draco
Frantic banging on the back door of the cottage almost scares the shit out of him. Like, he may have actually shit in his pants if he wasn’t genetically attuned for sudden attack. With the book in his hand held like a weapon, Draco leaps out of his chair and approaches the door, stopping when he looks out the window. A thin Japanese man slams his fists on the door and Draco blinks twice before opening it, processing the situation.
“Casper?” he asks, once they stand face-to-face. The goblin is awash in daylight, wide-eyed and shaking. Draco searches over the man’s shoulder toward the bunker. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s A-A-A, Astrid.”
The hair on the back of his neck stands on end. Nothing else would get him out of that bunker.
“Is she hurt?”
“There’s an e-e-e-vent on the highway.” He tenses at his speech. “She’s h-h-hurt.”
“You know how to find her?”
He nods.
“I’ll drive.”
The gas station is out of the city and Draco speeds through the streets in the BMW. The car handles the speed well, hugging the curves and gliding in and out of traffic.
Casper stares at him as he punches it to make it through a yellow light, his pale hands gripping the seat. “W-w-w-who taught you to drive l-l-like this?”
He shrugs and shifts gears, leaving Crescent City behind, taking the speed up to 100. “Part of the genetic package, apparently.”
“Is there a-a-a-anything you can’t do?”
He thinks about Astrid and how badly he wants her and how he can’t let go enough to do it. From the look on Casper’s face, he suspects he knows about his flaw.
“Tell me how to find this place,” he says, and through his stammer, Casper explains that he had a tracker on her Jeep and she’d driven to meet up with Jensen. He didn’t have a verbal recording of what went on, but through the camera in the Jeep he witnessed them have some kind of altercation in the car. And then Astrid imploded.
He holds out a tablet that has a red beacon blinking in the middle.
“The c-c-c-ar started f-f-fucking shaking. She c-c-c-overed her eyes and ears. Then b-b-boom.” He makes a gesture with his hands like an explosion.
“An actual explosion?”
“More l-l-l-ike a wave of e-e-energy.”
Draco pushes the car to go faster.
Luckily, there’s only a few people standing around the car. Astrid is still sitting in the SUV, expression blank. The tires are flat. Her Jeep sits next to it. The windows on both cars are shattered. It’s only a matter of time before Jensen or someone on his team comes back for the vehicle and maybe her. They need to get out of here.
“Text Quinn. Tell him they need to get the Jeep and that I’ve got her,” he says, racing from the car. He opens the door and finds her, shocked and trembling in the passenger seat. He touches her cheek. “Astrid. We’re here. I’m going to take you home.”
Seeing her like this knocks the breath out of him and he’s thinking of her in that pink hat with cat ears, watching him lift weights in the group home gym. She was small and vulnerable then. He never thought he’d see it happen again, but whatever went on with Jensen tore her up. She did this to herself but something sparked it.
He’s going to find out what.
Leaning close, he expects her to fight back, but there’s no life in her. It’s like she’s drained of all energy. He glances at Casper, who sits in the car looking worried. He won’t come out. He’s already probably done more than he can.
“I don’t know what happened out here, but we’re going to fix it. You’re going to be okay. Got it?” She blinks and turns to face him. Impulsively, he brushes his lips against hers. He knows for once the jolt of energy isn’t manipulated in any way. She’s too burned out to play with his emotions.
No, that heat. That want. That…love? That’s all him and he knows it.
Carefully he picks her up, ignoring the people standing by the pumps, watching. Casper climbs over the seat and opens the back door from the inside. Draco lays her inside and the hacker takes her gently into his arms.
Once settled, Draco jumps in the driver’s seat and peels out of the parking lot.
He glances in the rearview mirror at Astrid; her eyes closed and exhausted in the back seat. Casper runs his hand through her hair. Draco presses down on the gas and heads home.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Astrid
Snuggled in like a caterpillar in a cocoon, Astrid wakes in a vaguely familiar room. Daylight fades in the windows and a fire crackles nearby. The gray blanket surrounding her smells heavenly; spicy and sweet at the same time. A faint heartbeat catches her attention, along with shallow breathing. She glances to her right and spots a stack of books. That’s when she realizes where she is.
Draco’s room.
Exhausted, she struggles to a sitting position, looking for Mr. Perfect. He’s not there, but in the chair by the fireplace she does see someone else. He’s focused on a tablet in his hands.
“Casper?” she asks, wincing at her raw throat.
He glances up and his eyes dart to the door. He’s going to run. Bolt like lightning, but she coughs and clarity clicks in his eyes. He runs over, stumbling over the rug. He fumbles with a glass next to the bed, filling it with water from a clear pitcher. He doesn’t speak but he hands her the glass. She drinks and eyes him carefully.
Finally seeing Casper, whose real name is Cedric, in person almost feels like seeing a ghost. She’s known him for months now; talked and joked around, worked and planned. She thinks they’re friends, at the very least teammates, but there’s no doubt about the distance between them.
