Elements of the Enemy (Alliance Society Book 1)

by C. J. Felver

  “Don’t bother him about it yet, Lyza. Let’s grab our stuff and get out of here.” My skin is already crawling again, and the shadows are playing tricks on me. In my mind’s eye, someone has already smashed through the window and attacked us, someone else has barreled down the hallway wielding one of those stun sticks that emit sparks, and a firing squad has peppered the wall with bullets.

  I shake my head to clear it of my imagination running wild.

  Having someone come into your home is the worst invasion of privacy. For a bit, I thought I was being a little dramatic about what happened here … but being back confirms my feelings. There’s no way I could stay here again. Not when someone had busted down my door to take my dad against his will.

  Wren’s hand slides into mine, giving me a quick squeeze, bringing me back to reality.

  Right. Grab our stuff and go. Lyza is already in her bedroom, so I drop Wren’s hand and move awkwardly toward my own room, stuffing the letters into the back pocket of my jeans. Why I feel awkward now, I have no idea.

  Last time we were in the apartment, we hadn’t moved past the living room. Pushing open the door of my own bedroom, I find it … completely undisturbed. How strange. I expected the whole place to be ransacked and upturned, but everything is exactly as I left it that morning.

  “They didn’t touch your room, either?”

  I start at Lyza’s voice behind me. “Yeah. Does that seem weird, or is it just me?”

  “Definitely not just you, girl.”

  “No, that makes sense.” Lyza and I turn to give Wren puzzled looks. How in the world does that make sense? “My team would’ve stopped at whichever room Frank was in. They had no reason to look further. It was just an apprehension mission.”

  “Oh, well, I guess if that’s all it was,” Lyza says in a mocking tone before she disappears back down the hallway.

  I turn my attention back to my room, making my way over to the closet, where I grab my duffle bag and start shoving clothes into it, not even bothering to fold anything.

  “You know, you don’t have to keep staying at Zander’s place …”

  Glancing over my shoulder, I notice Wren’s hands are in his pockets and he’s rocking back on his heels. What is he so nervous about?

  Oh. Oh. The blood drains from my face as what he said clicks into place. He’s offering for me to stay at his place. With him.

  This is the second time he’s made this offer. The first time he offered, things were different. But now that I trust him, and maybe have a crush on him—no, definitely a crush on him, even though I just started trusting him and just started getting to know him—I still don’t know what to think about his offer.

  “I mean, it’s just an idea. You don’t have to or anything. I’m definitely not asking you to move in. I only meant you can stay with me—if you want—until you find a new place.”

  His gaze drops to his feet, not even bothering to try to make eye contact. I can’t help but laugh at him. In the short time I’ve known him, I never would’ve guessed Wren could look so vulnerable and unsure of himself. It shouldn’t be a funny sight, but it is, and once the laughter starts bubbling up, I can’t make it stop. All these nerves rattling around inside me must’ve decided laughter was their best form of exit.

  I drop my bag, doubling over and holding my stomach, laughing so hard tears form in my eyes. I take a deep breath to regain composure.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him as I wipe the mirth from my eyes. “Thanks, Wren. It’s sweet of you to offer your place like that. I—” What do I say? I like the guy, but moving in with him—no matter how temporary—seems like a lot really fast. “I—” He cuts me off before I can give him some sort of answer.

  “You don’t have to give me an answer right away. I just wanted you to have another option. Maybe it’s just me, but I think your welcome at Zander’s is wearing out. He seems a bit stressed.”

  “Nah, not just you, bigshot,” Lyza says from her usual spot leaning against my doorframe. “Zan Man is definitely more stressed than he was the other day. But aren’t we all right now?”

  “True,” I say. Lyza walks away. Why did she come over here in the first place? Was it my lunatic laughter?

  I reach down, picking up my bag to finish packing, but Wren takes the bag from my hands and sets it back on the floor. He grabs my hands and meets my gaze, rooting me in place.

  “About what I said earlier …” His eyes bore into mine, conveying that he means the bit where he said he has feelings for me. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I didn’t even realize that was how I felt until I saw the mess out there.”

