Scarred by Vengeance (Titanium Book 2)

by Valia Lind

  "You say it like we're in the middle of some gang war," I state.

  "Isn't there always someone trying to take the place of the biggest and the best?" he replies, sparing me a glance. "A corporation as large as Kallos isn't without enemies. There's bound to be someone trying to take them down."

  "But you don't know who?" For some reason, I have a feeling that he does. Maybe not to the full extent, but he has an idea. I decide not to push the point. For now. It's not like it'll make a difference for what I have to do.

  "The list is too long to narrow it down to one, Tasia. On their climb up the power ladder, they made a lot of enemies. Present company included." He gives me a small smile, trying to lighten the mood a little. For the first time I notice just how tired he looks and it chips at my heart a little.

  "But sadly, can't be at two places at once. Haven't mastered that particular ability just yet." I play along, hoping to get that smile again. When I'm rewarded with one, my heart feels a little lighter. What would make me feel even better is if I could talk to Uncle Freddie or Calen? I wonder if they could shed some light on who was trying to murder us? Kidnap us? I'm not even sure what their plan was.

  "Logan, why were those men even after us?" I hate to bring the somber mood back into the car, but I need to know what he thinks. I see him grip the steering wheel a little tighter, before releasing his hold.

  "I don't know," he replies.

  "Then tell me what you think." I say, giving him a pointed look.

  "Honestly? I think they know who you are and are willing to do everything in their power to get their hands on you, regardless of the fallout later." His words take me by surprise, even though it's what I've been thinking since the incident in the parking garage.

  When Foster was testing me, it was always about my abilities and what I can do. These men didn't want to know what I can do. They just wanted me.

  "So there are those out there that will haunt me down, along side Foster, to use me in their labs." I say the words out loud, making them that much more real.

  "It's not like Foster has to hunt you down, Tasia. You walked right into his office all on your own." There's bitterness in Logan's voice and I can't fault him for it.

  "It was the right decision, Logan. You can't tell me otherwise." For some reason, I believe that even more now than when I made it the first time. There's no doubt in me anymore that this is what I was supposed to do.

  "What exactly have you accomplished, Princess? Except for putting yourself in the crosshairs of everyone Foster knows." I try not to react viciously to his condescending tone, but it's hard to reel the anger in.

  "I found Blake—"

  "No, heallowed you to see Blake."

  "I'm gaining his trust, Logan," I say through gritted teeth, wringing my hands together to keep from doing what I really want to do. Like wrap them around Logan's throat and squeeze. I really am hot and cold when it comes to him.

  "To what extent? You placed yourself behind enemy lines and you have nothing to show for it. It's just going to get you killed."

  "You're not exactly being helpful. Rome wasn't built in a day. And all that. I've already earned way more trust than I expected to at his point. I can't expect everything to be just handed over to me."

  "The drug in your system is what earned you that minimal trust. And don't tell me you're okay with that," he throws the statement in my direction and his words make me pause. I shouldn't be okay with it, but...

  "If it helps me bring Kallos down, then I am okay with it."

  Logan jerks his head my way, staring at me for a few tense moments, before turning his attention back to the road. I know he doesn't like my answer, but tough luck. This isn't about him.

  We don't say anything else for the duration of the drive because there's nothing else to say after that. Not for the first time I wish I could call Uncle Freddie and have him run a check on the car that was following us. I push the thought away because that's not something I may ever do again and it's about time I come to terms with it.

  When we pull up to the guard shack, Logan gets waved through with no problems. It still amazes me just how deep within this company he is, how much they trust him. But even with all that freedom, I know he's not privy to a lot of the information I wish I could get my hands on.

  Logan keeps throwing small glances my way. There's something in the air between us that I can't really explain even to myself. There's definitely worry, but also protectiveness. I don't know how to deal with either emotion so I push it all back. When Logan parks in front of Foster's house, he places a hand on my knee.

