Into The Fire (The Ending Series)

by Lindsey Fairleigh

  Raising his hand to my face, Jason almost touched me. His fingertips hovered millimeters from the bruised, swollen flesh of my cheek. I hadn’t had the courage to look in a mirror yet, but I knew it was bad, if only from the way everyone winced when they looked at me.

  “The man who did this will die,” he promised softly.

  I smiled, and promptly winced at the dull ache. Harper had given me some pain meds, but they didn’t mask it completely. “It was a woman, actually—Clara. The same one who poisoned Zoe. She’s the one they use to wipe memories, to make T-Rs,” I told him, knowing he would recall the information I’d passed on early the previous morning.

  Jason’s gaze sharpened, his calculating intelligence showing through. “Are there others like her?”

  “I think so.”

  “Is she still alive?”

  I nodded and was suddenly sick of thinking about Clara, General Herodson, and the Colony. I was beyond frustrated that I couldn’t use my Ability to search for Zoe, I pretty much hated myself for the role my escape played in her disappearance and Camille’s comatose state, and I was on the verge of diving into an endless ocean of hysteria. I needed a distraction. I’d been away from Jason for a week, and for a few stolen moments, I could allow myself to focus only on him.

  “Take it off?” I asked, brushing the edge of his bandage where it reached his jawline. I’d known about the injury, but I hadn’t expected the dressing to be so large. The bandage crossed his face, covering an inch-wide strip from hairline to jaw. How bad is it? He and Zoe had definitely played it down. I needed to see how seriously he’d been injured.

  He flinched, turning away so I only saw the unmarred side of his face and the corner of the gauze and tape on his forehead. Does he think I’ll be disgusted? I shook my head. He can be such an idiot sometimes.

  “Come on,” I said, reaching up to trace my nails along his neck. Goose bumps rose beneath my fingertips. “I showed you mine”—I pointed to my battered face and kept my words light, flirty—“so you have to show me yours.”

  The hint of a dimple shadowed his cheek, and Jason murmured, “Tease.”

  “Only for a little while. Once I’m healed enough…”

  The full dimple made an appearance as Jason’s delicious, sultry grin curved up one side of his lips. When he met my gaze, his eyes were again filled with heat—this time, the good kind.

  I took his mood change as assent and again raised my hand to his face, tracing the bottom outline of the bandage. I hadn’t known undressing a wound could be sensual, but the heat in his eyes flared. As I slowly peeled the bandage away, the heat dampened, turning to worry. My eyes flicked to Jason’s periodically, letting him see the concern and affection I felt for him.

  Finally, I reached his hairline and uncovered the last of his wound. I set the tape and gauze on the windowsill and studied his face, committing the changes to memory. His face, however it looked, was the one I loved.

  Raising my fingers to his forehead, I hesitated before touching him. “Does it hurt?”

  He shrugged, never looking away from me. Lightly, I touched my fingertips to the skin above the top of the wound and began tracing around the edges. It was red and a little puffy, and the stitches had yet to be removed.

  Jason’s breath caught.

  I jerked my fingers away. “Did that hurt? Did I hurt you?”

  “No.” His voice was rough and deeper than usual. “It’s just a little sensitive.” He reached for my hand and raised it back up to his forehead. “Please, keep going,” he said, and I saw in his eyes that he needed me to do it, to show him that his altered appearance didn’t disgust me.

  I started where I had before, just above the place where the red, angry gash began about halfway between his right eyebrow and hairline. Using my fingertips, I traced the skin around it as lightly as possible as it angled toward his nose, turned back to slash over his eyebrow, just barely missing the inner corner of his eye, and cut down his cheek, from cheekbone to jaw, almost touching the edge of his mouth.

  Standing on tiptoes, I brushed my lips against his in a gentle, wordless claiming. Jason didn’t deepen the kiss, didn’t pick me up and ravish me against a wall, but he did smile. His lips curved against mine.

  “Red…” he breathed.

  Dropping my heels back to the floor, I sighed. “Lay down with me?” I moved to the bed and scooted into the center, waiting.

