Scarred by Vengeance (Titanium Book 2)

by Valia Lind

  "This way."

  The man talking to Joy motions me over to them. I follow him down a hallway, making sure to look every person I pass in the eye. Memorizing their faces for future reference, I feel a pang in my chest.

  Normally, I would transfer the information over to Calen and we'd go over names and faces I've encountered. Now I'm on my own. I can't rely on Calen or Uncle Freddie anymore and that hurts more than I thought it could.

  We walk into another large room, this one set up more like a lab. Foster is already there, looking over some paperwork in his hands. I'm surprised. I guess I've expected him to be more of an overseer than an actual participant in his work.

  "Miss Snow, good. You're here. Take a seat," Foster instructs, pointing to the chair in front of him. I glance at Joy, but she's already walking out of the room.

  Well, alrighty then.

  I take a seat, watching Foster expectantly. After another full minute he puts the papers down and looks up at me.

  "I hope you slept well." For some reason, I think he knows that I didn't. I'm not sure how I know it, but I'm almost 100% positive. There’s a gleam of something in his eye that makes me uncomfortable. When I don't reply, he continues.

  "We'll have to run a few tests before we can proceed. You understand, don't you?" This, I definitely expected. Foster motions to one of the other people in the room without waiting for my response. A man in a lab coat walks over, pulling out a syringe. He goes through the same motions Lucas did just yesterday, except now they take four vials of blood. By the time he's done, I'm exhausted. One of the other women in the room walks over and hands me a cup of water. Both of the lab coats move away, leaving me sipping at the liquid.

  As I sit there, Foster walks over to the other side of the room, checking something on his phone. I'm a little baffled by my own reactions to...everything. The typical rage that I've learned to live with is still there, but it's dimmer than I'm used to.

  As I watch Foster move around the room, I still want to kill him, but at the same time I don't. I shake my head at the offending thoughts. I can't lose sight of my mission. No matter what.

  "Tasia."

  The voice comes from behind me and I shut my eyes against the sound. I don't turn around, but wait for him to come closer. Foster looks up from his phone as Logan makes his way into the room, his eyes flicking between me and him. I'm glad I can look at Logan without blowing a gasket, because that would seriously ruin the credibility I'm trying to work up here.

  "Sir?" Logan addresses Foster, turning his attention away from me. I try not to let it show just how much his presence is unnerving me, but I'm sure I'm failing. I'm not exactly a hundred percent right now, with all this blood they’ve taken out of my system.

  "Logan, yes. I need you to go to the downtown office today and pick up the papers Lucy has prepared. I also need you to oversee the shipment coming in." Logan nods in response and for some reason I feel like he's watching me out of the corner of his eye, waiting for some kind of a reaction. I pretend indifference, but everyone in the room can tell it's just that: pretending.

  "Miss Snow will go with you."

  "What?!" Logan and I exclaim at the same time. Foster's face splits into a cheshire cat smile and the need for violence rises within me. Images of me ripping his skin off his body flash vividly in front of my eyes. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my rage, but it's getting more difficult by the second.

  "Are either one of you seriously going to question me?" Foster levels us with a look and my rage turns on him instantly. I hate this. I hate this so much that it's burning a whole in whatever is left of my soul.

  I want to burn this place to the ground.

  With Foster bleeding inside.

  "Tasia." Logan says my name quietly and just like that, I'm back. I shake my head in Foster's direction, showing him that I won't disobey.

  "No, Sir." Logan replies audibly.

  "Good. Now get going."

  He doesn't wait for a response, but goes back to whatever he was doing on his phone earlier. I look over at Logan, who's now staring at the floor like he's trying to come to terms with the fact that we have to spend time together. Then, he turns to me, motioning in the direction of the door.

  "Ready?" He asks, all business.

  Fine. Two can play that game. If he wants to act like strangers, then we can act like strangers. Slowly, I slide off the stool I'm seated in and move toward the door. With a backward glance, I take in the lab one more time. The spotless counters, the equipment, the white lab coats. It all looks like a set from a movie. Foster is watching us as we leave, a pleased expression on his face.

  I'm really going to enjoy ending that man's life when the time comes.

  * * *

  No one stops us as we head outside and I guess I was expecting someone to say something.

  It still feels unnatural to me, to be here and to be part of the team, sort of, so to speak. Logan is driving a Buick Enclave and I can't resist making a comment.

  "Playing for the bad team pays well, doesn't it?" I ask as we get into the car. I’m feeling a little more steady on my feet now, even thought I’m missing quite a bit of blood. The vehicle is just as beautiful on the inside as it is on the outside, and for a moment, I really miss my own car.

  A 1967 Chevy Impala.

  My baby.

  I call him Dean (clearly).

  I don't even care that people say cars are female. Mine is definitely male. Just as ruggedly handsome and difficult as any male in my life. Logan doesn't make a comment to my question until we're outside of the community. Then, he pushes a few buttons on the touch screen and glances over at me.

  "What you're doing is stupid."

  "What I'm doing is none of your business." I turn away to stare out the window, folding my arms in front of me.

