“Hey,” he said, closing the door behind him.
“You can tell me,” she said, her brow furrowed. “Whatever it is, I can handle it.”
Now, Conrad did smile. “I know you can,” he said, walking toward her. “You’re one of the strongest people I know.” He pulled her to him and brushed a kiss against her temple. “Come on,” he said, leading her toward the couch. “You want to sit down for this.”
Gwynn felt her anxiety spike, but she sat cross-legged on one end of the couch, her back resting against the arm of the couch. She faced Conrad directly, waiting for him to speak.
“It’s what we thought. More or less,” he said. “She was being forced to follow that man—Hastings—the entire time she was gone. She was a victim.” He hesitated, wondering how much of Stella’s story he should repeat to her mother. “She didn’t tell me everything, but he made her do a lot of terrible things. She feels a lot of guilt.”
Stella’s eyes closed, and she took a shaky breath. “If that bastard wasn’t dead already,” she said in a hard voice.
“I know,” Conrad said. “I had the same thought when she was telling me what she went through. I’m just glad he can’t hurt her anymore. Apparently, once he was sure he had her under his total control, he made her bring him into the compound. She had orders to find Declan and kill him. She didn’t know who he was or why she was supposed to kill him. She just had a name and a photo.”
Gwynn’s brow wrinkled in thought. “Declan?” she asked. “I wonder why.”
Conrad shook his head and shrugged. “We may never know. She didn’t know if those orders came from Ephraim or if it was all Hastings, but she said she never actually saw Ephraim during her time there.”
Gwynn unfolded her legs from beneath her and brought her knees up near her face. She wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees, thinking. Conrad watched her face as she thought over what he’d told her. He remained silent for a few minutes, waiting for her to speak. He knew how her mind worked and she was probably wondering what horrible things her daughter had been forced to endure—or worse, commit. For someone like Stella, hurting an innocent person was far worse than any injury that could be done to her. He couldn’t imagine what she was going through now that she was no longer under that control.
Gwynn sighed and reached a hand toward him. Conrad took it in his own and gave it a little squeeze. “Is she going to be okay?” she asked him in a whisper.
Conrad looked from their joined hands to Gwynn’s face. He wouldn’t lie to her. “I don’t know. I hope so. She needs to know she’s safe. She needs time. And we just have to be here for her.” He moved closer to her on the couch and straightened her legs, laying them across his own. His hand lightly stroked her calf as he spoke. “I’ll make sure everyone knows she isn’t to blame. That she was never a traitor. She’s being released tomorrow morning. She wanted to stay one more night.”
Gwynn nodded, but her mind was somewhere else, wondering what her daughter had been going through while those who loved her had believed her dead. A dozen dark and disturbing images flashed into her thoughts and she tried to push them away. It hurt too much to imagine. Instead, she focused on another thought. She looked back to Conrad.
“I wonder why Declan was the target,” she said, surprising him with the sudden change of subject. “He’s new here, not high ranking. He’s smart and a good agent, but he’s no more special than anyone else here. Why him?”
Conrad shook his head. “I don’t know. I keep thinking back to those files. It’s all got to be connected somehow. I just wish we knew how.”
Gwynn only nodded, thoughtful.
Chapter Ten
Conrad and Gwynn approached the outer door to Stella’s holding cell early the next morning. Most of the active agents would be in training, so there wouldn’t be a lot of people clogging the hallways. Conrad imagined that Stella wouldn’t want crowds of people staring at her. He acknowledged the guard at the door with a nod.
“You’re dismissed,” he told the young man. “Stella Donnelly is no longer a prisoner. I’m sure you’ve heard that we confirmed her innocence.”
“Yes, sir,” he said with a dip of his head. He turned to Gwynn and smiled. “I’m glad.”
She returned the smile. “Thank you.”