  Jason joined me instantly, lying on his back and letting me figure out what position was most comfortable for me to snuggle against him. When I finally settled on my back with my head resting on his outstretched arm, he turned his head to the side and just watched me.

  I looked into his sapphire-blue eyes…so much like Zo’s eyes.

  “You’re thinking about her, about Zoe, aren’t you?”

  My mouth fell open. “How’d you know?” I narrowed my eyes. “You haven’t developed some new mind-reading Ability, have you?” I was only half joking. The results of such a development could be disastrous. If he finds out about his mom…

  A soft chuckle escaped from his throat. “No, but I can read your face.” He frowned, and again, almost touched the side Clara had beaten. “Even like this,” he added quietly.

  “Oh.” I studied his expression, trying to read him. “I just wish my stupid telepathy was working. I wish I could find her.” I took a deep breath, holding back tears. “It’s just so unfair. Everything is so ridiculously unfair.”

  “I know,” Jason said, bending down to press the gentlest of kisses against my forehead. “Sanchez will keep searching for her. She’s not as good as you with the telepathic radar thing, but…” He frowned, the expression pulling on the lower portion of his wound. “She’s better than nothing.”

  “I know,” I said, offering him a small smile.

  “Rest now, Red. Wearing yourself out won’t do Zoe any good.”

  I sighed and closed my eyes. “I missed you.”

  I started awake, cringing as I jostled my broken forearm. Jason’s arm was still beneath my head, but he’d propped himself up partially with his other elbow and was staring at the bedroom door. Which someone was gently knocking on.

  “Jason? Wha—”

  “Shh…” he murmured, easing his arm out from under me. “I’ll take care of it.” He stood, stretched, and strode over to the door. “What?” he asked as he jerked the door open a few inches, irritation evident in his voice.

  I could hear Mase, but he was speaking too quietly for me to make out his words.

  “She’s resting,” Jason said.

  I sat up and groaned. “No, no, I’m up. What’s going on?”

  Looking over his shoulder at me, Jason said, “Mase says he needs to talk to you. Becca’s with him.”

  I ran the fingers of my good hand through my tangled curls and frowned. Yes, I was injured, but I didn’t need to be treated like I was made of glass. “Just let him in, Jason.”

  At least he didn’t argue.

  Mase entered the room first, Becca trailing right behind him. They both stopped at the foot of the bed, neither speaking.

  “Uh…so, what’s up?” I asked, feeling awkward.

  Mase nudged the other Re-gen, who was staring at me with a curious smile. For several long seconds, nobody said anything. And then Becca opened her mouth.

  “I had a vision. I saw where Zoe is. It is not far from here.”

  “Wait—what?” I asked, scooting to the edge of the bed as quickly as I could. Which wasn’t very quickly.

  “Why didn’t you just tell me that to begin with?” Jason snapped. Even as irritated as he was, he still hurried to the side of the bed to help me to my feet.

  “Is she okay?” I asked before they could respond to him.

  “She is somewhat changed, but she is unharmed,” Becca said.

  “What do you mean, changed?” Jason’s voice dropped in temperature to well below freezing.

  “Her memory has been wiped. She has no idea who she is, and you will de
finitely be strangers to her.”

  “Oh my God…” But I managed to stop myself from freaking out completely. I couldn’t afford to lose it—not right now. Finding her, making sure she was safe and sound, and getting the hell away from the Colony was all that mattered. I took a deep breath. “We need to go get her—”

  With barely a glance at me, Jason turned away.

  I squeezed his arm, holding him in place. “Wait. I think it should just be me who goes to get her…with Chris and Sanchez. You boys can, you know, hold down the fort.”

  “No.”

  Damn, he can be so stubborn! I gritted my teeth. “She’s more likely to be afraid of you or Jake. You’re big, scary men who she doesn’t know…not anymore. I mean, c’mon Jason, we don’t want to traumatize her more than she already has been.”

  “She’ll get over it. I know my sister.”

  “But that’s just it—” I was nearly shouting in exasperation. “If what Becca says is true, she’s not our Zo anymore!”

