Fractured Refuge

by Annabelle McInnes

  Chapter 18

  Euan was careful to make no sound as he opened the door to the spare room. It swung inwards. He put his hand to the wall and flicked the switch.

  Cool light illuminated the small room. The taupe carpet was free from marks. Three of the four bunk beds remained made up and untouched. The walls were bare. All the shelves had been removed from the chipboard wardrobe. A single pair of women’s hiking boots sat neatly by the door.

  Smith stood up from where he sat on the edge of the lower bunk. He was slow to rise. His fatigues were spotless, his combat boots were laced and his waterproof parka was held tightly in a clean fist. The filthy mass of blond hair was gone. A shaved scalp emphasised the sharp slash of his cheekbones, the jagged lines that indented his brow, the purple smudges smeared under his eyes and the stitches in his chin. His lips were pinched and his gaze, when it met Euan’s, was resolved.

  ‘You sure about this?’ Euan asked.

  Smith inhaled and cast a final glance at a huddled mass of clothes at the bottom of the wardrobe. He let the air expel from his lungs in a rush.

  He nodded once.

  Euan’s focus remained on the tangled of pile of bedding. Even without a glimpse of dark hair, a flash of pale skin or any movement, it was obvious Lily had hidden herself in a self-made nest. The reason she found comfort in small spaces after she’d fallen asleep in Kira’s arms earlier that night further solidified why Euan had to do this.

  Despite the dangers, despite the obstacles, and the unknowns.

  Maybe because of them.

  Euan tried not to let his voice break. ‘Look after them.’

  There was a long pause. It was heavy with the implications of such a demand. Smith’s jaw hardened, the muscles in his cheek flinched.

  When the reply finally came, it was hoarse. ‘They’ll come after you.’

  It was Euan’s turn to hold his breath. The sickness in his stomach was constant, an angry serpent that had made its home in his gut. After the beauty they had shared that night, Nick and Kira would see this as a betrayal. Their trusting natures, courageous hearts and the love they felt for him would see them try to come after him.

  It was inevitable.

  But Euan’s feelings transcended love. He adored them, worshipped them, and so he had put measures in place to ensure that didn’t happen.

  ‘Tell them I intend to be back, and they can take out a piece of my hide then,’ he said.

  He didn’t wait for an answer. He was unlikely to get one anyway. He turned from the room. Smith followed in his wake.

  In the living room, Euan handed Smith a duffle bag heavy with ammunition and explosives. The young man’s eyes were wide as he unzipped the clasp and glimpsed the contents that glimmered like steel innards. His fingers didn’t shake when he finally zipped it shut and he only winced slightly as he shouldered the bag. A slight hitch in his breath had Euan turn towards him.

  ‘The shoulder?’ he asked.

  ‘Fine.’

  Euan pulled his own pack on his back. He took two pairs of gloves from the kitchen countertop and threw one to Smith. ‘You don’t need to come with me. You can just tell me where he’s hiding.’

  Smith caught the gloves easily but didn’t put them on. He shook his head; his pale scalp shone in the overhead lighting. ‘You’ll never find him, and even if you did, he’ll kill you on sight.’

  Euan couldn’t help the snort of incredibility. ‘He’ll try.’

  Smith’s retort was resigned. ‘I won’t let you kill him.’

  Euan turned. His gaze lingered on a boy forced to be a man. He saw hunched shoulders and wary eyes, fisted hands and a defiant stance.

  Euan remembered bodies hanging from meat hooks, the bloody walls of a fighting pit, the emaciated frame of a damaged woman listless over his shoulder.

  He recalled a glinting gold tooth and a gas station equipped with hospital equipment and expired antibiotics, guarded by men with guns and weapons of war.

  He’d do whatever needed to be done to achieve his goal.

  His voice held no inflection. ‘Let’s go.’

  Chapter 19

  Nick was slow to wake. His body ached. His head was stuffed with handfuls of cotton wool. His abs pinched with the memory of overuse and a smile stretched across his face at the recollection of why that was the case.

  He untangled his hand from the sheets and lazily pushed it through the rumpled bedding. Where he expected to find hard, masculine muscles, coarse hair and warm skin, he discovered only an expanse of unoccupied mattress.