  "Whatever happens, we'll get through it." I'm not sure why he feels that he needs to make that statement. I want to remind him again that we're not a team, but for some reason, I need that reminder more. But instead of replying, I just give him a firm nod and get out of the car.

  We walk into the house, breezing past security like we own the place. When we come up to Foster's office, the doors are open.

  "Close those on your way in," Foster calls out as soon as he sees us in the doorway. Turning his attention back to his computer, he studies whatever is on the screen as we stand waiting for him to acknowledge us. After a full minute, he finally stands and walks over to where we are.

  Giving us a thorough study, he does a walkabout around us and it takes some serious self-control not to scream at him. Every time he does that slow study of me I feel like a specimen under a magnifying glass, about to be dissected.

  I know that's exactly what he's going for and I'm trying not to give him the satisfaction of seeing me seethe. But I'm probably failing. When he walks back around to stand in front of us, I feel Logan's fingers close over my own. Just like that, I'm calm.

  Foster doesn't miss the movement. His eyes narrow on our hands, before meeting my own with a satisfied smile. I clutch at Logan's hands a little harder.

  "I heard of the new development and glad to see it for myself," Foster states, making sure I understand his meaning when he zeros in on our joined hands. Logan, however, is way ahead of the game. He closes the space between us, bringing me flush against his side.

  "Tasia is a lot more...understanding now." Logan says, putting just enough meaning into the word to make Foster grin like a fool. At the last moment, I remind myself that this is exactly what I need them to think.

  That's I'm susceptible.

  That I'm pliable.

  That I can be molded.

  I throw a coy smile Logan's way, hoping I don't look as demented as I feel. I'm not exactly a person to whom flirting comes easily. Especially with an audience. But here I am, playing another role.

  At the back of my mind, a voice says that I don't mind playing this particular role, but I tell it to shut up. Can't get distracted.

  "Well, I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it for myself," Foster says, still watching us closely. He's waiting for the final nail on the coffin, so to speak. I can feel the tension radiating off Logan, the arm he has wrapped around my waist almost vibrating with it. But the rest of him looks relaxed.

  It hits me then just how much of a master deceiver he truly is.

  I can't concentrate on that now. I can't let doubt creep in when I'm trying to make them trust me. I have to pretend I trust them. So I do the one thing that I know will seal the deal.

  Snuggling a bit closer to Logan's side, he turns his head down to me. Reaching up, I place my hand on his collar, pulling him down to me. A flicker of surprise is replaced by comprehension and then he's the one to close the distance between us.

  Kissing him in front of the enemy isn't as ideal as before. But when I think about the fact that I'm also kissing the enemy, it evens out. I'm here to play a part, right? Just like everyone else in this room. But the feel of Logan's lips against mine doesn’t feel like deceit.

  It feels like support.

  Like comfort.

  Like understanding.

  It's telling me I'm not alone and that's the scariest lie of a
ll.

  I pull back then, looking up at him and find no lies in his eyes. Just want. Before I succumb to that desire and my own, I turn to Foster. He's watching us like a proud father on his daughter's wedding day and it takes all the pleasure out of the kiss in an instant. I plaster a dreamy smile on my face, my arms still around Logan.

  "Good. Then, we're right on schedule." Foster states, turning away from us and walking back to his desk. Everything in me freezes at his statement. This,us, is part of the plan? I almost laugh out loud. Why am I even surprised at this point?

  I glance up at Logan and find his expression to be something of a shock. Did he not know that Foster expected this? I squeeze Logan around the middle and he turns his attention to me, masking his expression back to neutral. I ask the question with my eyes and he shakes his head just ever so slightly. I breath a little bit easier.

  I honestly didn't think Logan was pretending and that's the first time since I've met him.

  Turning back to Foster I watch as he grabs his phone from the desk and speaks up.

  "Now that we've got that settled. I've got a job for you, lovebirds," he says, looking straight at me. I'm not sure if it's Logan's presence or just my renewed recklessness, but the rebel in me speaks up. Because my next words take everyone by surprise.

