by Valia Lind
"Logan betrayed Kallos," I force the words out of my mouth, focusing on the hatred I have for the company and everyone else who've thought that my life is forfeited to them. There is so much anger to go around that I don't have to fake it. "I hold no loyalty to him and I certainly don't need him to protect me."
"And yet, you fell in love with him, didn't you?"
My body flares up at the question, because it's something I've fought with admitting, even to myself. Especially now. I haven't had any control over my emotions for a while, but what I feel for Logan has always been real. It's what brought me back to myself.
The general watches my reaction to his question and something clicks in him. He smiles a different sort of a smile and that's when I see it. Why he seemed so familiar before. I can see Logan in him. The realization burst through me, something that should've been mentioned to me. Why keep it from me?
The betrayal of secrets sting, but I file it away for another time. Right now, I need to make sure I get out of here alive and not in anyone's custody.
"What I may have felt for him is no longer an issue. My mission dictates the survival of Kallos and it's secrets. That means you are a threat that needs to be eliminated." I allow my lips to curl up in a sinister smile, everything that I've been feeling since I woke up coming to the surface.
The uncertainty. The anger. The doubts.
I can see what the general intends to do, but he doesn't anticipate me being this smart. He's used to soldiers following orders. I march to the beat of my own drum and that makes me much more deadly.
"You talk a big game, little girl," the general growls, the hatred for my insubordination to his authority figure a clear indication just how proud this man is. Even though I see the similarities between him and Logan now, I see none of Logan's kindness or heart. Maybe I knew all along about the general and Logan, but with my jumbled memories, nothing is clear anymore. I have to take each day as a new beginning, working on making sure my senses don't overheat in the process.
"Let's see what happens when you're forced to act on it."
The moment the words leave the general's mouth, his soldiers attack.
* * *
I duck as the man on the left comes at me with his fist. The dress I'm wearing is cut in the way that allows for freedom of movement, which is one of the reasons I chose it. My knives are strapped to the outside of my thigh and it takes me half a second to have them in my hands.
The men attack as one, their training speaking for itself. I swipe at the one on the right, my knife finding a weak spot on his upper arm. The pain doesn't seem to stop him at all. They grab for me, but I'm already dropping down to sweep my leg under them. The first one tumbles, and I flip over to deliver a kick to the groin. Kicking at the knee of the next one, I'm grabbed from behind as the man in front of me falls to his knees.
Using my body as a momentum, I fall backwards into my attacker, letting my body drop with it's weight. The move catches him off balance and we fall, with me on top of him. My hand is till holding the knife, and I plunge it behind me and into his side. He howls, but I'm already rolling off him. However, he's not as incapacitated as I'd like to. He has his own knife and I feel the blade against my skin. I twist with the movement, letting it glide down my arm, as I stab him on the other side, before punching him in the face.
The other two have recovered and are coming to me, but I don't wait to be grabbed. I jump on top of the closest one, making my body into a bullet and dragging him into the other soldier. They stumble and I knee one in the stomach, while stabbing my blade into his shoulder.
I'm pulled by my hair, and my scream is stopped by a punch to the face. I grab my assailants arm, twisting it around and moving my body with it. Twisting, I'm now behind him, my arm around his throat, as I squeeze his windpipe into submission. He slumps against me and I push his body into the one coming at me. Jumping to my feet, I step on the falling body in front of me, launching myself into the last standing soldier. We fall in tangles of limbs, but I'm quicker to recover as I smash his head into the table, before proceeding to smash it into the floor.
Climbing off the last solider, I glance around for the general but he's gone. I can hear people move around right outside the doors and know my time is up. The police will be in here any minute to do a sweep. As quickly as I can, I go through the pockets of the men I've just dispatched, looking for anything that could be useful.
But they're soldiers. They don't carry anything that could incriminate them or their boss. Frustration runs deep, but time is up and I need to get out of here. My head feels heavy and I can already feel bruises forming on my skin. Logan is going to feel guilty about this, I know it already.
Picking up one of my discarded knives, I wipe them both off on one of the soldiers, before sheathing them again. Heading back toward the direction Lucas was leading me, I hear the special unit enter through the front door. They'll be fast and thorough, so I need to make sure I'm out of the house before they get to me.
I push through a set of doors and find myself in one of the smaller rooms. There's no exit, but there is a window. Thankfully, it opens when I reach for it, however, not too much. I squeeze my body through the opening the best I can, crouching down on the outside of the wall the moment I'm through. The lights and the action are to my left and the waterfront is to my right. Pulling the heels off my feet, I decide to go right.
The bushes provide enough cover that I'm not easily seen from the house, even if they're scanning the outside. But staying close is not an option. There is a pathway toward the waterfront, but instead of taking that, I scurry down the slope.
The moment I'm past the immediate perimeter, I run. My feet hit against the asphalt, the sounds of the commotion growing softer in the distance. When I can no longer hear the sirens, I stop. My arm isn't bleeding as much as it could, since the wound is superficial. But I can feel my stitches have opened up again. During the fight, adrenaline kept me from feeling any of the pain, but now my body is on fire.
