Fate Foretold

by Jaliza A. Burwell

  The blood leaves my face at that tidbit. He’s still eyeing me carefully so I do my best to keep my thoughts off my face and hope he can’t see every detail. He doesn’t need to see that my heart is screaming for him and the others.

  “You keep calling me a healer because of the knowledge that I have.” His bitter voice is harsh in the darkness around us. “But that isn’t why I have it. The compound was training me to be a questioner.”

  “You mean torturer?” I whisper.

  He winces but nods, and when I think he’s going to stop, his grip tightens on my hips. He blows out a breath and glances away briefly. “A lot of us at the compound were forced to come into our gifts at a young age. Trauma can bring it out early and mine came out when I was six. They trained from the time I was young until we escaped when I was sixteen. They made me do a lot of things. They taught me everything I know about the body and how it works, just so I can deal out the right amount of damage. I can torture people with my gift. I can kill them, make them lose consciousness. A few times, I was able to disconnect the right synapses to end their ability to use their gift.”

  I gasp at that last part and try to image a little Jackson forced to be a part of other people’s horrors. His eyes close, his face pale. I reach up and cup his face.

  “That person has never been you,” I say. “Yes, they made you, but I can see it hurt you to do it. You’re not a horrible person. You’re a kind person who was forced to do horrible things.”

  “I’ve hurt a lot of people.”

  “So have I,” I admit. “And I’m not talking about my father. He did die because of me, and I should have Seen it. But my gift allows me to See remember. I know when things are going to happen, and a lot of those things I See aren’t good.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “It is. Tell me, am I a bad person?” I ask him.

  He automatically shakes his head.

  “When I was twelve, I was out walking in the city on my own. My dad was doing a job and had been gone for a couple of days. I was hungry so I thought I’d go down a block to a place I like to eat to get some food. While waiting at the crosswalk, I had a vision. A woman was staring down at her phone, not paying attention, and she stepped out too early. A car rammed into her, killing her instantly.” I pause, remembering every second of that moment. “The walking signal was about to appear. When I looked to my right, that same woman I’d just seen was standing there, playing on her phone. A group of young teens, not much older than me decided to run across as the light was turning yellow. So they went first. All she saw was them going, so she stepped out, not paying attention. The car that decided to speed up through the yellow light was timed perfectly to miss those teens, but not the woman. She died on impact. And I did nothing to stop her. I Saw it happen. I Saw all the ways this could go wrong and go right. I knew if I reached out to her or even bumped my shoulder into her, pretending to shift on my feet or something, she would have paid attention. She wouldn’t have gone. But I didn’t.”

  Not tearing my eyes away from Jackson, I challenge him. “Now let me ask you again, knowing that, does that make me a bad person. I should have done something. Even if I just brushed up against her, she could have lived. But that scene. Seeing it had rooted me to the ground and my body wouldn’t move. I could have saved her.” My words were choked at the end. I tightened my grip on Jackson and pulled him closer, anger slipping through. “So tell me, am I a bad person?” My question came in with desperation. This is only one thing that haunts me when things get too quiet. Just one of many incidents similar to that. If I See something about to happen not even seconds later, I’m still reeling from the vision, that I don’t stop it in time.

  “No, Lyn, fuck no, you aren’t a bad person.” He pulls me into a hug, his arms tight around my shaking body. I wrap my arms around him.

  “If you say that about me, then how can you say you aren’t a good person?” I ask into his chest. His body stiffens. “You were just a kid too. They exploited you. You were a kid with an amazing and powerful gift and so they used you. Tell me. Did you enjoy any of it?”

  He’s fast to shake his head.

  “See. You aren’t a bad person.” My eyes burn with unshed tears. “You were a child forced to do bad things to survive. You survived. From the little I know about this compound, it was not a good place, not if they experimented on gifted kids.” I cup his face and brush my lips against his before pulling away. “Not if they put a six-year-old through enough trauma to cause their gift to come in early. You are not a bad person. And I’m still here. You did not scare me away.”