He’s socially awkward. That part is obvious. Her empathy picks up on it immediately—a nervous vibration under his skin. He’s pale from his time inside, but not sickly. He must have access to some light. He’s thin, but like Draco told her, he does a little training. He’d probably die under one of her sessions at the gym. His cheekbones are killer, and his eyes a deep, soulful brown. His lips are turned down in a scowl, probably because she’s studying him.
“How did I get here?” she asks. “And why are you out of your bunker?” Her throat feels so raw.
“You w-w-w-were in trouble.” He stares at the ground.
“I remember being with Jensen and…” Her hand covers her mouth. “He told me…well I saw, I saw some bad shit.”
The frown leaves his mouth and he swallows thickly. “W-w-what…” he grimaces and balls his fists.
“Take your time.” She reaches for his arm but he steps back, obviously frustrated. “Seriously.”
His jaw clenches and he inhales. “W-w-what did you see?”
Oh, his voice. Something about it hits a nerve and tears well up. She’s wanted to hear it ever since she found out he was altering it. She fights off a
ny acknowledgement of this, though. It would only make him angry.
“Jensen is part of it all. Project 12. He knew all our mentors. He knew us as kids. I don’t know what side he was on, but I accused him of killing Atticus.”
His eyes widen. “Did y-y-you see him do it?”
She shakes her head. “No. He says he didn’t. I don’t know, some people can hide things from me, and I was really upset.”
“The c-c-car. How?” his words are clipped, keeping him from speaking—stammering. She wishes he wasn’t so self-conscious about it.
“I just lost it. Like, one minute I was angry, and then the next it was like a build-up of everything. Fear, anger, frustration, rage. It was like I exploded.”
“You k-k-k-ind of did.” He shakes his head incredulously, but she also spots the smile on his lips. “Totally f-f-fucked up the car.”
She still feels drained—lost. Picking at a thread on the quilt she says, “Every time I feel like I get a handle on something, that I gain a little bit of control in my life, something falls apart. It’s like my whole history is built on sand, you know.”
He nods. Of course, he knows.
“I met Quinn and Atticus died. I met you and Owen, and Demetria exploded in our lives. We got Draco and the team falls apart—sidelined. I gave Luby a job and he gets attacked. Now this with Jensen.” She sighs and rests her head on the pillow, releasing a gust of delicious Draco-smelling air. “I just want something consistent. Something sure. I want people and things to count on.”
Casper looks down on her, his black T-shirt frayed along the hem. Awkwardly, hesitantly, he reaches out and grazes her cheek with the back of his hand. She leans into it, knowing what he’s trying to say without words. She has him. She has the man who left her in this bed. She has Owen and Quinn, who are probably out there on the warpath right now.
“W-w-w-we’ll get through this.” His jaw tenses. “I’m n-n-not letting those b-b-bastards win.”
“I know.” She knows it but doesn’t feel it, not in her heart.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Quinn
The Jeep is right where Casper said it would be, around the side of the gas station near the dumpster. The SUV next to it looks like a prop out of a film—a car post-earthquake. The whole thing is broken down from the shattered windows to the flat tires.
“What the hell happened?” he mutters, pulling up next to it. Casper said to hurry, get the Jeep out of here fast before Jensen’s men returned. He didn’t get a response about what happened to Jensen in the first place. All the text said was:
We have Astrid
Get the Jeep
Jensen is compromised.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Owen says, getting out of the front seat.
“Same.” He touches the SUV, searching for traces of energy. There’s nothing there. The systems are blown. “If Astrid’s tied to this, we need to get rid of the evidence.”
“The Jeep?” Owen asks. She’ll kill them if they do anything to it. It was a gift from Atticus. “I don’t know…”
“Not the Jeep,” he says. He rests his hand on the top of the SUV. “This. The Task Force can definitely use it against her.”
“What are you going to do? Call Draco to drag it out of here on his back?”
Quinn laughs. That guy could probably do it. He’s a beast. “I’ve got this. Cover me?”
He rubs his hands together, charging electricity. Owen understands and tosses up a manipulation shield, blocking them from view. His fingers tingle, firing up with the current and sparks. When the ball is strong enough, he places both hands on the car and fries it. Completely.
The metal shivers, quaking under the current; smoke billows from under the hood, the dead engine twists into a melted heap. When Quinn is finished, there’s nothing left but the scent of burned metal and a glob of molten remains.
His hands shake from expending so much energy and he wipes them on his pants.
“Quinn,” Owen says, with a nod to the street. He turns and a black Humvee rolls into the parking lot.
“Fuck.” He grimaces. “Can we get out of here without them seeing us?”
“Do you really want to?” he asks, no doubt thinking of what Rowe did to Luby.
Quinn raises his eyebrows and tests his currents. He’s still got some juice. Owen lowers the shield.
The Humvee screeches to a stop and four men in Task Force uniforms scramble out. Rowe exits from the driver’s seat. His standard smug expression is plastered on his face.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same,” Quinn says, crossing his arms in a way he knows makes him look even bigger. Two of the men behind Rowe shift on their feet.
