Scarred by Vengeance (Titanium Book 2)

by Valia Lind

  I watch as the blood fills up the cylinder and I can almost swear that it looks darker than the last time I'd seen it. Almost black. I guess I'm not the only one, because Joy takes a step forward. I raise an eyebrow in her direction, but her eyes are trained on the blood.

  Lucas finishes quickly, cleaning the place the needle was off before putting a cotton ball over it. He hesitates a second, then reaches for the medical tape and tapes in place. Smart man. I can't exactly hold it while I'm holding the gun. No one has said a thing the whole time.

  "What is it?" I direct my question at Joy while Lucas takes the vial to a complicated looking machine in the corner. Before placing the vial inside, he extracts a small amount of the blood and puts it on a glass slide. He pushes a few buttons on the machine, slides the rest of the blood into the small slot and closes it.

  "I want to see it," is the only explanation Lucas gives me as he takes the slide with my blood on it and puts it under the microscope. He looks into the lens, adjusting it a few times, before he audibly inhales.

  "What is it?" Paul asks, who is close to Lucas now.

  "She wasn't lying," Lucas replies, standing up and staring at me with wonder in his eyes. I don't understand his response. I knew I wasn't lying, but I really didn't expect this kind of...adoration in his gaze.

  Paul moves closer to the microscope, but Joy gets there first. She looks through the lens, then at me, then back at the lens.

  I don't understand what's happening.

  Paul does the same thing and then all three of them stare at me as if I'm the most precious thing they've ever seen.

  "What. Is. It?" I ask, gritting my teeth in frustration. Their stares are making me feel murderous, not that it's any different from how I'm usually feeling, but still. It's Lucas who finally answers.

  "You're amazing."

  "What?" I jump to my feet, the hand holding the gun shaking a little bit.

  "What I mean—" Lucas hurries on before I start shooting, "is that not only is the drug in your system, but it's there in a capacity we've never seen. It's growing. It's adapting."

  "Adapting?" my voice sounds small in my ears.

  This is not something that I expected.

  This is not something I'm equipped on handling.

  "The drug and the blood are fusing together to create something we've never seen before. It's a response no one has displayed yet. You are one of a kind."

  I stumble a little against the table, putting my hand against my stomach.

  I feel sick.

  I feel angry.

  I feel violated.

  These are all the things that have been true in my life for a long time now. But now, I'm behind enemy lines and that makes this all the more terrifying. I put the gun on the counter in front of me, knowing that's the right thing to do. Neither move toward the weapon, instead, Joy takes a step toward me. She reaches out slowly, grasping my hand in one of hers.

  What she whispers is acceptance and a threat, rolled into one.

  "Welcome."

  15.

  They take me upstairs, and Lucas leaves to do whatever it is Lucas does.

  I sit at the kitchen counter, waiting for them to come up with a decision. I'm still reeling from what they found in my blood.

  Adapting?

  Mutating?

  What am I?

  The question races through my mind over and over as I try not to lose control of the emotions raging within me. I've been doing so well, keeping it all under wraps, but with every passing moment, I'm terrified I'm going to lose control. Again.

  This time, with an audience. An audience that can use my lack of restraint against me. I watch them out of the corner of my eye as they talk in hushed tones. The best case scenario is that they take me to see Foster. The worst case scenario is that they lock me up inside some impenetrable lab.

  "Let's go." Joy motions for me to get up, as Paul walks out the door without a backwards look at us.

  "Where are we going?" I ask, surprised she's not keeping me sedated or handcuffed as we head out the front.

  "There's an old friend who wants to see you." The grin on her face is pure evil and I can't even believe the change in this woman. She's better than a Hollywood actress, taking on whatever role is called upon her. We settle into her golf cart which tells me we won't be going outside the community. Whoever we're going to see, which I think will be Foster, is inside this self made compound.

  Joy doesn't talk or ask questions as we drive deeper into the neighborhood. There are a few people outside, so she focuses her attention on them. Waving at passerby's, her face in a perpetual smile, I wonder just how deeply within the company she is. Pieces of a puzzle race around in my mind. Is this place the only responsibility she has or is there more to her job? So many questions, so little time.

  When we pull up in front of yet another identical house with a red door, my insides get twisted. There's so much here that could be the memories of my childhood. The memories Kallos implanted in my mind. She doesn't say anything, just heads toward the front, expecting me to follow. I have no choice but to do so.

  The inside of the house doesn't match the outside of the house. It's like stepping back in time. Everything seems old English and antiqued. The colors are dark, there's a wood finish on the staircase and the bottom half of the entry way. It's like I've stepped into a Jane Austen novel.

  Joy doesn't pause, heading to the back of the house and I'm right on her heels. I take in and catalogue every picture we come across, but even as I do the mechanical thing, I'm a little taken back by the beauty. Uncle Freddie instilled in me the love for the arts. He would've appreciated the late 1800’s Degas we just passed.

  I push all the thoughts of Uncle Freddie away. I can't get distracted now. Just thinking of him makes me go a little softer inside and I can't be soft. I have to keep my focus on what's at stake.

  Meeting Foster.

  Earning his trust.

  Killing everyone.