  Jackson’s body shudders, and he pulls me close to him again, rocking me as he tucks his head into my neck, breathing me in. His body continues to shake, and I rub his back, realizing he’s crying.

  This strong, big man is in my arms, crying, exposing himself to me, showing me his raw emotions. I just stand there and hold him, letting him release what has to be years of emotions that have built up inside of him. All the guilt he has been hoarding and gripping onto comes out with each teardrop. I can feel my shirt getting wet, but I don’t care, and I refuse to say anything about it to him.

  When he stops crying, he pulls back, and I smile.

  “I’m scared to sleep alone,” I admit. “Every time I close my eyes, my nightmares come back. Will you hold me?”

  He nods and takes my hand, leading me slowly back up to my bedroom. After helping me crawl into the bed, he joins and turns me to face away from him as he cuddles close, putting one arm under my head and the other around my waist. We’re connected, pressing against each other, from our chests all the way down to our entwined legs.

  That seems to be the trick because gradually our breathing slows down together until both of us are fast asleep.

  23

  “What are you thinking?” Colton asks me a couple days later. He’s leaning against a wooden beam on the porch while I sit with tea in my hand on the swing they’ve set up. The sun is setting before us as another day passes by.

  The guys are great, if not a little intense. They do give me my privacy and leave me alone for the most part. After those initial intimate moments with Jackson and Eli, we are all on our best behavior and keeping our distance.

  When I’m bored, DJ is always the first jumping to entertain me, with cards, TV shows, or board games. He’s so full of energy, sometimes it’s hard to keep up with him.

  Eli is attentive, always aware when my mood turns somber. With his heightened senses, he’s able to tell when I’m struggling, either emotionally or physically.

  Jackson is just as attentive, though he’s a little more on the overprotective side. Despite being the one telling me it’s okay to walk around, he’s also the one to scowl when he sees me doing it. He’s also keeping a close eye on my wound, probably checking it more often than he should.

  It’s Colton I’m not sure about. I haven’t had a chance to spend much time with him. He’s always in and out. Apparently, he has some jobs still in progress and he has to make sure they run smoothly. I feel bad for taking up their time. I’m sure they’re busy, but Eli assures me they have other employees who can fill in since they aren’t available and it isn’t an issue. Jackson just tells me to focus on getting better, and DJ is ecstatic to have a ‘vacation’ as he’s calling it.

  “It’s nice here,” I respond as he joins me on the swing. It creaks under his weight, and when he takes over, keeping it swinging, I tuck my other leg underneath me. “Peaceful.”

  We’re staying in a cabin alongside one of the mountains. I can see the surrounding mountains towering over us and since it’s the middle of summer, the wildlife is brimming with energy.

  “Thank you,” Colton says, and leans into me briefly so his shoulder brushes mine in acknowledgment.

  “For what?”

  “Jackson has always been full of grief, but lately it hasn’t been so debilitating. I know it’s because of you.”

  I spare him a glance, wonder
ing if he overheard us the other night.

  He smiles. “I don’t know what happened so don’t look like that. I don’t make it a habit of sneaking around and eavesdropping. I just know Jackson, and no one, not even me, has been able to reach him through all the guilt he carries. But you did. You’re the only possible explanation, and for that I’m thankful. I can only imagine what it was you had to tell him to make him realize none of what he had to do was his fault.”

  “This compound, can you tell me more?”

  His expression darkens briefly as he glares out at the wildlife, though his eyes look distance.

  “We were all experiments there. They pushed us to go beyond our limits and some kids couldn’t survive that. We lost people because they strained and they couldn’t recover from it. We almost lost DJ there. When that happened, I fought to get us out.”

  “Your gift, what is it? I know everyone else’s but I don’t know yours.”