Gwynn could feel a storm of nerves roiling within her and tried to calm herself. She’d come to visit Stella every day since she’d been brought to this cell, but her daughter had refused to speak to her. She tried not to take it personally, but it hurt. Now though, she didn’t know what to expect. Stella had spoken to Sawyer, Rowan and even Conrad in the last two days. Gwynn wondered if she would finally speak to her now that she was no longer a prisoner. She took a deep breath as Conrad reached for the cell door. The two of them stepped into the small observation room.
Stella sat on the cot, facing the window. Gwynn’s eyes immediately locked onto her daughter’s and she felt a rush of emotion. She still found it hard to believe that Stella was here. She’d spent so many months living with the truth of her death, reminding herself that she was gone and feeling that pain hit her all over again each time. Now, she had to keep reminding herself that Stella was alive. She gave her a tentative smile, but Stella looked away. Conrad moved to the heavy steel door and used a large key to unlock it. The door swung inward and he stepped back, but Stella didn’t make a move to stand. She sat, unmoving on the bed, eyes on the floor. Her hands gripped the edge of the mattress and she looked as though she had no plans to move from that spot.
“Stella?” Gwynn said her daughter’s name in a cautious tone as she stepped through the doorway and into the small cell. She hadn’t realized how claustrophobic the cell was until she was inside it. She hated that Stella had been forced to live in this tiny room for the last month. Stella still hadn’t looked up from the floor and Gwynn wondered if she’d even heard her speak her name. She tried again.
“Stella, it’s over. You don’t have to stay here anymore.” When Stella didn’t acknowledge her, Gwynn walked over and knelt on the floor directly in front of her. “Hey,” she said, reaching a hand out to touch her chin. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
As if the words and the gentle touch flipped a switch inside her, Stella’s eyes rose to meet hers and Gwynn felt her heart nearly break at the pain she saw there.
“Mom.” The single word from Stella seemed to burrow into Gwynn’s heart and she couldn’t hold back her tears any longer. She pulled Stella to her in a hug and they clung to one another as their emotions swamped them.
Conrad and Gwynn decided to bring Stella back to their quarters. The logistics of where she would stay now that she’d returned hadn’t really been addressed yet. Now, they realized they needed to figure out those details. Stella hadn’t lived with her mother for a long time. She’d moved into her own place 3 years before her disappearance. Her quarters had remained untouched for several months after her death, but eventually Gwynn and Rowan went about the task of cleaning out the rooms. They kept a lot of her things, unable to part with all the memories of the person they loved. In reality, Stella hadn’t spent a lot of time in her own quarters in the months leading up to her disappearance. She’d practically lived with Rowan and the two of them had even discussed moving her things into his place permanently. Still, it had been difficult to box up her belongings and put them away. It had somehow made everything feel so final. Neither of them had gone back to those rooms since the day they’d taken the last boxes out.
As she followed Gwynn and Conrad through the door into her childhood home, Stella’s eyes roamed over the room, noting the things that had changed and those that were familiar. She felt awkward and out of place, though she’d grown up in this place. She’d lived here with her mother from her earliest memories. Conrad had moved in when she’d been a teenager and the three of them had been a family. Lydia was already married to Rafe by then. The two of them frequently came over for dinner and the room would fill with loud vo
ices and laughter. They’d been happy, for all that they’d never known a life without war. All of these memories rushed through her in the few seconds it took her to walk to the couch. She turned in a slow circle as she surveyed the living area. Conrad and her mom watched her as though waiting for something. She couldn’t help but wonder if they were waiting for her to melt down.
“We kept most of your stuff,” her mom was saying. “We moved it into your old room but then we needed a place for James to stay, so…” her voice trailed off and Stella understood that her old bedroom now belonged to her nephew.
“It’s okay,” she said.
“We have all the boxes in storage,” Gwynn said quickly. “I’m glad I was too sentimental to get rid of your things.” She tried to smile.
Conrad spoke now. “I’ll start bringing up the boxes this morning,” he said. “You can stay here as long as you want. Or I can arrange to have everything moved into your old place. It’s completely up to you.”
