“Put your weapons down,” he ordered, “or I’ll take him with me to whatever waits on the other side.”
Bridgette cracked her eyes open to see if the others would obey. One by one, the soldiers placed their guns on the floor. The last person to react was, of course, Roman, whose face gave nothing away, as if he were made of stone. But Bridgette wasn’t fooled. She could see the barely repressed fury in his eyes, his muscles even more tense than they had been before. Very slowly, he placed his gun on the floor, his eyes never leaving hers until he looked at the man pressed behind her, his words low and chilling. “I am going to make your death so unbelievably painful, you will be begging me for it.”
“All of you step away from your weapons, and line up against the wall,” the man said, ignoring Roman’s statement. Bridgette watched them follow his instructions, Roman never turning his back on them as he made his way over to the others. “If I hear any of you follow us down, I will not hesitate to blow his head off. Do you understand me?”
Bridgette held her breath, waiting for Roman’s reply. If looks could kill, the man behind her would be dead a thousand times over.
“I know your face now, rebel,” was Roman’s answer. “Pray we never meet again.”
Her body was pulled backwards as they took a step down. He continued to drag her that way, making a slow descent. When she finally felt her feet meet the level ground of the main floor, she let out a sigh of relief. The gun at her head was terrifying, her life so precariously hanging in the balance. It made her feel weak. She hated feeling weak.
You’re not, her inner voice reprimanded. You took down Roman, you can take down this a-hole. Of course she could, she thought. She didn’t need to go with him meekly. She could fight back, and show her father that she wasn’t to be used as some tool in his war whenever he felt like it. There was no doubt in her mind that this situation had her father’s signature all over it. That in itself made her mad enough to contemplate a move.
Fresh air hit her back, and she realized they were already out the front door. The two soldiers standing outside froze, unsure of what to do.
“Drop your weapons,” the man ordered. Hesitantly, they did as they were told, stepping back with their eyes glancing nervously between them. The man moved down the side of the building. Bridgette doubted he’d harm her, but then again she didn’t want to take a chance. If they got far enough away from the rest, he could do anything to her without help being close by. She had to make her move now.
On her next step backwards, she pretended to trip and his hold wavered. With her right arm, she elbowed him hard in the stomach. A satisfying grunt followed as he bent over slightly against the attack. Using the slack in his hold to her advantage, she spun around, throwing her forehead against his, just like she’d seen people do in the movies they used to watch before television became a thing of the past.
Surprisingly, it didn’t feel as cool as it looked. Her head throbbed from the impact, her ears ringing. It was effective enough though to cause the man to take a full step back, creating room between them now for her to get in some more hits. She twisted her body, spinning with a kick right into his ribcage. Using the momentum, she kicked out with her other leg in a backwards strike, hitting him in the left kneecap. He cried out a second before his gun went off.
Her head dodged to the right, and she could have sworn she felt the wind from the bullet as it flew by her ear. Bridgette heard a deep, male voice call out from inside the building, but she ignored it. She grabbed his arm holding the gun with her left hand, giving it a sharp twist at his wrist. He cried out again, buckling under the intense pressure. She used her right hand to chop at his forearm, causing him to release the gun. It clattered to the ground, and for the first time in the past five minutes, Bridgette breathed a little easier.
“Jesus, Bridgette,” he said, his voice tight with pain. “Let me go before the others come, or they’ll kill me.”
Bridgette gave him a hard look. “Don’t use my name like we know each other. Just because you work for my father, doesn’t make us friends. Understood?”
He nodded emphatically.
“Tell my father that I will not be some pawn he can move around the board as he wishes,” she said. “Anyone points a gun to my head again, and I won’t stop Roman from doing whatever it is he has planned. Got it?”
He nodded again.
She released him, making sure to kick his gun down the alley where he wouldn’t be able to reach it. “Go,” she ordered.
The man gave her a baffled look, before turning to run down and around the side of the building. She heard a loud scrapping sound echo off the bricks of the surrounding buildings, and immediately knew the man was disappearing through the sewer tunnels. Roman and his men would never find him now. Taking a deep breath, she looked down at her own hands in wonder. She had just totally kicked some guy’s ass! Laughter bubbled up her throat, and soon she couldn’t stop the giggles that erupted.
Footsteps sounded behind her. She turned to see Roman leading the rest of the men, his mouth tight with worry. The smile on her face practically stretched her cheeks to the point where they hurt. She felt invigorated! Strong, independent, and somewhat bad-ass! Charlotte would be proud of her, she thought with glee. An abundance of energy rushed through her body, completely high on the adrenaline rush.
“Are you okay?” Roman asked, the second he reached her.
“Are you kidding?” she asked, smiling like an idiot. “I totally kicked his ass! You should have seen it!” She bounced on the pads of her feet like she had in the gym, her excitement was unstoppable. Without thinking, she flung her arms around Roman’s neck in a tight hug. He hesitated for only a moment before his arms came around her, pulling her close.