  His eyes snapped open. The sheets his hand rested on were cold. A vacant depression spoke louder than any words could.

  Cobalt eyes framed by blonde lashed blinked his way. Kira’s shoulder was exposed where the bedding had slipped. The sharp angles of her collarbone drew his eye. As Nick remained still, she reached out across the bed and found his wandering hand.

  Nick gripped what she offered and sat up. He raked his fingers through his hair with his free hand before he focused on the closed door.

  Beige encased them. The rumpled bedding was various shades of purple. Geometric patterns interlaced with white and grey. The room smelt of lavender and sex.

  And the emptiness between them felt as though it was a physical blow. A smack to the face where the sting only grew in strength.

  He turned to Kira, who was still tangled in the sheets. ‘He was gone when you woke up?’ he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

  The silence that stretched out between them was brutal. A tear slid from the corner of Kira’s eye and wet the pillowcase. It blossomed into a tiny circle of moisture. She swallowed then nodded, handing him a crumpled piece of paper.

  Nick unfolded the soft parchment. It was brittle and worn from constant touch. Upon inspection, it was one of Euan’s drawings. A simple sketch Nick hadn’t seen before. It was the two of them, he and Kira, wrapped in each other’s arms, sleeping peacefully. Elegant words were written in an unsurprising flourish at the bottom.

  Don’t follow.

  A man of few words, both in life and in print.

  He’d left them. Last night was the man’s version of goodbye. Stoic and silent. Unrepentant and so fucking selfish.

  A surge of fury burst through him, but he breathed through the burning flame. Kira didn’t need his anger at this moment. He lashed his emotions down and shifted until he could pull her body into his arms. She moved willingly between his spread legs, until his lean form was wrapped around her. Her head was in his shoulder, her naked chest was pressed to his; the heat of her skin warmed him.

  Her sobs were silent and her body trembled as she shed silent tears into his neck.

  Nick loved Euan. But sometimes, like right now, he wanted find him, tie him down and beat the living shit out of him.

  They sat that way together, time inconsequential as Kira expressed her broken heart though wordless sorrow. He wove it into the marrow of his bones. He took everything she gave to him without a single word of frustration or rebuke. He bore her grief as he would bear his own feeling of betrayal at Euan’s departure … and after such a beautifully sweet and poignant night together.

  Alongside Euan’s absence came a sensation of cowardly dread. A nauseous swirl of detachment and uncertainty. The ramifications and unavoidable responsibilities were enough to have Nick attempt to ignore the clamminess of his hands. In that moment, he was the child left behind after a father had left for war. The concept of being the man of the house overwhelmed him, shocked him.

  The last time Euan had left him he’d been brutalised, tortured. Alone, he was unable to defend himself.

  Now he was expected to protect himself and others?

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Kira sniffed into his skin.

  Yell, cry, punch someone in the face. ‘Let me go out first and see what we’re dealing with.’

  Kira was slow to reply. ‘Okay.’

  Nick took his time to disengage himself from Kira’s arms. When she pulled he
r face from him, her cheeks were pink from her tears. Her wet eyelashes clumped around red-rimmed blue eyes. Her platinum-blonde hair had darkened without the sun’s rays to naturally bleach it. It had grown, and Nick got a kick out of the extra length. But he could tell it frustrated her. She pushed it back from her face with an irritated swipe.

  He was angry at himself he’d missed the tide of emotion that had risen inside the quiet mind of the stubborn powerhouse. Kira felt it too, the pull between anger and hurt, rage and rejection. He reached out once more and pulled her petite body back down to his. He kissed her gently, tenderly. The overflow of devotion poured into her. He tasted salt and pulled back to cup her head against his chest. She sighed, and the warmth and womanly scent of her seeped into him though his skin. A slither of tightness in his chest relaxed.

  He squeezed her tighter.

  She shuddered as she breathed. Her shoulders rose and fell. ‘Love wasn’t enough. We should have broken his legs.’

  Nick snorted past the clog in his throat. ‘Damn straight.’

