Shifting Fate

by Melissa Wright

  I was too flustered to come up with a good lie, and Logan wasn’t letting it go. It was obvious my response wasn’t a nothing, but I couldn’t tell him the truth. What was I supposed to say, that fate had chosen him for me, that he was my one? The idea mortified me even more and I was suddenly too hot as the flush seemed to take over my entire body.

  Logan noticed as he stared me down, the concern slowly shifting into understanding. I knew my face went impossibly redder as awareness slipped over his features, but I sat frozen as his eyes stayed locked with mine. It was apparently a full two minutes before the idea became utterly pleasing to him. A smile started at the corner of his mouth, crossing slowly over his lips, as if to say, ’ah, so that’s how it is.’

  Grin still plastered to his face, he sat up, puffing his chest with unconcealed, all-male pride, and laced his fingers behind his head to lean slowly back into his chair.

  “Oh, please,” I hissed.

  He shrugged, the movement bringing my attention to the way his outstretched arms flexed for just an instant before I caught myself. When my gaze met his again, his eyes were crinkled in satisfied humor.

  I glared at him. He wagged his eyebrows.

  The gesture seemed to imply far more that it probably did, but given my absolute mortification, I took the act to mean it was all me. My idea. My fantasy. In an effort to defend myself, I huffed, “It was only a kiss.”

  I regretted the words before they were even out of my mouth.

  He leaned forward, suddenly, impossibly more interested than before.

  I dropped my head to the table, covering my face with my hands just before my brow met wood with a dull thud. I had no idea if he heard me mutter, “Oh God,” into my palms.

  Chapter Seven

  Outings

  Logan had the decency to leave me alone after that. However, I couldn’t help but notice the contented smile that crept onto his lips every time I glanced in his direction. I tried not to let it distract me, but the research wasn’t getting me anywhere. When evening rolled around, I sighed heavily and closed the cover on the last book in front of me.

  “This isn’t working,” I said. “There’s nothing here, it’s all too general and not helpful.”

  Logan nodded, glancing at his watch before grabbing the backpack to go. I stretched as I slid into my sweater and followed him out the door. A crew was working on the hallway, so we took a narrow corridor toward the garage. Logan stopped at the end of the corridor to enter his passcode and I came up beside him, rubbing a hand over the stiff muscles in my neck. He glanced absently at the ceiling, where loose wiring hung from what was probably a camera before the work crews had taken it down, and his hand stilled on the handle of the door.

  His eyes met mine, and my arm froze as I abruptly realized how close we were. He hadn’t spoken since my humiliating revelation, but the silence had been different then. Now, it was fully charged, and he was inches away from me.

  “Brianna,” he whispered.

  I couldn’t help that my gaze fell to his mouth when he spoke, but when he returned the gesture my throat went suddenly dry.

  He moved closer, slowly, infinitesimally, and his eyes came back to mine. I waited, unable to move, until he finally said in a low voice, “Is it now?”

  There was no question as to the “it” he was referring to, and a kind of thrilling terror spiked through me. The rational part of my brain was lost, but I knew it was somewhere, screaming, This is no time to kiss a stranger. After a moment, I managed a squeaky, “No.” However, it was quiet, because my chest had clenched too tight to gather more than a whisper’s worth of breath.

  Logan smiled, but it wasn’t the same smile he’d worn earlier. I didn’t have the chance to fully classify it, though, because he pressed the final button and the keypad beeped as it allowed the door to open. I followed him through the next hall, heart pounding and hand pressed to my stomach, but when we reached the car, Logan opened the door for me as if nothing had happened. As if this situation was entirely normal.

  As if I hadn’t just told him I’d had visions of us making out. I smacked a hand over my face, but quickly dropped it to my lap as the driver’s door opened. Logan slid in, checking my seatbelt was in place before starting the engine with the press of a button beside the steering wheel of what must have been an eighty thousand dollar car.