  “Mimicry. I can copy gifts. Not all of them. The rare ones, like yours and Jackson’s I can’t mimic. But I can do Eli’s and to a certain extent, DJ’s. For the most part, I just copy Eli’s since his is the most beneficial to me and everyone else. I don’t have DJ’s control for dream weaving.” He turns to me, resting his elbow on the back of the seat and his head on his fist. “I’m glad you never had to go there.” He reaches over and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “They would have destroyed you there, so I’m glad.”

  “From what you and everyone else tells me, I’m glad too. My life wasn’t too bad growing up. My mother died in childbirth, so it was just Dad and me. We moved around a lot when he realized what my gift was.”

  “How old were you when you learned you were a seer?”

  I snort. “Four years old.” His eyes widen at that and I nod. “Haven’t stopped hiding since. I think this is the first time I feel so relaxed. You guys are making me feel safe.”

  And that scares me. I don’t want to get so comfortable, but I can’t help it the longer I’m with them.

  “Do you still want to run away from us?” he asks in a low voice.

  I can only respond with a nod.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want you to die.”

  “We won’t.”

  I shake my head. “You can’t say that and you know it. Holsen is a dangerous man, and he will never stop until I’m in his hands or dead. I don’t want you guys getting caught up in that.”

  Colton leans forward, his grey eyes intense. His hand goes to my upper arm to touch me lightly and I can’t tear my eyes away from them. He has good hands, a provider’s hands, with calluses on them from hard work. When I meet his eyes again, there’s a new light in them, turning the greyness into a swirling storm.

  “Adalyn. Listen carefully. Whether you believe us or not, we are already caught up in this. We refuse to be anywhere else but by your side. Everyone is right, there’s an attraction between us, and I refuse to turn my back on you. If I do, if any of us do, we will all hate ourselves. We can’t just watch you get killed or used. And here’s something you don’t know about us.”

  I hold my breath as he leans closer.

  “We’re more powerful than Holsen. He won’t win against us.” Taking a deep breath, Colton leans back and faces the view. His arm wraps around me, and he pulls me into his body. My body betrays me, and I end up snuggled up against him, my head leaning on his chest.

  “I can’t wait for your hair to grow out,” he murmurs as his free hand plays with a lock.

  “I need to dye it again.”

  “Don’t.”

  “It’s too noticeable. People remember my hair.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Don’t. Let it grow out. I want to know what you look like with all of your hair this white-blonde color. It’s beautiful. Each strand captures the sun and shines a different shade because of it. It’s mesmerizing.”

  His words make me want to let it grow out and I don’t respond. After he says something like that, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to dye it again. I miss my natural hair color too. It has always been one of my favorite features about myself.

  “I remember my mother,” Colton whispers after a few companionable minutes pass. “She told me a story about the gifted. That we can resonate with someone. She says she resonated with my father. He was the love of her life, her true love. They butted heads a lot, but that only made their relationship stronger. Despite the situation, she had no regrets having me because she said I looked just like my father, and she loved that a piece of him still exists in this world.”

  “Resonate?” I ask.

  I feel him nodding. “Yes, resonate. Gifts work on a frequency, each one different. But some gifts work on the same one and that ends up attracting them together. The guys and me, we all work very well together. We resonate with each other and when we fight together, we’re a force others are running and screaming from.”

  “You think I resonate with you guys?”

  “It would explain these emotions. You fit with us perfectly. No one else has ever been like that for us. So please consider that before you consider leaving us. It’ll hurt if you run from us again. We won’t survive if something happens to you, and every cell in our body says to help you. Let us help you.”

  “What happened to your mother?”

  “She’s dead,” is all he says in an empty voice. From the history they’re helping me piece together, I have a feeling none of us have living parents. His pain is deep and my heart aches for this amazing man who lost an amazing mother.