Stella felt overwhelmed with the idea of making even that simple decision. After so many months of having her every move dictated to her, she didn’t know how she was supposed to go back to normal. It would take time, she knew. That’s what she told herself as her mother and Conrad waited for her answer.
“That’s fine,” she said, still aware that her voice seemed to be missing any sort of emotion. “I can go back to my old quarters. I don’t want to be in the way. And James is probably dealing with enough already.”
Gwynn’s brows drew together, and she shook her head, but it was Conrad who spoke. “This is your home, Stella,” he said firmly. “You belong here as much as any of us and you are not in the way. I meant what I said. You can stay here as long as you’d like. We’re your family and you don’t have to be alone anymore.”
Stella felt a surge of emotion at his words. He’d been the closest thing she’d had to a father and she knew he cared for her, even if the two of them had never actually said the words aloud.
“Thank you,” she said. “Maybe just for a few days, while I get used to…everything.”
She still found herself surprised at the direction things had taken. She’d spent months in a fog, under someone else’s control. When she’d been able to think at all, she’d been convinced she’d die there in that place. She never imagined she’d see her home or her family again. Now that she was here and no longer in a cell, she wasn’t sure what was expected of her. Was she supposed to go back to her life before she’d been taken? She didn’t know if that was possible.
As she stood there in her childhood home, memories from more than twenty years surrounding her, Stella felt an almost overwhelming need to get out. She’d spent months locked in one tiny room or another and now that she was free, she felt trapped. Her heart began to beat faster, and she struggled to control her breathing. She looked at her mother, afraid that Gwynn would see the panic in her eyes. Surprisingly, it was Conrad who seemed to pick up on her unease.
“You don’t have to decide anything right now, Stella,” he said, his voice a soothing balm to her rioting emotions. “Your mom and I are going to go see to some work in my office, but you know where to find us if you need us. We’ll be back in a few hours, but you aren’t confined here. You can go anywhere in the compound.”
Stella knew he meant his words to be comforting and, in a way, they were. What he couldn’t know was that it wasn’t the idea of being confined that bothered her. It was the idea of being free. Having the power to make her own decisions was oddly terrifying and she didn’t understand it. But she said none of that. She forced her lips to curl slightly at the corners into what she hoped was a smile. Then she nodded her understanding. Her mother’s face was less certain, but she let Conrad lead her from the room, shutting the door behind them.
The silence settled in after their departure and Stella found it strangely comforting. She’d spent the last month hearing nothing but the sound of her own breathing. She stood unmoving for several minutes after they left, wondering what to do next. She didn’t think she could go out into the compound—at least not anytime soon. She wasn’t ready to face crowds of people and she certainly wasn’t ready for them to see her. She imagined the looks on the faces of those who might blame her for Lydia’s death and she knew she wasn’t ready for that. For now, she decided to stay here and find a way to be comfortable in her own skin.
“What do you think of her?” Jon asked before taking a bite of his toast.
“It’s hard to say,” Bree said. “I mean, it’s been a week and I think I’ve seen her once. Can’t say I blame her. I can’t imagine it’s easy being back here.” She used her coffee mug to gesture at the walls around her. “There’s not a lot of privacy in a place this size. After what Stella’s been through, I can understand her wanting to hide.”
Jon nodded and swallowed his food. “She’s been through a lot. I’m amazed she’s doing as well as she is, considering.” His brow furrowed. “I wonder how the rest of the team is handling it. It’s different for us because we never knew her before.” He looked around the table at Bree, Rylee and Declan. The four of them were eating breakfast at Rylee and Jon’s place. They’d made it a sort of tradition on their off-days.
“For everyone else though,” Jon went on, “It’s got to be hard. From all the stories I heard about Stella, she was outgoing, laughed a lot, everyone liked her. After what she’s been through, I can’t imagine how that’s changed her. It’s got to be hard for the people who love her.”