  "This isn't going to end well, Tasia." His tone is pleading, but I refuse to be pulled into his charms. Been there, done that. I have scars to prove it.

  "That's not really for you to decide, is it?"

  "Don't be dumb."

  "Stop telling me just how stupid I am!" I shout, finally turning to face him. "You don't get to make judgements. You don't get to express your opinion. You lost that privilege when you gave me up to the enemy."

  "You don't knowanything." He grinds out between his teeth and my anger goes up a few notches. If he doesn't pull the car over soon, we're going to have a problem with me punching him in the face and us crashing head first into a building.

  "Then enlighten me, Mr. Wentworth."

  "Tasia—"

  "No, you keep saying there are all these reasons for what you did and yet, you've told me nothing. The only thing I've ever gotten from you are the cuts and bruises on my body."

  I will not cry.

  I will not.

  I—.

  The tears come before I can stop them, so I turn away, hoping he doesn't notice. I don't even know why I'm crying. I hate all of these emotions. I wish I could just turn them all off.

  "Anastasia."

  "Stop," I whisper when I feel him reaching out to me. I didn't even notice him pull the car off the road, but we are now parked somewhere on the highway. I missed us leaving town.

  "Anastasia."

  "Stop saying my name," I say, keeping my attention on the trees outside of the car. I can't allow myself to waver. But his voice has that pull that I've never been able to resist. It's what got me in trouble in the first place. When he reaches out to take my hand, I let him.

  He pushes my fingers apart until his own palm fits securely against mine. He wraps my hand in his, running his thumb over my skin. I watch as it makes patterns, sending shivers up my arm. There's so much I want to say to him, so many answers I want to demand, but there's still only one that really plagues me.

  "Was it real?" I ask so quietly I'm afraid he won't hear it. I'm afraid he will. I don't want to be that girl, the one that second guesses everything, but I'm in no position to trust. Anyone. There's nothing
left in my life that's been untouched by deceit and destruction.

  No part of my soul that's been left unscarred.

  I don't think he'll answer me and maybe that's for the best. Would his betrayal hurt that much more if I know the truth? Or less? I don't believe in goodness of man. I never have. My life has proved me right in that regard.

  But he does answer. And it's everything, in this one word.

  "Yes."

  *

  *

  *

  *

  *

  *

  *

  My mind goes completely blank. I don't know how to come back from that. I don't know how to reply. I don't know what to ask. I have no manual for this kind of a thing, no rules to follow. But really, there's only one thing I can follow that up with, "Why?"

  "It's complicated."

  "People always use that as an excuse to stay away from unrealistic excuses. You hurt me. You betrayed me and my family. How’s anything more complicated than that?" I still haven't looked at him, because I'm afraid if I do, the last of my self-control will crumble. Not that I have any left.

  Logan takes a deep breath, as if coming to a decision. Just like that, I know he's going to explain. At least, partially.

  "You're right. It is an excuse. But I don't think I can really tell you anything until the drug is out of your system."

  "What?" I look at him then, my surprise must be plainly displayed on my face. He looks back at me, almost sad. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, that you're already displaying signs of loyalty to Foster. If I start explaining things to you, who's to say that you won't turn around and tell him all of my secrets?"

  "You can't be serious."

  But he is. I can see the resolve in his eyes, the truth behind his words.

  "You don't trust me."

  The statement rings out in the space around us and it's never tasted more like the truth.

  "You don't trust me." I repeat, amazed.

  "There's so much more to this than I can explain to you, Anastasia. But right now, you're vulnerable. I can't put you in any more danger. I won't."

  "Always with the protecting," I don't mean to say the words out loud but there they are. He squeezes my hand a little, as if in reassurance.

  "I will always protect you, Anastasia." And for some reason, I believe him. When I look up into his eyes, there's nothing there but the truth of his words.

  "I don't believe in knights in shining armor, Logan. I'm not a princess in need of saving. I can take care of myself."

  "It doesn't matter what you believe, the truth still stands. You can hate me. You can mistrust me. But I will always be on your side. Always."

  I want to believe him. I want this to be true, but the sting of his lies are still as fresh as they were two weeks ago. I can't just forget all that he's done, the way he put me in danger, that he put me in this position in the first place.

  I nod my head, disentangling my hand from his before I fall into whatever trap he's weaving. That's the only way I can think of him now; as a snake. He can make anything sound charming and still be the one to squeeze the life from my limbs if I trust him.

  "You still don't believe me."

  "I probably never will again," I reply honestly, as he puts his hands back on the steering wheel. Exhaling loudly, I watch as he shuts his eyes against my words, before turning to look at me once more.

  "I still say it's stupid for you to be around Foster."

  "Well, this argument we can definitely have, but once again, I don't care what you think. They have Blake. They made her into one of their machines, and while I want to get her out right now, I can't. The mass distribution has to be stopped and then I'll get Blake out. That's the plan."

  "And what about in between? What about you?"

  "What happens to me doesn't matter." I reply, turning to look out the window as Logan pulls the car back into the lane.