  Before I even know what I’m doing, I press my lips along the underside of his jaw, against the bristles of his five-o’clock shadow. My lips tingle as they press against his skin. He takes in a sharp breath before dipping his head so our lips meet. Heat zaps to my core at the feel of his lips against mine. I meant to only comfort him, but now those emotions shift and change into something else. My body sings with energy, wanting more.

  Colton deepens the kiss and I hum in response. His kisses are firm, promising realness, touching upon the primal desire that swirls in both of us. When we separate, we’re both breathing heavily, eyes filled with need for more.

  Not ready to go that far with them, I opt to curl into his side, resting my hand on his chest. He grabs my hand and holds it, just as content to hold me. He really does have the patience of a grand monk.

  As the sun sets, I mull over his words.

  I’m wavering with them. All four of them.

  “The day you guys escaped from the compound, what was the first thing you did that you always wanted to do?” I ask, needing to learn more about them.

  He chuckles. “I found us a nice big clearing and we camped out in the field, staring at the clouds. We hadn’t seen the night sky in so long. We spent days there, just staring up at the sky. Day and night. When we ran out of provisions, we finally left.”

  “What was the first thing you ate that didn’t come from there?”

  “DJ talked us into going to one of those waffle houses. I got a huge stack of pancakes, DJ and Eli went for the waffles, and Jackson tried crepes.” Colton’s voice is wistful as he remembers. Anytime he mentions the guys, there’s a fondness that slips into the tone of his voice and I know he loves all of them dearly and feels responsible for each of them. “We ordered a massive plate of bacon and haven’t stopped eating it since.”

  My nose curls up in disgust, and he laughs. “You really don’t like bacon, do you?”

  I shake my head. “It always makes my stomach hurt, no matter how I eat it.”

  Colton laughs and it’s a freeing type, the kind that is lighthearted and comes from deep within the soul.

  “You really are amazing. Come on, I came out to get you for dinner. DJ cooked tonight, and while he won’t admit it, he’s a genius in the kitchen.”

  “DJ knows how to cook?”

  Colton nods as he stops the seat from rocking and gets up. “He gets embarrassed if you talk about it, and he secretly loves it. So keep b
ringing it up. Maybe it’ll get him in the kitchen more often.”

  Accepting the mission, I smirk. “I can do that.”

  His smile is wide and some of his stress seems gone now. He helps me to my feet, and we head inside.

  Colton didn’t lie. DJ does know how to cook. He made homemade spaghetti sauce and cheesy garlic bread. My mouth waters as I sit at the table, and Eli makes my plate for me while Jackson pours me some water.

  “This looks amazing,” I say, licking my lips, my mouth watering at the smell of the garlic.

  DJ mumbles, “It’s nothing special.”

  “It is,” I say cheerfully. “I haven’t had food like this in months. I’m impressed.”

  The others at the table laugh as DJ blushes hard and grumbles about needing the cheese as an excuse to disappear into the kitchen. I send Colton a wink, and he grins big, giving me an approving nod.

  If DJ can cook like this, then he needs to get used to being praised for his hard work. He deserves it.

  24

  For a week straight, I had peace. I got to learn about the guys and though it’s hard to admit it, I’m falling for them. How can I not? And the longer I’m around them the more I begin to believe that Colton is right, I resonate with them.

  How else are we able to mesh together so well? They tell me stories about after they ran away from the compound. The days they struggled but also got to live. I throw in my own stories, like the good visions I had, like the time I helped a man meet his future wife. If they missed that moment, they weren’t going to meet again for another couple of years. Or the time my dad moved us to another town and there was a boy I used to play with every day. Out of all the people I met growing up, he was the one I missed the most.

  Jackson told me about the first time he got drunk to go along with fun stories and later that same day, he told me how that first time led him down a dark path. He’s been sober for about a year now and admitted that having me around makes it easier.

  We used orange juice to toast his accomplishment.

  DJ told me about the pranks he likes to play on the other guys when they’re sleeping. He likes to pull them into a dream realm and then scare them that way, nothing too harmful, for the most part.