Bridgette felt the tension slowly leave his body as he bent his head, burying his face against her neck. She found herself stroking his back reassuringly.
“You scared the shit out of me,” he said softly, his voice muffled by her hood. “I heard the gun go off and thought the worst.”
She continued patting him, letting him know she was there. “I’m fine,” she replied. “He didn’t even get a scratch on me.”
The other soldiers moved around them like they weren’t even there. Bridgette heard them run down the alley, but knew there would be nothing there for them to find.
Roman lifted his head, forcing her to angle hers up to look at him. “Good work, X,” he said with a smile.
“Thanks,” she said quietly, the pride and respect shining through his eyes knocking the breath out of her.
“He’s gone, sir,” someone said.
Roman looked at her for a second, before finally dropping his arms and taking a step back. The softness in his face disappeared as he looked at the others, back to Ludwig’s second hand.
“Everyone head to headquarters. I’ll file the report when we’ve gotten some rest.”
As soon as Bridgette was back in her room, she stripped out of her clothes and fell into bed. Her body felt boneless, exhausted from the day’s events. Sleep would not be an issue this time. Closing her eyes, she sank deeper beneath the covers, her mind going back to the feeling of being embraced against the hardness of Roman’s body. She fell asleep.
Douglas Hatcher watched the whole thing from where he was hidden. Anticipation and interest vibrated through every inch of his body. What he had just witnessed was something he’d never expected. Bridgette had moved effortlessly, her movements smooth and graceful. Her strikes had been precise and with enough strength to injure a man who was considerably bigger than her.
Was it possible? Had he overlooked his eldest child, thinking it didn’t take like it had Charlotte? It was most definitely a possibility, he decided. Bridgette would never have fought like that in the past, meaning he would have never witnessed the skills she possessed. This whole time he had thought her a failure. In reality, it was that she’d never been in a situation where her talents were displayed.
A slow smile
spread across his face, his eyes watching as the soldiers ran into the alley. Bridgette hadn’t just moved like a professional, she’d been extremely fast. It was almost hard to catch all her moves as she’d spun and twisted. He’d had another weapon at his disposal this whole time, and never knew it. Well now he did, and it wouldn’t be put to waste.
“General?” John said from behind him. Douglas grunted in response. “We have Adam, sir.”
“Good,” he said. “Get everyone underground, we need to lay low for a couple of days.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And John?”
“Sir?”
“Contact the council members. Tell them I need to meet with them as soon as possible. Something very important has just come to my attention, and I think we need to re-evaluate our plans.”
“Of course, General. If they ask, what plans exactly are you referring to?” John asked.
“The bomb. I think we should consider pulling Bridgette out,” he replied, not expanding on that statement. “And increase the search for Charlotte. I want her back.”
John said something in return, but Douglas was already lost in his thoughts. He would have his weapons back under his control. And then Ludwig Tennebris would finally be taken down.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was already noon by the time she woke up. Roman told her the previous night – morning really – that they would meet in Ludwig’s office. Bridgette headed that way when she was finished getting ready, feeling rather good, surprisingly, considering she hadn’t gotten much sleep.
When she walked into the office, her feet froze just inside. Ludwig stood with his back to her, looking out the floor to ceiling windows. Bridgette did a quick scan of the room for anyone else, confirming it was just her there.
She was alone with Ludwig Tennebris.
She must have made some sort of noise, because Ludwig’s head snapped around, his eyes instantly focusing on her.
“Dinah,” he greeted, with a genuine smile that caught her off guard. He walked over, stopping just in front of her, lifting his hands to cup her face. The coolness of his skin soaked into hers through the fabric of her mask. His eyes regarded her closely, concern etched in his features. “Are you okay?”
“Why –” her voice cracked. She cleared it awkwardly before continuing, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He chuckled. “Dinah, you were almost killed twice yesterday. I think that would be stressful for anyone, including you.” He was smiling, but she could see a hard look in his eyes that spoke of anger. Was it at her? Or at the fact she was almost shot twice? He answered her inner questions a second later. “I swear, if they had succeeded, I would have burned the whole city down until I killed every last one of them.”
Then he did the most unexpected thing – he hugged her. Before she could even react, she felt herself being pulled into his embrace. Her hands hung loosely at her sides, too shocked to return the gesture. He leaned back after only a moment, his hands now gripping her upper arms.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said.
“Thanks,” she replied. He turned and walked over to where a few chairs sat around the large hearth at the far end of the room. After hesitating for a second, Bridgette followed him, taking a seat across from his. An array of fruits, breads, and butter were sitting on a tray on the table between them. Her mouth watered at the thought of food.
“Are you hungry?”
“Not really.” She was starving. But to eat would mean taking off her mask, so that was out of the question.
“I was only joking before, you know,” he said, catching her attention.
She tilted her head. “About what?”
He laughed. “About you gaining weight. I was kidding, so please don’t start dieting and acting silly about it like some other women do.”