  “Logan,” I asked, wanting to change the subject, but nearly losing my train of thought when he glanced over at me, “are these your cars?”

  He smirked. “Security pays good, Brianna, but not that good.” I pursed my lips and he answered more fully. “On this particular assignment, I have unlimited access to both Council and Division resources.”

  “So …”

  “Pretty much anything I want.”

  I considered that on the drive back to the Southmont house, though I couldn’t see what benefit it would be to my dilemma. I needed something intangible. I needed a miracle.

  Emily was waiting on us this time, casually flipping through the last pages of the book she’d brought me during my recovery. Caught, she snapped the cover shut and stuffed it quickly behind a cushion. I grinned, not needing to announce to Logan that my sister had some kind of perverse penchant for reading only the end of a novel. She didn’t acknowledge my knowing smile, instead standing to give Logan a small wave. It struck me then that I had the perfect comparison for the prophecy. It was like reading the end of a book, knowing what would happen but having to wait to see how the chapters played out in between.

  I turned to him, but started as Brendan walked out of the other room. My bedroom.

  My gaze flicked to Emily, who was watching Logan stare at Brendan. It appeared a mild enough look, but somehow, I knew the expression held something more.

  “Brianna,” Brendan said, completely ignoring Logan and his stare. “We finished bringing up your things.” He gestured toward my room. “I was just doing a final security sweep.”

  Logan didn’t speak, but a muscle twitched in his arm where he stood beside me.

  Brendan stepped closer, speaking only to me. “I didn’t realize you’d be leaving the property. I assure you, our teams will be ready for your next … outing.”

  “Oh,” I said, not wanting Logan’s men to be caught in the middle of whatever tension my protection was creating, “I only went to the archives. I—”

  Brendan cut me off. “As I said, tomorrow, we will be ready.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Brendan,” Logan announced. “Brianna’s work at the archives is complete.”

  Brendan’s jaw flexed, but his eyes stayed on mine. “Please, let me know if there is any way I can assist in your efforts.”

  Emily rolled her eyes. “Actually, Brianna has an engagement with me this evening, so if you boys could just …” She made a shooing gesture with her hands. When the men were gone, the door closed behind them, Emily said, “What’s it like being a celebrity?”

  I flopped down onto the couch. “Exhausting.” I turned back to her. “Is it not like that for you at Council?”

  Emily shrugged. “I can’t exactly do anything exciting.” She winced at the implication and tried to cover it. “Like predicting the future, I mean.”

  “Yeah, well it only helps if I can figure out what to do with it.”

  I thought of the prophecies again, how they had shifted when Emily was bound to Aern, how they were changing even now, the future in a horrible flux where every outcome was worse than the next.

  “Maybe you’re trying too hard,” Emily said. “You’re strung tighter than a bobcat on a bowstring.”

  I shot her a sidelong glance at the use of one of our more amusing foster family’s sayings, but the seriousness in her expression dragged a chuckle out of me. I threw a couch pillow at her. “Sit down. We have work to do.”

  She complied, but eventually the exhaustion and constant worry caught up with me, making even my mental efforts useless. When it was clear I’d made absolutely no progress, we relaxe
d, sinking back into the couch. Emily was explaining that she had business with Aern and probably wouldn’t make it the next day, and I nodded my understanding as I closed my eyes against the letters and fibers and connections I’d been seeing all day. I wondered if they would be burned there, a constant swirl and glow that hazed over everything I would ever see again.

  I dropped my head back and kicked off my boots. In my fatigue, I was no longer concerned about being carted barefoot out a window.

  I must have dozed off, but when the scent of warm food hit my senses, I was jerked awake. I stretched, surveying the room to find two plates of chicken and rice with steamed vegetables on the table. Thinking it was odd that they’d left me alone, I crept silently toward it, realizing I probably resembled prey sniffing bait and not actually caring. And then I noticed my bedroom door had been shifted partially closed.