  I try not to show just how much pleasure that last thought brings me. Joy stops in front of a set of large wooden double doors, where two men are standing on each side. She nods at them, as they study me over her shoulder, and after a moment's hesitation, reach over and open the doors.

  We step inside, the door closing behind us with an audible click. The room is large and it would be spacious if not for all the bookshelves lining the walls. It's a complete Sherlock Holmes office, with a large table and leather chairs on the side. The lighting is dimmed, so it takes me a second to pinpoint all the corners of the room. Foster is seated behind the large desk, one of his goons standing at the back of the chair.

  "If it isn't my favorite girl," Foster says, giving me a thorough once over. Surprisingly, I don't have the desire to cringe like I usually do. The only emotion I'm experiencing is hatred and it takes everything in me not to somersault over the desk and rip his throat out. When I don't reply, he turns his attention to Joy.

  "Well?" The other woman visibly recovers from whatever it is she’s thinking, and takes a step forward. I'm feeling serious waves of dislike radiating off her and when she glares over her shoulder, I realize they're aimed at me.

  She's jealous.

  I fail to hide my smile.

  "The report Lucas sent is solid. We've all went over the data and the more thorough test shows the same results. The drug in her system is adapting. She's here for the same reasons the others are."

  She stops talking, letting that sink in. Even hearing it a second time, my mind is still having trouble wrapping itself around it. I don't feel any different. I know I don't. So how can the drug truly be adapting and what does that mean for me?

  Foster leaves his chair behind, standing up, and walks over to stand in front of me. I'm happy to see that his movements are a lot more guarded than the last time I saw him. The wounds on his torso are still healing.

  "Tell me something Tasia, have you been experiencing outbursts of rage or sadness?" I guess the answer is written
on my face because he doesn't even wait for a response. "Good. Good."

  He turns to Joy, giving her a little pat on the cheek. "That'll be all for now." And just like that, she's dismissed. The look she gives me on the way out would burn down cities. Foster is not making this any easier for me.

  "Oh, and Joy. Can you let them know we're ready? Thanks, doll."

  The nickname definitely does wonders to soften her features. Wow, someone's got a serious case of hero worship. What that tells me is that there is no way Joy would ever give up Foster. I file that thought away for future reference. It's nice knowing what my options are.

  Then, I'm left alone with Foster. And one of his bodyguards. But really, can you blame him? I killed his last one. He's not about to trust me.

  "You know, I have to say that this is working out a lot better than I planned. I thought we'd have to go find you and bring you in, but you came strolling right into the neighborhood like you belong."

  "I couldn't stay away." I don't mean to say the words, but they come anyway. Confused, I'm glad Foster is walking around me so he doesn't see the expression on my face.

  "I did tell you once that you and I would have a special kind of a relationship. I'm glad I wasn't wrong." He comes to stand in front of me again, a pleased expression all over his face. The anger within me burns hot and before I can stop myself, I strike out.

  I punch him clear in the face, making him stumble back. I reach out to him again, but a gasp from behind me distracts me. I twist around and my heart drops at the sight.

  Blake.

  She stands with her hand over her mouth, gaping at what I've just done. There's fear in her eyes and absolutely no recognition. I stare at my sister, in every way but blood, as she watches me with terrified eyes. I take a step forward, watching her shrink against the door and my worst fear comes to life.

  She has no idea who I am.

  She has no idea who I am.

  She has no idea who I am.

  Foster starts to laugh, the sound vibrating off the walls around me.

  Blake has no idea who I am.

  * * *

  I was afraid of this.

  We all were.

  But I haven't allowed myself to believe it. I had to trust that I would get to her before it was too late.

  I didn't.

  It is too late.

  Foster doesn't say anything, walking over to stand beside Blake. He wipes at the blood pooling at his mouth, the grin that much more menacing with the red staining his teeth.

  "Blake, darling. Meet Tasia. She's new." Foster says, motioning Blake forward.

  She looks so scared of me, I've never seen that fear in her eyes before. Not even when I was off the deep end. She always trusted me. She always trustedin me. Between her and Calen, I was able to stay afloat.

  I'm not sure if I can stop myself from drowning now.

  The pressure in my head intensifies until the tears start pouring down my face. I wipe at them absently, trying to keep my gaze on Blake. The moment she sees my tears, her face softens. She takes a hesitant step forward, reaching out a hand to me.

  "Don't cry, Tasia," she says, running one of her hands up and down my arm. "We'll take a very good care of you here. You don't have to be afraid."

  Blake sounds like herself, and yet she doesn't. There's almost a robotic tint to her words and it crushes my heart all over again. Whatever lies they've implanted in her, she's swallowed them hook, line, and sinker.

  She has no control over her own thoughts, just rehearsed words they've made her believe. She's waiting for a response, so I do the only thing I can: I nod. The smile she gives me is blinding and my heart pings in awareness.

  This is not my Blake.

  I turn my attention to Foster, who's watching us with a smug look on his face. The hatred I feel for him and the company crashes over me like a wave. Everything in me wants to skin him alive, ripping each of his joints from his body.

  One by one by one.