  Jason shook his head. “She may not remember who she is, but she’s still my sister. Deep down, she’ll still be Zoe.” I wanted to believe him, to agree with him, but even his own statement held a hint of uncertainty.

  I glanced at the Re-gens, then back at Jason. “You don’t know that,” I said, my voice small.

  Turning back to me and leaning down, Jason pressed his lips against mine. “C’mon. Let’s go get her.” He snagged my hand and led me to the door, Mase and Becca close on our heels.

  “Jason, I still don’t think—”

  “I know,” he said over his shoulder. We were in the upstairs hallway, heading for the stairs to the ground level. “But we’re all going.”

  Single file, we led our horses through a gate in the fence wrapping around the back of the house Becca led us to. Sanchez and Harper stayed out front with their new companions, Tavis and Sam, keeping watch, while Mase—holding Camille—Gabe, Becca, and Carlos settled themselves in the backyard with the animals. Jack came into the house with me, along with Jason, Chris, Jake, and Cooper. I led the way, Jack at my side and Chris and Cooper right behind us. The ladies and dogs were taking point on Operation: Rescue Zoe. At least I’d won that battle.

  We entered the house through a sliding glass door leading from the back patio.

  “Zo?” I called out. To my right was a carpeted, slightly shabby living room, and to my left was an open, outdated kitchen. The house was single-story, with maybe two or three bedrooms. I didn’t think we’d have to search for long.

  As we entered the second bedroom down the hallway beyond the living room, Cooper and Jack wagged their tails and barked. They trotted side by side to the giant mirror on the sliding closet door and whined.

  “Good boys,” I said, following them into the room. I scratched first Jack’s scruff, then Cooper’s, and gave them the hand signal to lay down—an open hand, palm down—partially out of habit and partially out of necessity. My Ability was still burned out, which meant I had to rely on good old-fashioned hand signals.

  I glanced over my shoulder, meeting Jason’s eyes. He was standing just inside the doorway, Jake blocking the opening beside him. “You’re nulling her, right? I don’t want her to, you know”—I waved my hands back and forth beside my ears, referring to Zoe’s Ability—“and get freaked out by what she sees or feels.”

  Jason simply nodded. Chris, on the other hand, stepped up beside me and whispered, “I’ll do what I can to calm her, but I’ve got to touch her first.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Okay, Zo,” I called softly through the mirror. “I’m going to open the door, so don’t be afraid. There’s another woman here with me, and a couple dogs, who’re real sweethearts.” I glanced at Chris and shrugged. “Ready?” I mouthed.

  She nodded, and I slowly slid the door open.

  36

  ZOE

  MARCH 23, 1AE

  I sat on the hard, creaky bed, almost too scared to move. Why did Clara do that to me? What did she do? I set the manila envelope on the mattress beside me and stared down at my shaking hands. I was on the brink of tears, but didn’t know why. The tremors in my hands worsened as I tried to remember something…anything. Watching them tremble escalated the brewing storm of tears and unease. I did my best to will my hands to be still. I couldn’t think while I was so scared. But I was scared, and I didn’t understand why. Dr. Wesley told me that I’d be safe here, at least until my friends came for me. She saved me, I told myself. I can trust her…she says she’s my mom. It’s not like I have much of a choice…

  The sound of multiple voices and heavy footsteps startled me. Holding my breath, I listened. There were so many footsteps…too many.

  I jumped to my feet, frantically scanning the room for a place to hide. The footsteps were getting closer and the muffled voices louder. The closet was my only option. I panicked. Plunging into the darkness, I slid the door shut behind me, hiding my face in my knees and hoping the shadows would swallow me from sight.

  “Zo?” a woman said timidly. I heard hushed voices outside the closet door and an ear-piercing barking. My fear increased, my heart beating so loudly in my ears that I couldn’t concentrate on what the voices were saying.

  Before I could think what to do next, the closet door slid open. I glanced up at the people staring down at me, hoping to feel some sort of relief at seeing their familiar faces, but there was nothing about them I recognized. I know them? Something about their appalled expressions and their stillness made me think I did. I studied my hands again, not wanting to meet their expectant, scrutinizing eyes.