  Wow. Uh, I don’t know what to say, but Wren doesn’t seem to mind. His arms wrap around my waist and he pulls me flush against him.

  Something clicks into place, almost audibly, in my head.

  It’s like this piece of my soul, one I didn’t know had been missing, just happened to come back when he said those words. This … it felt right, like something I shouldn’t continue to fight. Like a weight lifting from my shoulders.

  I lean further into him and tip my head back to meet his gaze. I’m ensnared there, unable to move—not that I want to anyway—held captive by the raw passion in his eyes. Unable to resist the desire building within me, my lips crash into his, kissing him with a frenzy of emotions.

  We lose ourselves together, forgetting about everything else. He takes control of the kiss, his tongue begging for entrance. I part my lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. His tongue slides against mine. His hands come up, one gripping the back of my shirt, the other tangling in my hair.

  “Not to be the bearer of bad news and all, but we’re on a timeframe here,” Lyza says.

  Wren pulls away, breaking our kiss, but his arms stay wrapped around me, encasing me in his cedarwood and spearmint scent. “Lyza’s right,” he says. “It’s getting late. Tomorrow … I don’t know what to expect, but it can’t be anything good.”

  “Exactly, so are you ready to head out?” Lyza motions toward the door.

  “I need a minute. Someone distracted me,” I say, giving Wren a pointed look. His hands come up in a gesture suggesting he didn’t do anything wrong. Lyza snickers in the hallway and walks off toward the living room.

  Wandering back over to my closet, I pick my bag back up from the floor and finish stuffing my clothes into it.

  “Alright, let’s go. Where did you need to stop, Wren?”

  “My place,” is all he says as we walk through the destroyed living room.

  I wonder what he could need at his place? He hasn’t been staying at Zander’s like Lyza and I have, except for the night we broke into HSI Labs.

  “Before we go, let’s take a peek at those letters,” Lyza suggests, interrupting my thoughts.

  Oh yeah! I almost forgot about the letters. Retrieving them, I wave them in the air. “Courtesy of Courtnie.”

  “Jeez, I can’t believe she left two. It hasn’t been that long.” Lyza grabs them and tears one open. Wren steps in beside me to read over her other shoulder.

  “Tenants of Apartment 308, it has come to my attention that there has recently been a disturbance from your residence. Multiple complaints have been filed due to noise level and high traffic. Consider this a friendly reminder to adhere to our resident policies.”

  She cannot be serious. Our neighbors reported to our landlady but didn’t bother checking in on us?

  “Someone really complained about the noise level and traffic that happened while your dad was being attacked, but didn’t bother calling the cops?”

  “No kidding,” I say, not sure what to think of the letter. Would calling the cops have made a difference? It’s hard to say. “It’s dated for the same day he was taken. Looks like they wasted no time complaining. Wonder what the next one says.”

  Lyza immediately rips open the next one and we all read it.

  “Tenants of Apartment 308, the door to your residence has taken substantial damage. If you are unable to ret
urn it to its proper condition by the end of the week, I will be forced to add a fee to your monthly rent.”

  End of the week? It’s already the end of the week and this letter was dated for the day after the first letter. The day I happened to be strapped to a chair in HSI Labs. The skin on the back of my neck pricks as I look over at Wren. What a different person he was just a few short—okay, more like the longest of my life—days ago. No doubt we’ll be getting another letter soon stating she had to add it to our rent.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll get it taken care of,” Wren says, affirming my thoughts.

  “Much appreciated, bigshot.” Lyza gives Wren’s chest a mocking pat and he turns to head toward the door.

  Lyza looks around the room, eyeing the mess of destroyed furniture. Her gaze catches mine, tormented and shimmering with unshed tears. She looks back to the letters in her hand and drops them. They flutter to the floor, amidst the rest of the mess. She simply shrugs, a mask of composure back on her face, and follows Wren out the crooked door.