  My bare feet were noiseless on the plush carpet, but Logan wasn’t surprised to find me peeking through the open door. His jaw was tight as he disassembled a small black box near my bureau. He didn’t explain what he was doing, but I could see by the collection of plastic fragments scattered over the cabinet’s top that he’d been breaking apart several electronic security devices while I slept. It didn’t take a genius to figure out they were Brendan’s.

  When he dropped the last piece onto the dresser, he looked up at me with what appeared to be conflict in his eyes. Two heartbeats later, it changed to determination. He reached down to pick up a bag that lay at his feet and pulled out a few wires and tools before handing it to me. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. His expression left no doubt now. We were leaving.

  I threw a pair of jeans, two sweatshirts, and a toothbrush into the bag while Logan stepped into the hall with his men. He didn’t speak as he led me to the car, and was still silent the first twenty miles of road. But when the traffic thinned and the Division house became more distant, his silence became less angry and more … Logan. The street lights, more and more infrequent, flashed through the darkened windows to illuminate his face.

  There was no question he would be strong. Given his line, his position among Council, Logan would no doubt be as talented as any when it came to using his sway. He could have anything. It was so easy for them to take advantage, when a simple handshake and a smile, a brief word, could cause someone to do whatever they liked. To give whatever they wanted. I’d seen it among the ranks at Division. I’d seen the way Brendan’s select few had lived, the only thing keeping them in check Council and Morgan’s own designs on power and gain.

  Morgan hadn’t settled on money, though. He’d wanted control. Not political power, but ultimate control. Reign. A return to the day they’d ruled as kings. As gods.

  But the man beside me had no interest in any of that. He’d left his position at Council to save his people. He’d chosen to help me.

  He’d chosen this.

  “That’s very distracting,” Logan said, not taking his eyes off the road.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You.” His gaze met mine. “Staring at me.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t look away.

  The corner of his lips twitched.

  “I don’t think he does it on purpose,” I said after a pause.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Logan answered, knowing I was talking about Brendan’s poor decision making. “He put you in danger.” He glanced at the side mirror before changing lanes. “He put all of us in danger.”

  He was right. After Morgan had placed sway on so many of the men, no one could be safely trusted unless I’d personally searched their connections, seen for myself they weren’t under his control. But that wasn’t Brendan’s fault. He was confident in his own men, allowed them access to all of the security systems.

  Because we hadn’t told him everything.

  I looked out the window then, the outskirts of the city passing by in a blur of shadow and light. Headlights reflected off darkened windows, everything closed down too early. I didn’t recognize the view. I opened my mouth to ask where we were going when he turned off the main road, taking a few scenic side streets before pulling into the drive of a three story apartment building. The path curved around the back where a second story parking garage was nestled between it and another building. Logan pulled the car between two similar looking sedans and got out, carrying my bag.

  The closing door echoed across the walled-in garage as he placed a hand on my lower back and led me toward the elevator. It was sleek and stainless, and apparently private. No buttons or numbers lined the wall, merely a small touchscreen that Logan pressed a finger to before the doors sealed us in. On the top floor, we exited to a small foyer where Logan keyed in his passcode to the main door. As he released the lever, he looked back at me, expression unreadable as he paused for just a moment before finally opening the door. He took my hand, walking me forward as he dropped the bag onto a side table.

  The apartment was beautiful. Not in the lavish way the Division houses were; there was no excess here. The furniture was all clean lines, centered in a large, open living space that led to a kitchen and dining area. Of the two doors, one remained open, revealing a single bedroom and private bath. The east wall was solid glass.

  Logan noticed what caught my attention. “It’s one-way glass. It’s completely safe. No one even knows this place exists.”

  I looked up at him. “No one?”

  He pressed his lips. “Aern is the only one who knows where it is, but he wouldn’t expect me to bring you here.”

  His words brought abrupt understanding, and my hand automatically went toward the flutter in my stomach. I stopped it halfway, smoothing the hem of my shirt before sliding the hand into a back pocket. Unable to face him, I stared straight ahead, across the empty apartment into the open door of a bedroom, Logan’s bedroom, and was only reminded we were entirely alone. In his home.