  "It matters to me. It matters to Calen and Blake and your uncle."

  "Don't bring them into this." I reply, hotly. "I'm doing it for them."

  "So what? Your plan is to work on Foster’s side until he trusts you? And then what? What are you trying to accomplish?"

  "He already trusts me, because I'm acting like the good little science experiment he expects me to be. Do you know the schematics of this distribution? Do you know how to stop it?"

  "No. He hasn't exactly shared his deepest and darkest with me lately. He doesn't trust me either, Tasia."

  "Then we need to work together to make that happen and then we destroy the whole company. If we can make the fallout big enough, there won't be enough money or connections for him to pool together to get back into good graces with the public. That's his big winning strategy right now. People love him and people love Kallos. We shatter that illusion and we win."

  "So how is working for Foster going to make that happen?" I open my mouth to reply, then shut it with force.

  WHY AM I TELLING HIM THIS?

  I just spilled my whole plan to him like he's still part of it.

  Shaking my head, I try to keep my thoughts organized, but I can't.

  I want to tell him my plans.

  I want to keep talking to him.

  He's like an addiction I can't shake.

  "Tasia?"

  "I've told you more than enough," I snap, keeping my eyes forward. I can't believe I've become this weak. I have to regain control. I can't allow myself to trust him.

  "I'm going to help you. Even when you think I'm against you, I'll be helping you. Just remember that."

  I don't reply.

  I don't look in his direction.

  I don't allow myself to hope.

  Hope sickens my heart. It makes me weaker. It makes me human.

  No more hope.

  Just hate.

  That's what I have to focus on.

  We don't speak the rest of the way into the city.

  18.

  Logan maneuvers his way through traffic like a pro.

  As I watch him drive, I realize. I've never asked him how long he's been here or how he knows the city so well, but why should I? Our relationship was never give and take, it was more just take on his part.

  He needed information.

  He needed my trust.

  He needed to know my plans.

  That's that.

  Of course, that’s not exactly true. He gave me little pieces of himself, he held me when I cried, he helped me come to terms with who I am. I can't fault him for everything he's done, but I want to. That's why I focus on his betrayal. It's easier to hate him.

  When Kallos Enterprises comes into sight, Logan breaks the silence.

  "Once we're out of the car, they'll be able to monitor anything we say or do. The cloaking I turned on only works inside the car. If there's anything you want to say to me that you don't want them to hear, now would be the time."

  I turn to look at him as he parks his car in the designated spot. He looks like he belongs here.

  Behind the wheel of this fancy car.

  Dressed in a suit.

  Working for a major corporation.

  "Just do you job, Logan. Don't worry about me," I state, reaching for the door handle.

  "I always worry about you,” he says almost too quietly for me to hear.

  But not quite. I refuse to show a reaction to his words, so instead I get out, slamming the door shut behind me. When I don't hear a sound, I turn to see Logan staring at me through the windshield. I raise my eyebrows in question, but he just shakes his head and gets out.

  "Are you done with the silent treatment?" He asks, coming up to stand beside me. I level him with my best glare, before turning the expression to a big smile.

  “Awesome,” he says, rolling his eyes in my direction. I see the flecks of amusement in them and the sight makes my heart thud in awareness.

  There's always been that special something between Logan and me...

  Hormones!

  I'm go
ing with hormones on that one.

  Shaking my head to disperse the too pleasant and confusing thoughts, I follow Logan inside the building. It's funny how the last time I was here, I was testing Foster. Now, he’s testing me. But I guess that's the only way our little association works. I'm never going to stop trying to destroy him and he's never going to stop using me for his own sick games.

  Yay us.

  Logan and I walk through security without any problems. I've obviously been approved by the higher ups because no one questions my presence. Logan and I are inside the elevator and moving upward, without saying one word to each other. I think that's how I like it, the quietness of the moment, the fact that we don’t have to fill it with conversation.

  I think.

  Because clearly I have to make a decision not to like it.

  What is wrong with me? My thoughts are so all over the place, and so out of control, I can't find an anchor to anything. I don't even sound like myself in my own head. I'm not worried about theright things.

  I'm—.

  "We're here," Logan says, and only then do I realize that we've stopped and he's standing in front of the elevator doors, preventing them from closing. "You okay?" He whispers in my ear as I walk past. Not trusting my own voice, I nod.

  Nothing seems like what I've planned and I can't come to terms with what’s going on inside me.

  The floor we get off on is the one I traveled to when I came to meet with Foster. It seems like it was years ago, instead of months. So much has changed in such a short period of time.

  "Logan!" the secretary's voice breaks through my thoughts and I'm instantly reacting to her cheerfulness. I give her a thorough once over, cataloguing her features.

  Age: 21.

  Height: 5’5.

  Weight: 130.

  First knee jerk reaction: a need to maim.

  Well, aren't I the ever cheerful one? There's an expression on her face I don't like when it comes to Logan so when she steps closer, I reach over and entwine my fingers through his. The secretary visibly stumbles at my gesture and when my lips curve in a smile, I realize it's genuine.