  I follow too. Only instead of watching where I’m going, I look behind at the mess of an apartment we’re leaving behind and end up walking face first into Lyza’s back. She grunts as she stumbles into Wren’s back, but he doesn’t budge. That’s when I notice who’s standing in front of him. Our landlady herself, Courtnie Brown.

  Well, this can’t be good. Her visits aren’t usually the nice kind, especially considering the letters we received from her. And the murderous way the corners of her lips are turned down and the vitriol spilling from her eyes.

  “Glad I caught you. So, you were just going to leave, doing nothing about the damage to your door for yet another day? Did you even get my messages? Were you going to just ignore them?”

  Her chest heaves as she finishes her rant, nostrils flaring. Courtnie is one of those women who always looks put together: perfect auburn hair, perfect eyebrows. Hell, she even has a perfect body. But right now she looks like her anger has gotten the best of her. She presses her lips into a thin line and I realize no one has bothered to answer her question.

  “Where have you even been?” She scowls, looking down her nose at us. “You’ve been gone for close to a week. There have been noise complaints, damage to your apartment, and lots of men in tactical gear running around the place mentioning your names.”

  Well, shit. Sounds like we’ve been right to stay away. AGAS has been crawling around the place. A chill runs down my spine, making me shudder.

  “Listen, Cour—” Lyza says, but Courtnie cuts her off.

  “You know, I’m suddenly not in the mood to listen. How about this? Get the door fixed by the end of the day tomorrow or face eviction.” She spins on her heel and stomps away, thundering down the stairs.

  “How in the mother fuck are we going to accomplish that?” Lyza says. “As if we don’t already have enough shit to worry about.” She stomps off, too, huffing and mumbling under her breath.

  Semblance

  “So how far away is your place?” I ask Wren.

  “Only a few miles, it won't take long,” Wren says as we file down the stairwell. Hopefully, whatever apartment we end up in next, we won’t have to climb so many stairs. It’s not necessarily tiring, just obnoxious and time consuming.

  Lyza is leaning against the side of her Jeep, arms crossed gingerly over her chest and a scowl pulling at her lips. We silently load up and Wren pulls onto the road, taking an unfamiliar route. It doesn’t take us long to get there at all, maybe ten minutes. The ride is silent the entire way.

  Thank you, Courtnie, for adding one more thing on the pile of shit for us to deal with.

  Taking a right on the outskirts of uptown Lawrence, gravel crunches under the tires as Wren steers down a winding driveway. The view is almost breathtaking, a sprawling lawn dotted with trees and shrubbery. Everything is green and on the verge of being overgrown. Living in the city for as long as I can remember, I’ve never seen someone’s yard look like this. It’s not something I would expect to see leading up to Wren’s place.

  Beside me, Wren lets out a low chuckle. I glare at him, but it only makes him laugh louder. Rolling my eyes, I turn back toward the window to find that we’re parked in front of a small house.

  “It’s not much, but Harlow and AGAS don’t know about it—at least last I knew they didn’t. It’s been something of a secret project of mine for the last year. I’ve done my best to keep it off their books.”

  “No, it’s actually perfect,” I say. I mean it, too. The quaint little home is sided in gray-blue vinyl and sports a tin roof.

  “Well, it looks like you can do more with your hands than snatch up innocent people,” Lyza drawls. Wren balks, his face going red.

  I look back at her, appalled, but her lips are pursed as she fights laughter.

  “She’s joking,” I tell Wren. He relaxes minutely. “You’ll have to get used to her twisted sense of humor.”

  “Don’t worry, bigshot. I know you were just doing your job. I can’t hold that against you, but at the moment I’m enjoying giving you shit for it. Your landscaping looks incredible.” Lyza pats Wren’s shoulder before leaning back in her seat. “You two go ahead. I’ll wait out here.”

  As Wren and I move to get out of the car, Lyza calls out, “Just, uh, keep in mind we have stuff to get done to prep for tomorrow. I don’t want to sit out here alone all night if you get sidetracked again.”

  “No worries, we’ll be in and out,” I tell her. She makes a suggestive face at me, wagging her eyebrows. Yep, I walked right into that one. “Grow up, Lyza.”