  Kira’s eyes were on him as he dressed. The burn of her regard seared his skin. He watched her watch him as he did the fastening to his fatigues. His smirk was rueful when she licked her lips. He left her still tangled in the bedsheets, her forehead wet with his kiss.

  He had the urge to hit something, to vent his anger and fear through curse words and violence. But first, he had to see the proof for himself. He craved for his instincts to be wrong, that he’d find Euan in the surveillance room, his bearded face washed in grey light. Or he would be in one of the storage rooms, a clipboard in his hand as he catalogued their inventory for the thousandth time.

  But he held the loss in his gut. It was irrefutable, certain as the sun rising in the east.

  The bastard had taken it upon himself to right the wrongs of the world.

  Euan McKay, saviour of humanity.

  But a betrayer to him and Kira.

  The second bedroom was unlocked, the door open and the room empty. The bedding from the bottom bunk had been stripped so it could be made into a small nest inside the closet. Nick frowned at the sight and carried on, until he reached the living room.

  Lily sat on the leather couch, a glass of water cupped in her hands. He ignored her, ran his fingers through his hair and hauled himself up the ladder to the main exit. He took two rungs at a time. He put his hand to the lever that would open the hatch and pulled with all his might.

  It didn’t budge.

  Nick snarled. ‘That motherfucker.’

  He wrapped both hands around the lever. He used all of his weight in an attempt to shift it. There was not an inch of movement. ‘When I catch that bastard, I’m gonna murder him.’

  ‘Nick?’ the small, feminine voice called from across the room.

  Nick turned his head from his position on the ladder as Kira walked on bare feet into the main room. She’d dressed in a simple shirt and skirt. The edges of the cotton stretched and worn. Little flowers were embroidered in the collar. The colour a pastel pink.

  His throat tightened. She was so vulnerable, so fucking girly and innocent. The lie was on his lips. To pretend, to delay the inevitable, the tears and curse words that would follow. The fresh pain he would have to witness. The lancing agony he himself would bear.

  He told her the truth, as much as it hurt her to hear it. ‘He locked us in.’

  Blue eyes widened. The reply was shocked. ‘He wouldn’t …’

  ‘He fucking well did.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because he’s an asshole?’

  Kira’s eyes swept the room, as if she’d find the answer to the puzzle of Euan’s overprotective mind written in the furniture, displayed on the walls. Finally, her focus fell on Lily. ‘Smith’s gone too?’

  Lily rolled the empty glass between her two hands and nodded.

  Nick jumped down. His landing was loud. He raked his hair, his eyes to the ceiling, and cried, ‘Fuck!’

  Kira fell to her ass on the couch next to Lily. ‘The escape hatch? The storage entrance?’

  Nick began to pace. The living room with its mahogany dining table set for four, the brown leather chair, the buffet unit and kitchen shrunk. The walls constricted and the ceiling lowered. Nick’s chest heaved as if the oxygen was limited.

  ‘We’ll give them a go,’ he panted, ‘but I’ll give up my left nut if they’re unlocked.’ He turned to Lily. ‘He say anything to you?’

  She shook her head. Her dark hair, free of dirt and tangles, brushed her shoulders. Her eyes were on the glass in her hand. Her feet were grazed and cut from her journey without shoes. Her toes curled into the carpet.

  ‘What about Smith?’ he demanded. ‘The man could hardly stand yesterday. All that blood he lost—you’re a surgeon, don’t you have an oath? How’d you let him out the door?’

  Her eyes remained downcast. Her shoulders hunched. That glass moved slowly back and forth between her two palms. The shake of her head continued.

  Nick cocked his jaw and grunted in aggravation. Euan had chosen him once. When the giant had been given the decision to seek vengeance or take care of what was important, he’d picked him. Nick had thought of that all through the days and nights he suffered nightmares, memories of his time at the hands of three monsters. It had been the single salvation. The reason he didn’t end it all when Euan slept. Especially when everything else had seemed impossible. He didn’t know what had happened to make Euan decide to leave. That abandoning them was the best option. But his gut told him it was a combination of what he had seen when he’d left the bunker, and the beauty they had created last night.

  They should have broken his legs.