  These are my hands, I thought. They’re my hands, yet I feel like I’ve never seen them before. I balled my fists, clenching them as hard as I could, and dropped them to my sides. I let my fingernails jab into my palms. I needed the diversion of physical pain. I needed a distraction from the horrified, unfamiliar faces that were staring at me as I huddled in the closet, confused. They were waiting for something.

  “…Zoe,” the curly-haired woman with the bruised face said. She was speaking to me, and I struggled to process her words. She seemed sad…uncertain. Something about her fire-red hair seemed familiar, but a sharp pain shot through my skull as I tried to recall why. I winced and reached for the back of my head, trying to rub the pain away.

  “…name is Dani,” she continued, holding one of her hands out to me. Her other arm was in a sling, and I wondered how she’d injured herself.

  I glanced from the redhead’s hand back into her wide, green eyes. Her eyebrows were pulled together, and her chin quivered a little. She squatted there, blinking, waiting.

  Slowly, I reached for her hand, curiosity winning over any lingering reluctance. She clutched my fingers lightly in hers with a small smile and then let my hand go. When she released my hand, she nodded to the woman crouched beside her and said, “This is Chris.”

  Just like Dani had done, Chris held out her hand and waited for me to meet her halfway. I felt better—less afraid—as soon as my hand touched hers.

  “This is Cooper,” Dani said, interrupting my thoughts. She was petting the head of a large husky who was lying nearby. “And this”—Dani turned to the dog sitting beside her—“is Jack.” She held her hand out to him and he raised his paw, shaking her hand just like I had. I couldn’t help but smile. I pulled my hand from Chris’s and reached for Jack, but hesitated.

  My fear resurfaced, creating a knot in my stomach and forming a sudden lump in my throat. Chris touched my other hand, and I immediately felt better. I like her, I decided.

  “Let’s get you out of there, hmmm?” Dani said. “It smells like old people in there.” She wrinkled her nose. It was a cute expression, and I felt my smile grow a little. With the help of the two women, I crawled out of the closet on shaking legs and stood between them.

  The other dog—Cooper—was standing and wagging his tail excitedly.

  “Cooper,” I whispered happily and dropped both women’s hands to bend down and pet his furry head.
I heard a collection of inhales, and the feel of eyes on me made me self-conscious. I straightened and scanned their faces.

  Dani’s mouth was gaping open. “Zo?”

  I felt my face scrunch, and I cocked my head to the side, unsure if I was supposed to answer her.

  “Do you remember us?” The slight chirp in her voice made her sound hopeful, and I felt a pang of guilt.

  I shook my head. When her face fell, I held my breath for a moment and my eyes shifted around the room. Two large, formidable men were standing in the doorway. The black-haired man was intimidating. He had brilliant blue eyes and a bandage crossing his face, and he was scowling. The way he concentrated on me with his arms crossed over his chest made me feel like I should be frightened of him, but for some reason I wasn’t. I was uncomfortable, but not frightened.

  The other was tall and equally unnerving, but in a different way. He stood in the doorway, one white-knuckled hand gripping the doorjamb. His eyebrows were drawn down and there was a sadness in his eyes that made me feel like I should comfort him, although I wasn’t sure why or how or if I really even wanted to.

  I felt inadequate. I didn’t want them staring at me. “I’m not sure what to say.” The sound of my voice was shrill in my ears, and I tried to swallow the growing bubble of panic inside me.

  When the sad man realized I was looking at him, he ran his hands over his scruffy face, then turned and walked away. I could hear his footsteps, loud and quick as he headed down the hallway. The dark-haired man nodded at either Dani or Chris, a single, sharp movement, before following the sad man out. Cooper trotted behind them.

  With a smile, Chris reached for my hand again, but my gaze stayed fixed on the empty doorway where the sad man had been standing. I wondered what had made his strong features so drawn and his eyes so empty.

  “What now?” Chris asked quietly.

  Dani sighed. “I have no idea.” She turned to me. “How did this happen? Do you remember anything?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t remember anything, and I don’t know why she did this to me.”