I slump against the first wall I come to, letting my head fall back with a sigh. The most frustrating aspect of all of is, is that I don't know if I actually made anything better or worse. And what information have I really gleamed from being there? A part of me thinks that staying back and letting Logan handle it would've produced more results, but I don't actually know that for sure. I don't know if we're doing any good anymore and that's the most difficult aspect to come to terms with.
My parents stood for something. They died for something. Me? What am I even doing with my life anymore? I allowed myself to be captured. I allowed myself to be used as a science experiment. It's my fault that Kallos now has a drug that can change the world in a way that may never allow it to recover. Everything my parents tried to keep from happening happened and all because of me.
I close my eyes, allowing myself this moment of self pity. I've failed so many people and if this continues, I'll fail so many more. Why did I think that I could handle the responsibility of saving the world? I'm just a little girl playing at big dreams.
During the year of preparation, during all the training and the heartache, I've never self doubted myself as much as I do right now, in this exact moment. I open my eyes to stare at the water, trying to figure out where these intense emotions are coming from. It didn't use to be this hard to push them away. The drug must've done more to my system than I anticipated.
I get to my feet, determination fueling me once again. If it is the drugs doing, if this emotional imbalance is part of me now, then I will find a balance on my own. I don't want to be as callous anymore. I want to let people in, to have relationships with those I love again. But I will not allow the emotions to rule me. I will rule them.
It's harder than anything in the world, but I push the self doubt away. I didn't start this journey only to give up so close to the finish line. Whatever information we may have gleamed, we will figure it out. Together.
I push away from the wall, wondering if I
'll have to have these pep talks to myself on the regular now. Maybe. But it's something I will do.
A noise makes me raise my head, body on alert. But when my eyes fall on the person coming towards me, I relax.
Logan found me. As he always does.
23.
LOGAN
The moment I see her, my heart soars.
I'm not sure if these intense feelings will go away and I'm not sure if I ever want them to. But worrying about her is not something that I want to keep doing simply because I don't want her in harms way anymore. But I know better than to think it's my decision to make.
"Are you okay?" I ask, coming up to stand in front of her. She doesn't look okay. Her dress is torn, blood stains her beautiful skin and there are bruises on her face. All I want to do is take her into my arms, but I don't know how she'll react to that anymore. I'm not sure if I'm allowed.
"No."
Her voice cracks at that one word and then she's the one falling into my arms. I'm surprised, but I don't hesitate to wrap her in my embrace, holding her as close as possible. There's a feeling of belonging anytime she's in my arms. For a millionth time I wish that the circumstances of us being together were different, but then I also wouldn't change a thing. We are who we are because of the decisions we have made. It has brought us here, to this point, and together. The 'what if's' and 'could've-been's' have no place in our lives anymore.
But holding her close, feeling her body pressed against mine, there are so many things that I wish I could change for us. I would give anything to protect her from any farther harm. If only my arms could keep her safe, I'd hold her forever.
After a few minutes of silence, I feel her take a deep breath and pull away. But only slightly. She looks up into my eyes, the bruises on her face casting her in shadows. I think she needed this moment as much as I did and it makes me happy to know that.
"Can we get out of here?" she asks, and I nod in response. Instead of moving away, she tucks her head under my shoulder, wrapping her arm around my middle. I snuggle her close, thankful for the nearness and lead her back to where I left the car.
The moment Calen told me she got into a fight, I ran. But she's quick and efficient, and I had no way to get back inside the house. By the time I got close enough, she was already outside. Calen redirected me and from my own knowledge of how her mind works, I took a guess at where she'll go. At the end of the day, we really do make a great team.
"Do you need me to look at your wounds?" I ask, as I open the passenger door for her. As if she's forgotten she was bleeding, she looks over herself but then shakes her head.
"I'm okay for now. We should get out of the area." She gives me a small smile and I help her get into the car. Calen and Freddie have been quiet in my ear, but I can almost feel their relief at me finding her.
"We're on our way," I say.
"Good."
When I get in the car, Tasia has made herself comfortable, rolling her shoulders a bit to ease the tension there. She looks over, catching me staring and I give her a small smile. It feels like the old times, when we were in this together. I've missed her too much. I'm comfortable with her and just for this one moment, everything seems to be right in the world.
"I met your father," she quietly says, shattering the illusion. My head snaps in her direction, but there's no judgement in her eyes. She's not blaming me for anything either. I hold on to that as I ask.
"What did you think?"
"You're nothing like him," she doesn't hesitate, turning to face me more fully. "You're similar in looks, but he's lacking, where you exceed. You have heart, and he has none."
She says it with so much confidence, as if nothing could ever remove that fact. I expected accusations or hurt. I would've deserved all of it. But she doesn't judge me on the sins of my father and I can't stop what I do next.
I kiss her.
She responds as if she's been waiting for it. Her lips are as soft as I remember. The taste of her is more intoxicating than I've imagined. Tasia moves closer, her body on fire beneath my hands. Or maybe it's me who's on fire. I can't tell where I end and she begins, as I bring her closer still.