Declan nodded. “I know what you mean,” he said. “I’ve wondered about it too. It can’t be easy for any of them.”
Rylee lay her fork on her plate and sighed, “I can’t help thinking of Gwynn. I can’t imagine how hard this has been for her.” Her gaze went around the table, landing on each person sitting there. Everyone fell silent for several moments, lost in thought. Finally, Rylee shook her head and tried to change the subject.
“So,” she said brightly. “Do you guys have any plans for the day?” The smile she wore was forced and Bree knew her mother was trying to move on to a happier subject, but she allowed the distraction.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” she said, taking another sip of her coffee.
Declan coughed a laugh from behind his napkin and Bree nudged him with her elbow. “Hush, you,” she said. Turning back to Rylee, she smiled and said, “Sawyer and I are having a girl’s night in.”
Rylee and Jon wore matching looks of confusion. “Girl’s night in?” Rylee repeated.
Bree nodded. “Yep.”
“With Sawyer?” Rylee clarified, clearly mystified by the idea.
Bree rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mom.”
“And she agreed to this?” Jon asked, his voice incredulous.
“Yes,” Bree said with a sigh. “She agreed.”
Declan laughed. “After you talked her into it.”
Bree shot a glare in his direction. “That’s not the point,” she said. Then, turning back to her parents, “I’m heading over to her place after dinner. It’s going to be fun.” When the other three looked at her with matching looks of skepticism, she shook her head again. “You’ll see,” she said.
“Hmm,” Jon said from behind his coffee mug. Bree thought she saw a hint of humor in his eyes.
Later that evening, Sawyer carried over a bottle of wine and two glasses to the living room where Bree had made herself comfortable on the couch. When Bree had suggested a girl’s night in, Sawyer had been utterly confused and it must have shown on her face. Bree seemed to be trying not to laugh while she explained the concept. Eventually, Sawyer had agreed that sitting around her living room in yoga pants, drinking wine sounded like a good time. She wasn’t sure about the girl-talk part, but she’d figure it out as she went along.
It was true that Bree wasn’t the first female friend Sawyer had ever had, but she was the first friend who hadn’t grown up in the Praetorian world. Sawyer occasionally forgot that the rest of the world didn’t begin and end with fighting a
war for survival. Other people liked to relax and talk about inconsequential things like hair and nail polish. Sawyer liked nail polish, even if she’d never admit it. Okay, so she’d only ever painted her toes, but she still liked the look of it on other people. Sawyer handed Bree a glass of wine and sat on opposite end of the couch with one of her own.
“So,” Bree said once they were both settled on the couch. “What’s new?”
Sawyer gave her a look from under raised brows. “We see each other every day, Bree.”
Bree rolled her eyes with a sigh. “Yes, but we never talk about anything other than Ephraim or training. What’s new with you?”
Sawyer looked as though she still didn’t understand the point of the conversation, but she took a healthy sip from her glass and gave it a shot. “I’m getting pretty good at throwing knives with my left hand,” she said proudly. “Not as good as you, obviously.” She added in a wry tone.
Bree smiled, conceding the point. “We all have our strengths,” she said. She took a deep breath and looked at Sawyer over the rim of her wine glass. “How’s Rowan doing?” She’d seen him around more in the past few days and he seemed closer to his old self, but Bree still worried about him.
Sawyer shrugged, but her eyes looked thoughtful. “Better, I think,” she said. “He’s still a little distant, but he’s not living in his office, so I’m calling it a win.” She smiled at her joke before her face took on a more serious expression. “I think he’s going to be okay,” she said. “I hope. But I think it depends on Stella, I think.”
“What do you mean?”
Sawyer sighed and took another sip of her wine. “I mean that he’s never going to be okay if she’s not,” she said, looking into her glass instead of at Bree.
“He really loves her, doesn’t he?” Bree said softly.
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