  Damn the motherfucking cocksucker.

  He walked to Lily. He crouched before her, and removed the glass from her hands. He placed it on the coffee table behind him. His words were gentle when he spoke. ‘How long?’

  Her lips thinned. She blinked. ‘Hours.’

  Nick swallowed. His chest tightened, his hands tingled, his stomach turned. Euan had remained silent as to what happened when they had retrieved the wayward woman. Smith too. It was monumental enough to force them both to leave, without a word, without a trace, and to lock the door behind them. Secure those inside so they couldn’t get out. So no soul could get in.

  But there was a glimmer of information that might solve a riddle. ‘You said last night that things in Nirvana changed after Euan and I came through?’

  Two things happened. Lily met his gaze and she grasped his hand. The fire in her eyes was pulverising.

  Nick tried to recoil. But he was held still, by both her eyes and her physical touch.

  Her words were whispered. ‘Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.’

  Nick froze. All the muscles turned to stone. His heart stuttered, his breath caught. Adrenaline shocked his system back to life, and flowed through a body encased in concrete. That quotation had been written by Euan’s hand. A hand that had been strapped in white bandages in preparation to fight for their lives. They had been surrounded by vulgarity and human waste, and Euan had quoted Shakespeare.

  ‘Say again?’ he breathed.

  Lily’s eyes were her mother’s, but her features were all Mickey-O. The dirt, the hollowed cheeks and wasted frame had obscured what was right before him. That same mouth, the angle of her nose. Prettier, a woman’s characteristics, but her parentage could not be mistaken. ‘It became their mantra. They called themselves the Valiant,’ she whispered.

  Nick swallowed. Shook his head. Kira leaned over and placed a reassuring hand on his knee. Squeezed. It was his girl who nodded to Lily to go on.

  ‘Your …’ the woman paused, ‘affection for each other was noticed.’

  Nick’s focus flashed to Kira. Her face as the picture of confusion. They both turned to Lily in unison. Nick said, ‘So?’

  Lily almost smiled. ‘So it caused a rift. Those who wanted to share in celebrating what you two ha
d, and those who didn’t.’

  Nick’s lips firmed. Society was a crumbling wreck. Violence sheltered in every shadow, humanity lost to the wind. And grown men were still scared of another man’s dick.

  Jesus.

  Nick’s lip curled. He knew the face of homophobia. He’d lived in a small town. He had been a gentle boy, a confused teen, then a determined man. He’d come out as gay only because bisexual was unprecedented. To fall for Euan had been easy; it had been the strength needed to push the larger man past his prejudices that had been painful, especially for his jaw. ‘And Mickey-O wanted to see all the faggots crushed, right?’

  The fire that flared in whisky-gold eyes made him jerk. The long-fingered hand curled into his. Her short nails bit into his skin. ‘You’re so naive,’ she hissed.

  Nick leaned in to meet her defiant stare, despite the warning from Kira. Her fist tightened around his knee. ‘Then enlighten me.’

  Lily’s voice was hoarse. ‘My father built Nirvana to stop men like Death and the Reaper from consuming what is left of mankind. He built it so survivors felt hope. If that hope meant men loving other men, if that kept them from killing and destroying each other because they were bored. Or taking their own lives out of loneliness, hopelessness; then he was all for it.’

  Nick’s brows creased. His obvious confusion saw Lily continue. Her breath was warm on his face. ‘You stupid fool. You think I’m the only woman Mickey-O kept safe? You think you’re the only man who loves another man in this hell?’

  Uncertainty had built a fortress inside Nick’s chest. His laughter was sardonic. He pulled his hand from hers with a shake. ‘Kept safe? The woman we took from there was nothing but skin and bone. She killed herself before she assumed she’d be hurt again. And look at you? You’d been kept safe?’

  Lily flicked her hands in the direction of her emaciated body, hidden under layers of Kira’s clothes. ‘This happened because my dad was defeated and they took me and John as collateral. What happened to the other woman had nothing to do with my father.’

  Nick still wasn’t convinced. ‘There was no protection for anyone in that place. It was hell on earth. I saw it all. They made Euan fight for his life. For my life.’