  But before I can move, his bodyguard is there, holding on to my other arm. I know I can dispatch him in a matter of seconds, but with Blake watching my every move, I can't risk it. She'll never trust me if she sees me attack the people she's been told to trust. Besides, if I lose it right now, getting this far will turn out to be pointless.

  "Blake here is my personal assistant," Foster explains, as if I really care. Truth be told, I don't like the way he says assistant. I don't like the way he says her name. "We have set up an office onsite, in preparation for our mass distribution. I'm sure you've seen the news."

  The man holding down my arm is about to lose his. I'm boiling on the inside, my body shaking with rage. Foster walks over to Blake, putting his hand on her shoulder and if I don't get a hold of myself soon, blood will be staining this carpet any minute now.

  "Blake is great with PR. She's a natural born promoter. Get her on the phone and she can talk anyone into anything."

  Which is a truth I already know aboutmy Blake. The way she preens under his words though, is mind boggling. She's like a cat seeking attention. She's holding on to every word he's saying like he's the king of the world.

  "I had nowhere to go, really." Blake speaks up, turning her attention to me. "I just lost my job and didn't have a place to live when I met Katie. She told me about Kallos and how they were looking for PR specialist. So I applied. Couldn't hurt, right?" Her giggle sets my teeth on edge. "It's been amazing working here!"

  "How—" I gulp the disgust down. "How long have you been working here?"

  "Oh, just a week. But I've already got a handle on some pretty awesome accounts and I can't wait to see what else I can do." She turns back to Foster, a beaming smile splitting her face and it pains me to hear the little bits of the old Blake coming through. She's here, but she's so far away, at the same time.

  "You have been doing an amazing job. I'm sure Tasia will have a very nice time getting to know you. However, right now, we have some other things to take care of."

  I'm pretty sure Foster can tell just how minimal my self control is at this point. Sweat is now pooling at my back, and more is dripping down my face.

  "Of course," Blake replies, before turning to give me one last smile. "It was very nice to meet you, Tasia. I will see you later."

  "You too," I manage weakly, hoping she takes my lack of response for shyness instead of disregard. Once Blake is out of the room, I can't hold it together any longer.

  With one move, I twist around bringing my knee to my captors midsection. He doubles over, releasing my arm and I grab his face with both hands, smacking it directly into my knee. He falls to the ground, groaning and I turn, panting to stare at Foster.

  "I knew you weren't fully under control yet," the man comments, watching me like I'm a specimen under a microscope.

  And honestly, am I not? I'm trying to reel in my rage, but being in the room with him alone is hard. It takes everything in me not to just snap his neck right here and right now. But I know if I do, I will never get Blake out of here alive. More so, millions of people will still be influenced by Kallos experiments.

  I have a plan.

  I have to stick to that plan whatever the cost.

  I have to win.

  Taking a deep breath, I watch as Foster walks over to his fallen man. Kicking him with his leg, he turns him over and studies the damage I've done.

  "You are a very resourceful girl, Tasia. I'm glad you're here."

  That said, he walks around me, heading back to his desk. I'm still breathing hard, the adrenaline of the whole situation pumping through my system and I really wish he had another ten men, guarding him inside this room. I would be more than happy to work out my anger issues on them.

  "I also know that you have a plan," Foster continues, and I make myself concentrate on his words.

  "Why would you think that?"

  "Because I saw your reaction to Blake. There's no way you would just switch sides. The drug in your system is strong, and it's working in a way we haven
't seen before, so I'm curious. I'm curious to see where your plan leads you. But know this—" he leans forward, the shadows in the room making him seem that much more menacing. "You ARE working for ME now. You will listen to what I have to say and whatever your plan is, you'll fail. Just like you failed last time."

  At his words, the events on the docks play out in front of my eyes like a movie. I push it down, push the emotions down, before they can make themselves known. But I can't control it. I scream, stalking over to where Foster is standing, but he doesn't move. He doesn't even flinch. No one comes as the scream rips itself from inside of my very soul.

  The betrayal.

  The pain.

  The loss.

  It's all there, in this one sound. Foster watches me steadily, and then I'm taking a breath. Just like that. The loss of control only lasts a few seconds, but my body is exhausted.

  "I see you are progressing nicely," Foster says, cocking his head to the side. "You really have no idea, do you?"

  It's my turn to lean on the desk. I bow my head, trying to reach some sense of composure. I feel spent. Too many emotions running through me in the small period of time.

  "What have you done to me?" I whisper, unable to stop myself.

  "That is yet to be determined, Precious. But I will beat my life on the fact that you will be marvelous."

  The scary part is that I believe him.

  16.

  Foster doesn't give me any time to process or recover.

  He pushes a button on his desk, and the door behind me opens. The two men guarding the office walk in, with Joy on their heels. I'm too exhausted to even lift my head as Foster motions for the men to grab me. They're not as rough as I expect them to be, restraining me almost gently.

  "Make sure she get's lots of rest, Doll. There's much to do tomorrow." Foster instructs Joy, who in turn beams sunshine at him. When she turns back to me, the clouds dim the light. She's not watching me with hatred anymore, just suspicion. But I really can't be bothered with her emotional state right now, because I have my own to worry about.