“I was sent out here to check on one of the agency’s vehicles.” He looks around Quinn. Then narrows his eyes. “I’m assuming that’s what’s left of it.”
“We’re just getting some gas.” Owen looks innocently at Quinn. “Should I run in and get Astrid a snack?”
“Good idea.”
Neither of them moves.
“Where is your boss?” he frowns at the Jeep. “Is that hers? Strange that my boss and your boss were both here and their cars look like they survived a bombing.”
“That is weird,” Owen agrees. “You know what else is weird? That our employee Luby is in the hospital after an encounter with you at Crescent Homes.”
Rowe shakes his head, his expression blank. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
“So it’s okay to just fuck with teenagers now?”
“Hey, it’s not my fault all the big boys and girls ran off because they were scared.”
Rowe doesn’t know they’re the Elite. At least Quinn thinks he doesn’t, and Astrid made it clear her meeting with Jensen was off the record, that’s why they’re out here, but something about Rowe is nagging at him. What’s this all about? Why is he picking a fight? Just wanting Owen and Quinn to make a move? Reveal themselves?
Too bad neither are that dumb.
Quinn doesn’t need his gifts to take down Rowe, he’s proved it before, and the prick needs a lesson for what he did to Luby—what he’s doing to Astrid. He steps closer to Rowe and says, “I’m sure the heroes have better things to do than clean up after your messes, but let me tell you one thing: you fuck with Astrid or any of her employees again, and you’ll do it with two broken legs.”
A vicious smile tugs at Rowe’s lips; the others reach for their weapons, ready to arrest him, but their commander holds up his hand.
“You want another go at it?” he asks, puffing his chest.
“Only if you want to embarrass yourself again.”
There’s no warning when Rowe snaps, only the swing of his arm as it hurtles toward Quinn’s face. Good thing his reflexes are fast and he ducks, diving forward, barreling into Rowe’s body. His back hits the Humvee and his men come forward.
“Don’t think about it,” he grunts and they back off. This is an old score.
The pair is evenly matched and Rowe’s fist packs a powerful punch. His knuckles crash into Quinn’s jaw. He gets him back, landing two jabs to his kidneys, but Quinn takes an elbow in his lower back. The blow knocks the wind out of him and his anger brings the current to the surface, but he wills it back.
The two men pummel the crap out of one another. Through blurry vision, he watches Rowe spit blood on the ground.
“Stay away from the gym, the employees, and especially Astrid,” Quinn grunts, swiping at the back of his knees. Rowe doesn’t fall, he feints and snatches Quinn’s wrists with his hands, yanking them securely behind his back. He bends when the sharp point of the man’s knee rams in his back.
Squirming and in pain, he’s trapped.
Quinn’s eyes flick to Owen’s as he grimaces, licking his puffy, busted lip. He’s furious for leaving an opening.
“I could take you in right now for vandalizing that car.” Rowe’s breath is hot on his ear. “They wouldn’t put you
in jail, though. Fuck no, they’d poke and prod you to figure out what makes you special; how you destroyed that car. I’ve seen what they do to freaks and trust me, this is not a game you want to mess with.”
“Back off, Rowe,” Owen says. “Quinn’s not one of the vigilantes. He’s a gym rat and you’re just pissed he’s banging the chick that rejected you.”
Quinn can’t help but snort. Rowe twists his wrists even harder.
Whatever he has planned next is cut short by a static-y voice from inside the car. He jerks his head at one of his men and he grabs the transmitter.
Jensen’s voice crackles over the speaker.
“Code-11. I repeat. Code-11.”
“Fuck,” Rowe growls in Quinn’s ear. He releases his grip but not without shoving him hard on the ground. He can’t catch himself but he manages to turn, landing full weight on his shoulder. Two of Rowe’s men kick him on the way to the truck and Owen charges, but a short shake of the head from Quinn stops him.
The Humvee roars to life and peels out of the lot. Just as they turn onto the road, Owen flips his wrist and the vehicle swerves, tires squealing, and careens off the road. Offering Quinn a hand, he helps him off the ground.
“What did you do?” he asks, sagging under his injuries. The Humvee gets back on the road.
“Tossed an 18-wheeler in the way. Fuckers.”
Quinn laughs but it hurts his mouth. His jaw. Everything. Bastard got the best of him this time.
This time, he thinks, knowing it won’t be the last.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Draco
The street is narrow with rows of look-a-like townhomes on both sides. The community is newer, modeled after the housing on the Harbor Line. A coffee shop is three blocks away. A bakery with gluten-free muffins is next to that. The whole city is in a state of turnover, and Draco watches one of the men involved with the changes exit his car and walk up to one of the brick homes.
Even from a distance, Jensen looks tired—whatever happened with him and Astrid took it out of both of them. The way he stealthily eyes the street hints to paranoia. Is he worried about Astrid or one of her team? Or is he worried about his own?