  I shut the Jeep door a little harder than necessary and follow Wren up the three steps to his front porch. There’s only enough room for the two of us to stand there as he unlocks the door and swings it open.

  Inside, he flicks on lights, illuminating an open floor plan living and dining room, with the kitchen on the opposite wall.

  “Like I said, it’s not much,” Wren says with a shrug. He hesitates a moment, his hands twitching at his sides. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s fighting the urge to shove them in his pockets again—his nervous habit. “You’re the first person I’ve brought here,” he admits.

  “I get it.” I slide my hand into his. “If I had a secret little slice of heaven, I’d hide it away too. I’m honored to be here.” Truth rings in my words. It’s not something I’m saying to comfort him. I really mean it.

  He seems to understand, nodding at me before leading me to a hallway off the kitchen. He points to doors as we pass: spare room, bathroom, linen closet. His bedroom is the last door on the left.

  We enter a warmly decorated room, with rich oat-colored walls and the last wisps of daylight filtering through sheer curtains. A plush, deep red comforter covers the queen-size bed. Wren walks to the back of the room and stoops into his closet. I plop down onto the bed, tracing the patterns on the comforter absentmindedly, taking everything in.

  Wren crosses over to the attached bathroom with a duffel bag in hand. He pauses at the threshold a moment before turning to face me, his brows drawn in deep thought.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “It just dawned on me that Harlow must have another facility somewhere.”

  “Really? You think so?” Wren turns back to the bathroom, and I hop off the bed so I’m not shouting across the room. “What he had going on at HSI Labs wasn’t enough for him?” I lean against the doorframe, watching Wren sort through a medical kit.

  “Ambitious, power hungry people are never satisfied with what they have, Cleo. They always want more. I’m also pretty sure he has a silent business partner of some sort.”

  “We can’t even figure out how he plans to administer the serum. How in the world are we going to find another—totally off the radar—facility and business partner?” With a groan, I lean my head back against the door and slide down it, landing on my butt. This is ridiculous. Why is Aulder so shady?

  “Let’s focus on one thing at a time. I wanted to tell you in case s
omething comes up tomorrow. If he does have another facility, he could be hiding out there. With everything going on, somehow I doubt he’ll make a public appearance at this registration event.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. One can only hope.”

  Wren stuffs the medical kit into the duffel bag, then grabs a few more items—including a change of clothes since he’s staying at Zander’s tonight for the sake of our plan tomorrow—and we take off again. He shuts off every light as we leave the house and head back to the Jeep.

  “Wow, guys. I’m impressed. You made it back in under fifteen minutes.”

  “Lyza, you’re ridiculous.”

  “Yeah, but you love me for it,” she says. And she’s not wrong, but still, time and place, and this isn’t it.

  “I grabbed some stuff for your shoulder. And I grabbed bruise balm for you, Cleo,” Wren announces.

  “Okay, what the heck is bruise balm?” Lyza asks.

  “It’s a concoction we came up with when we were training for AGAS. It’ll help the bruising to heal and fade more quickly.”

  “Awesome,” Lyza says, slumping back into her seat as Wren pulls out of the driveway onto the road. I don’t know if I agree with her or not. Call me skeptical, but I seriously doubt there’s any sort of cream or balm able to do that.

  A low vibrating sound fills the cab and Lyza pulls out her phone, leaning into the space between me and Wren. Reese’s face is up on the screen, and Lyza answers it, putting the call on speaker.

  “Hey, girl. What’s up?”

  “Do we want to carpool to the registration thing tomorrow? Or do you want to ride separately?”

  “I mean, we can meet you there, right? With all the crap that’s happened, we’re not at our place right now.”

  “Well, I knew that,” Reese says, “but you can both meet here and ride with me if you want.”

  I share a look with Lyza. If we ride with Reese, then we have to rely on her for a getaway vehicle if things go down the way we’re anticipating they will. The look in Lyza’s eye tells me she’s thinking the exact same thing.