He wasn’t joking, she thought. If he had keen eyes, he definitely would have noticed that she was heavier than her sister. Charlotte was skin and bones, in a nice willowy sort of way. It wasn’t that she looked unhealthy or anything, but she definitely didn’t have the same sort of curves that Bridgette had.
“Don’t worry,” she said, forcing herself to sound amused and at ease. “I have no plans on dieting – ever.”
He laughed again. “That’s my girl. So what’s your take on last night’s events?”
Crap. He wanted her opinion? Shifting in her seat, she struggled to gather her thoughts. “Well,” she started, “I’d say it was just the rebel’s attempt at taking out the two biggest players in the game, next to you.” She shrugged. “A poor attempt at that,” she added.
He nodded in agreement. “Roman says you saved his life up on the roof.”
She stilled, not expecting that. “Have you already seen him this morning?” Why did she just ask that? Filter, Bridgette, she scolded herself.
“He was here earlier, but he’s gone to take care of a few things for me,” Ludwig answered. She searched his face for any hint of suspicion as to why she’d be interested, but none was there. Of course not, she thought. They were all friends, had been for five years now.
She breathed a little easier sitting back in her seat. “I just happened to hear something and reacted,” she said, shrugging it off as nothing.
“Well it’s a good thing one of you has their head on straight.”
“Can I ask you something?” she said, sitting forward. Her mouth was getting away on her again, but the question was already out there so she figured she might as well go with it.
“Of course.”
“Why are you so protective of me?” Bridgette couldn’t understand this man; see the reason behind his obvious concern for Charlotte’s well-being. Why would the man who was responsible for killing billions, be so defensive of one girl? She understood that Charlotte’s ability was something that he used to his advantage often, but she got the sense that Ludwig genuinely liked her sister. It didn’t mesh with her idea of him in her head.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, turning his body so they faced each other. His brows were puckered in confusion, and she was worried suddenly that she might have offended him.
“I just sometimes wonder what made you keep me all these years,” she said.
“Your talents aside, I value what you bring to the table. You’re an intelligent young woman, and your ideas and opinions are always logical. I can count on you to keep a cool head in difficult situations. I’ve learned over the years that it’s not easy to find people you can really count on, or connect with on an intellectual level. I enjoy listening to what you have to say, otherwise I wouldn’t ask for your thoughts.” He watched her closely as she accepted what he was saying. Bridgette could see why someone like Ludwig would gravitate toward a girl like Charlotte, now that he had explained it that way. Charlotte always was level-headed and smart. “Plus,” he continued, turning his head away from her to stare into the empty hearth, “when Roman came to me with you, you had no one. I like to think we’ve grown to be a sort of family over the past years. Sometimes the family you chose is much better than the one you’re born with.” He’d met her eyes again when he said that last statement. He looked at her pointedly, as though trying to communicate something he wasn’t saying out loud.
“Thank you, for always taking care of me,” she said, finally finding her voice beneath the emotion clogging her throat. She meant it, despite whom she was talking to. If it weren’t for Ludwig Tennebris, who knows what would have happened to her sister all those years ago.
They both looked into the fire, lost in thoughts neither would say out loud. Finally Ludwig said, “Did I ever tell you that I knew your father?”
“No,” she said, looking over at him. He didn’t meet her eyes as he continued to speak.
“He worked for me actually, quite a long time ago now.”
“Worked for you where?”
He turned now to face her. “Do you know what your father did for a living?”
Bridgette thought about it. Sure, he’d go to w
ork…she stopped. What did he do for a living? She’d never thought about it before, but now that he mentioned it, she had no idea where their father went to work back then. “He said he worked in a factory, I think,” she said, digging through her memories. “I don’t know what kind though.”
He grunted. “Your father is both one of the most brilliant men, and most insane men I’ve ever known. You do realize he is most likely the General the rebels referred to?”
Bridgette laughed humourlessly. “I’d say that’s a safe assumption.”
“Did you ever hear anything that would confirm it?”
She shook her head. “No, but my gut says it’s him.” Gut, indeed, she thought grimly.
“You know, my father wasn’t an easy man, by any means. He was tough on me growing up, always pushing me to be better and reach higher than the other children. But the one thing I can say about him, and truly mean, is that I knew him. He didn’t hide any aspect of himself from me. I understood exactly the kind of man that he was. And I knew he loved me – in his own way.” He turned his body so he faced her better. “How well can you say you knew your father?”
She swallowed against the dryness in her mouth. His eyes challenged her to really think about it, so she did. Despite Ludwig’s reputation, Bridgette was learning quickly that he was quite an engaging person. When he spoke, she paid attention. When he questioned her, she wanted to give the best answer she could. He kept her on her toes. It was no wonder Charlotte had kept his company for so long. Bridgette had no doubt her sister found this man quite intriguing.
“Honestly?”
He nodded.
“I doubt I knew him at all.”
He smiled, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “I’d say I’d have to agree with you there.”
“What did he do to you to make you hate him so much?” she asked.
He rubbed his chin, weighing his words. “Let’s just say, he stole something from me.”
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