  "First, I want to see Blake."

  * * *

  It takes Foster a moment to recover.

  He's obviously not used to people givinghim orders. He pulls himself up to stand a little taller, walking back around the desk.

  "And what, pray tell, makes you think I'm going to let you see her?" he asks, watching me closely. I keep a firm hold of Logan's hand, but taking a step out of his arms. Leveling Foster with a determined look, I pause before speaking.

  "I've done everything you’ve required of me so far. I haven't disobeyed any orders, or done anything to jeopardize your operation. But I can't promise to continue to do so until I see my sister." My voice is low, but firm. There's not doubt that I'll deliver.

  Foster studies me for a moment, contemplating my words. I feel a small reassuring pressure on my hand and return it without taking my eyes off the man in front of me.

  "You think you have a choice." It's not a question, but I answer it anyway.

  "I think right now, I'm still capable of fighting. You don't want me to fight you, John." His first name feels foreign on my tongue, but I don't flinch. However, he does. Then, his eyes narrow in assessment.

  "That definitely sounds more like you," he says finally, and before I can comment, he continues. "We'll see Blake on the way out. She's over at Katie's house."

  With that, he walks past as and we hurry to catch up. I didn't know I was holding my breath until he agreed to let me see her. Getting into an SUV behind Foster, I'm a little bummed Logan and I won't be driving ourselves. However, I'm glad he's still with me.

  It takes us less than two minutes to arrive at the house. Briefly, I wonder why Foster keeps calling it 'Katie's house' when Lucas is the one I expect to be in charge. But all that leaves my brain the moment the SUV stops.

  "You can go in and see her. You have three minutes starting now."

  I get out of the car then, not wasting any time. Logan follows closely behind and instead of knocking, he opens the door and motions me in.

  "Katie!" He yells, as if this is a typical occurrence and I give him a questioning look. He shrugs his shoulders just as Katie and Blake round the corner from the kitchen.

  "Oh, hello there!" Katie exclaims, clapping her hands together. She gives me a wide smile, concentrating all of her attention on me. Joy must have told her about my tragic past and why I had to pretend to have a different name, because there's all kinds of sympathy in her gaze. She rushes over, giving me a big hug, before turning her attention back to Logan.

  "We can't stay long. Tasia just wanted to come by and say hi," he explains and I'm grateful because at this point, all I can do is stand there, staring at Blake. She's got one of her carefree smiles lighting up her face, watching everything around her with interest. It takes all of my willpower not to rush at her and take her away from here. Logan must be reading my mind because he reaches over and wraps his hand around my own.

  I hate how I'm becoming depended on his quiet presence. Again.

  Blake's eyes follow Logan's hand and then she looks up and grins at me. It's that Blake smile, the one that screams 'heck yeah' to the world. I notice her motion with her hand and then she gives me a thumbs up. Tears spring to my eyes, but I blink them away. Instead, I concentrate on smiling as Logan and Katie chat for a minute.

  "Well, we must be off. John has us running errands." Logan chuckles and Katie gives him a knowing smile. He's so easy going with these people. I can't wrap my mind around the different sides of him I keep seeing.

  Gently, he tugs on my arm and leads me out of the room. I manage a wave in their direction and try to swallow the big lump rising up in my chest.

  "We'll get her out," Logan whispers in my ear as he leads me down the stairs and toward the SUV. I don't comment, just nod, pushing all of the emotions far far down.

  Compartmentalizing.

  We get back into the SUV and it instantly pulls away. Foster watches me and I stare steadily back at him. Whatever emotions were playing around in my head, I put them all on their little shelves for safe keeping.

  No one dares to speak.

  Foster scrolls through screens on his phone.

  Logan sits beside me, holding my hand.

  I stare out the window.

  It takes us thirty minutes to arrive at our destination. We're pretty much in the middle of nowhere, at what looks like an old farmhouse.