I've been waiting for this. Waiting and wanting. I've been needing it like a drowning man needs a lifesaver. Whatever other poetic statement that fits here, it's that and so much more. I'm not sure how long we would've stayed like this if I didn't hear someone clearing their throat in my ear.
Reluctantly, I pull away, cradling Tasia's face in both of my hands. Her lips are swollen and I'm sure she sees the desire in my eyes the way I do in hers. These are the moments I wish our lives were different. A huge part of me wishes that I could do this right, that I could do us right.
"We need to get going," I whisper, my forehead resting against hers, as we both try to catch our breaths. There's so much more I want to say to her, so much more I want to thank her for. But now is not the time. I forgot we had an audience, but I won't forget again. The rest of this conversation is for when we're alone. Entirely.
Pulling away from her takes all of my self will. She sighs, and that small noise almost undoes me. I want to pull her back toward me, wrap her in my arms, and never let go. Never has I ever felt so much or so deeply.
I turn the car on, pulling out into the street, as Tasia settles more comfortably in her seat. The exhaustion from the fight seeps into her bones and it's not even five minutes before she's asleep. When I glance over at her, it's as if we went back in time. She's bruised and hurt, but there's peace on her face as she sleeps. It's how she was before the drug came into play. It's how she was when she walked back into my life.
I swear I will never lose her again.
TASIA
I know I sleep, but I don't dream. That's a first in a very long while.
Logan shakes me awake when we pull up at the cabin, but my limbs are too exhausted to move. Through half opened eyes I watch him get out of the car and walk around to my side. Before I can get enough strength to reach for the door handle, he's there, opening it for me.
Logan doesn't wait for me to get out, but reaches for me, taking me into his arms. I loop my hands around his neck, as he pulls me from the car, my head on his shoulder. Being near him, cradled in his arms, is the safest I've ever felt. We're inside the cabin in a manner of seconds and he's depositing me on the couch, so Calen can look over my wounds.
"You okay?" my cousin asks, crouching in front of me with his medical kit. I nod and manage a smile, leaning back against the cushions. Apparently, my body isn't as strong as I thought it was when I left for the city. Being in control once again means I have my regular human strength, as opposed the drugged up one. I have adjust all over again.
"What do you know?" Logan asks, and I watch over Calen's shoulder as he faces Uncle Freddie. My uncle is watching me, concern on his face, but turns back to his computer at Logan's words.
"The bomb threat was nothing but a false alarm, according to reports. Foster disappeared as soon as the alarm sounded, but he's scheduled for a press conference in an hour or so."
I'm not even sure what time it is, but the sun is close to rising, so it must be morning. No wonder I'm exhausted. But sleep will have to wait.
"What about the general?" I ask, and everyone's eyes fly to me. Calen is cleaning the cut on my shoulder, and I feel his fingers tense over my skin for just a second.
"He ran the moment you started winning the fight," Calen says, a note of smugness in his tone. I can't help but smile at that, knowing I made him proud. "I need to check your stitches."
Sitting up, I turn to allow him access to my back, holding my dress up at the front, as he pushes it away at the back. Logan glances over, before promptly turning around, but I don't miss the fire in his eyes. It's the fire I feel anytime he looks at me.
"We've been scanning the faces from the party, trying to find a connection. Or anything that raises any flags, but so far we've got nothing. It's mostly the players we already know about and the early night didn't qu
ite help with getting extra information."
Uncle Freddie stops talking, typing a few things on his computer, while Logan proceeds to pace. They needed results, we need results, and this didn't help us at all. Except expose us to both sides of the board. It continuously feels like we're the only ones missing information. Everyone else is ahead in the game.
"What about the woman with Foster?" I speak up, as Calen finishes up at my back and zips my dress back together.
"What woman?" Uncle Freddie asks, turning to face me.
"Barbara Walton. She came in through an outside door and left with Foster when the alarm sounded."
"I didn't see anyone leaving on camera," Calen muses beside me, but I'm watching Uncle Freddie's face. It looks like he's just been struck straight across the face. "There might've been an extra entrance that we didn't account for, but it's hard to tell if they don't put it in the blueprints." Calen is still speaking, but I'm not longer listening. I rise from the couch, cutting off whatever else Calen was going to say.
"Uncle?" my question is just a breath of air, but it stops everyone in the room. Logan spins on his heels, his eyes zeroing on me. There's inquisition in his gaze, but he allows me to do the asking. I stop in front of my uncle, getting to my knees. "What's wrong?"
He's far away, lost in some kind of a spell. Placing my hand on his knee, his unfocused gaze finds me, bringing it back to right now.
"You said Barbara Walton?" he whispers and my heart hurts at just how old he looks right then and there. I've never noticed it before, but it's as if that one name just took the mask off and the years catch up with him in a blink.
"Do you know her?"
"I'm...not...it can't be." Abruptly, he turns back to the computer, his fingers flying over the keys faster than I've ever seen. He's frantically looking for something and it's scaring me. Throwing a look over my shoulder, I see the the boys are just as concerned.
"Uncle, please talk to me," I stand, placing a hand over his own, stopping his frantic typing. He pauses, taking a deep breath before turning to me.