  Chapter Eight

  Histories

  Logan gestured toward the open door, changing the subject before I had time for further reaction. “The bedroom, bath.” He abruptly turned toward the kitchen, remembering we’d left our dinner uneaten at Southmont. “Hungry?”

  I nodded numbly. “Sure. Thanks.”

  He walked past me to the kitchen, brushing the arm that was braced into my jeans pocket. I swallowed hard, and turned to follow him.

  Logan was at ease here, suddenly more casual than I’d seen him before. He rested an arm on the open pantry door, staring in as he decided on dinner. “There’s not much left,” he said, throwing an apologetic smile over his shoulder before reaching in for some canned vegetables. “I’ve not been here lately.”

  He left the door open as he shifted to place a saucepan on the stove, and I peered into the cabinet. Logan noticed my slow smile. “What is it?”

  I stared at the clear plastic jars with bright red lids. “Peanut butter.”

  He watched my smile for a heartbeat longer than was probably socially acceptable, and it faltered as that nervous thrill resurfaced. Logan returned his attention to the saucepan.

  I ran a finger over the dark granite counter top. “Is there something I can do?”

  He pursed his lips. “Actually, you could stir this while I go change.”

  “Sure,” I said, and watched in mock outrage as he turned down the burner. “You don’t trust me for five minutes?”

  One brow raised, and in that simple gesture he reminded me that I’d just grinned goofily over peanut butter. I chuckled despite myself.

  Logan was gone in an instant, leaving the bedroom door cracked as he washed up. I studied the pot in front of me, stirring mindlessly until I was once again on the verge of sleep. I stifled a yawn, and a hand on my waist startled me out of it.

  Logan took the spoon and gestured for me to sit. He was wearing a soft gray T-shirt, a bulge in the fabric hinting at a pistol tucked into the back of his broken-in jeans. He ladled out two bowls and brought them to the table, sitting beside me without so much as a word. It was nice
, being with him, being near him. And Emily was with Aern. He would protect her. He would do anything he could. Despite the constant warnings, it felt safe. Safer than it had in a long time.

  “Brianna,” Logan said after I’d finished most of my soup. “You’re asleep on your feet.” He slid out of his chair. “Come on.”

  I followed him to the bedroom door where he handed me my bag. “I’ll be right out here if you need anything,” he said, pointing toward the couch.

  “Thanks,” I replied, clutching the pack too tight against my chest.

  Logan pulled the door nearly closed behind him, leaving only a narrow strip of the living room visible from where I stood. He disappeared from view as he moved toward the kitchen to clean up dinner, so I walked slowly across the smooth, dark wood floors for the bath. I sat the bag on the sink, pulling my hair back to splash my face with cool water. When I reached for a towel, I noticed Logan’s shirt draped over the rack, which abruptly reminded me that I was in his house. Alone with him. I pressed the towel hard against my face, trying to blot out the remembered vision of our not-yet-happened kiss.

  It didn’t work.

  I ran a hand through my hair, pulling out the band as I made a face at my train of thought in the mirror. I needed to go to sleep. That was all.

  I unzipped the pack, reaching in to find that I had neglected to pack pajamas. A whispered curse slipped through my lips at the two sweatshirts and jeans. I really did need sleep. I glanced down at the shirt I’d been wearing, the one I’d have to wear tomorrow beneath my sweatshirt, and frowned. My gaze trailed slowly to Logan’s shirt, then back to my own. It felt wrong, somehow, but I managed to convince myself I was being ridiculous. I tugged off my own clothes to place across the rack, and drew Logan’s too-big shirt over my head. It hung loose, draping me to about mid-thigh, and it smelled like him. A hand came up to bring the material closer to my face, but I stopped it, glaring at myself in the mirror as I clicked off the light. Ridiculous.