  I honestly have no idea how we got here.

  As we get out of the car, I try not to panic at that thought. I was paying attention to my surroundings and yet, somehow, I missed the roads we took. Foster doesn't say anything, just heads off toward the house. Logan and I exchange a look and follow.

  When I step inside the house, my breath catches.

  There, in the middle of the living room area, sits one of the men who ambushed Logan and me at the parking garage. He's tied to a chair, which is attached to the floor with heavy bolts.

  From what I can tell the chair is metal and the mans arms and legs are connected to he sides with heavy looking leather straps. There's no way he's getting out of that chair, unless someone lets him out.

  Actually, it doesn’t look like he can get out of that chair on his own at all. There's blood mixing with sweat and not just from the cuts on his arms. He's been punched a few dozen times. At least. His face is bruised to a point of barely there recognition, one of his eyes completely swollen over.

  Foster walks up to the man, studying him closely. Logan and I don't go any farther than the doorway, both of us stopping right on the other side of the wall. There are three other men in the room, all ones I've seen before, so I'm assuming they work for Kallos.

  I've been with Foster for three days now and I'm noticing he's a big fan of the 'walking around the room and staring' intimidation tactic. I can't say it's not working because the man in the chair is sweating as he tries to crane his neck to see Foster better.

  It's hard for me to stay standing still.

  Just looking at the man in the chair sets my teeth on edge. He wanted to murder me, I could see it in his eyes as well as those on his team. They didn't need me alive. They just needed my body. Probably to dissect, cut to pieces and use whatever was needed before discarding the rest.

  When Foster points to one of his goons, the man rears back his hand to smacks the one in the chair with a force that makes his head spin. Blood from his wounds and mouth splatters on the floor as the man in the chair tries to catch his breath. Once he seems to get a hold of himself, he stares up at his attacker defiantly.

  "Interesting." Foster's voice carries through the room and I move my eyes to meet his. He's looking at me in that scientific way again and I have the urge to shrink back into the w
all. Whatever's coming, I'm not going to like it.

  "Tom." Foster continues, not taking his eyes off me. I watch as the guy who punched the prisoner reaches over and takes something from Foster's outstretched hand. Then, turning in my direction he closes the distance between us and hands me the object.

  It's a knife.

  I stare at the object, now in my hand, in confusion. Logan makes a noise beside me, almost like a growl, and I look up at him, looking down at me with anger in his eyes. But I can see the anger isn't directed at me. It's directed at Foster. Suddenly, I realize why I'm here.

  "Miss Snow?" Foster pulls me back out of the staring contest and it takes me a second to focus on him. He looks expectedly at me. "I need you to torture this man now."

  "What?" I ask, dumbfounded.

  "I need you to come over here," Foster explains, patiently, as if he's explaining how to make toast. "And show this man what it means to be cut to pieces. I know you're good with a knife. Now, show me how good."

  There's a kind of a lull to his voice. It's like a film falls over his words and I'm struggling to hear them through the barrier. I hear Logan's voice say my name, but my focus is on Foster.

  "Begin," he says and I can do nothing, but obey.

  * * *

  The blade slices the skin with precision.

  She hears the cry of pain, but that doesn't stop her progress. It fuels it.

  Blood drips from the open wound, staining the skin and clothes of the man in front of her. He's talking now, well more like crying, and she has the sudden urge to laugh in his face. How weak is he? A few cuts and he's spilling his secrets faster than she's spilling his blood.

  The knife feels comfortable in her hand. More like an extension of her limb than an actual object. She wants to do worse. Much much worse. But she has to be content with making small circles with the tip of the blade on his skin.

  When the voices begin to fade, she looks up at her boss, waiting for instruction. He sees the hunger in her and he likes it. With a simple nod of his head, he gives her all the permission she needs.

  She grabs the man's hair, pulling his head back, and with one sure swipe of her wrist, she cuts his neck.