by Angel Lawson
“Is that why they beat down on that kid the other night?” the male asks.
Astrid straightens. Beat down? Below, Owen flattens himself against the wall.
“He was involved in the property damage with Kincade. She helped get him out.”
“How do you know that?”
“That’s just what I was told. He was compromised. It’s not a surprise they eliminated him.”
Fear seizes Astrid.
“They killed him?” the guy asks.
“No, but he’s in the hospital. I doubt he’ll rub elbows with them again.”
The two guards keep walking and once they’re around the corner, Astrid drops down and lands next to Owen with a soft thud. He glances at her. “I’m sure you heard that.”
“Yep.” She’s already walking off.
“You think they’re talking about Luby?”
“Yes.” Her fists ball in rage and she picks up her pace. The hospital is three miles away. She reaches for her com, realizing she doesn’t have one. Dammit. “This is my fault.”
“No, it’s not.”
“I reached out to him. More than once. I also backed off when I shouldn’t have. The Task Force doesn’t care about these people. They’re just lackeys for the mayor and whatever his stupid agenda is.”
“What is his agenda?” Owen asks, hand on her arm.
“I don’t know, but I can’t imagine Jensen is behind harming kids from the Swamp. After we check on Luby, I’m going to find out.”
*
The strong scent of antiseptic stings Astrid’s nostrils and she steadies herself.
“I know,” Owen says before she can speak. “I don’t like doctors or hospitals or needles either.”
Project 12 made that impossible.
Astrid did get ahold of Casper via phone and he got her everything she needed from the hospital. Luby didn’t need anyone knowing they’d come to check on him. Not the nurses or doctors. Especially not the mayor, who seems to have a long reach.
Using Casper’s directions, they find Luby’s room quickly. He’s propped in a bed, his pale face bruised. He turns when she walks in but there’s not much of a reaction.
“Hey,” she says, approaching the bed. His arm is in a cast. His left arm, thankfully. He paints with his right. “We got here as soon as we found out. Mick and Quinn will be here soon. Can you tell me what happened?”
The kid winces when he swallows. “I think I’ve already talked too much. You probably should go.”
His eye is swollen shut. Whoever got him did a number on him. “This was about me? How?”
“Not about you, but my ‘hood doesn’t take to snitches lightly. Apparently, the wrong people found out about my relationship with Echo. They started following me back and forth to work. Your man Rowe must have seen me that day you made a fool of him in the gym.”
She reaches for his hand but Owen holds her back. He’s right. Luby trembles with fear and rage. His pain radiates above everything else.
“I’m so sorry. I’m sure Echo is, too. She never wanted people to get hurt like this.”
“Yeah,” he says, glancing at the blank TV hanging on the wall. “That’s the Swamp. They keep you down. There’s no getting out. Ask my grandma. Ask my ma. They lived there their entire lives, working to escape. There is no escape,” he says, “other than in the back of a police car or an ambulance.”
“Man, don’t think that,” Owen says. “This is a shitty situation, but you’re smart and talented.”
Tears brim in Luby’s eyes. Owen’s assurances do nothing to make him feel better. A wave of dark, depressing emotions crash into Astrid and she grabs onto Owen’s arm to stay upright.
“Where’s your grandmother?” she asks.
“Took her away. Some old folks’ home or something. They won’t tell me.”
“We’ll find out, okay?”
“Don’t,” he says. His dark eyes meet hers. They’re pleading. “Stay away from me and my family. Help from outsiders only causes more trouble.”
“Okay,” Astrid reluctantly agrees. “I understand, but be careful, and if you need me, you know where to find me.”
He turns his eyes back to the TV and clicks it on with the remote. The sound of cartoons fills the room. There’s nothing left to say and whatever she could, he’s not going to listen. They step into the hallway.
“I’m going to kill him,” she says, once the door is closed.
“Who?”
“Rowe,” she replies through clenched teeth. “I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but I’m taking that bastard down.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Astrid
The gas station only has one car at the pumps, an older gray Honda. The driver is a teenage girl and Astrid passes by her to park near the dumpster. Jensen’s black SUV idles in the spot next to hers. She gets out of her car and gets into his.
“Why the cloak and dagger?” he asks.
“Because I don’t trust your men and I don’t want to be seen with you at the agency.”
A line creases his forehead. “Did something happen?”
“Luby was attacked. He’s in the hospital. He says Rowe did it in retaliation for working with Echo and the Elites.”
The anguish on his face is indescribable. “I’ll deal with it.”
Unacceptable. “I was told backing away from the Swamp would make people safer, but that was a lie. Rowe is out of control and if you don’t manage him, I will.”
Jensen reaches across the center console and grabs my arm. “No. Before, I gave you a chance. Now? I’m insisting. Stay out of it, Astrid.”
She looks at where his hand touches her skin. It’s not palm-to-palm but she can sense his emotions. He’s terrified. Angry. “I will not let him hurt people.”
“It’s under control.” It’s not a lie, but it’s also not the truth. There’s something more brimming under Jensen’s surface.
“Hell no it isn’t. You need my help.”
“Astrid,” he says. She’s never seen him so flustered. “This is bigger than you. It’s bigger than me. But do not fuck it up. Walk away. I can’t protect you from what’s coming.”
“The terrorists?”
His eyes tell her there’s more. So much more.
And that’s when the trigger flips.
Her reflexes are fast and she grabs his hand, doing something she never had the guts to do before. She pushes past that first blast of fear to the top layer.
Rowe, the mayor, Kincade, Blaze. Jensen met with them all.
Blaze? How? Why? She grinds her teeth, fighting the betrayal, and digs deeper, past the mundane, to the buried truth. She rocks back when she finds it.
White house with a wide porch. Black SUV. Little faces. Blonde hair. Hats, coats. Kitty cat. Needles. Tests. Fire.
She takes his hand in both of hers, holding on as he tries to twist away.
“You were there,” she says, the images flooding her brain. The doctor that pricked her skin. Atticus, young and in a suit. Holden. Emma. Faces flash before her. Less gray hair. Fewer lines on their faces. Feeling the heat of the explosion. She recoils, yanking her hands away. “You knew everything.”
He looks helpless. Lost. The whole charade of their lives is crumbling. “You’re not my friend. You’re one of them.”
“Astrid, look, it’s a complex situation.”
“Did you kill him?” she asks, reaching for his arm again. He pulls back and she sees the flash of metal. His gun. “You killed Atticus, didn’t you? It was someone he knew.” Her hands start to shake and her emotions roll over the both of them like a tidal wave. The car vibrates, creaking and groaning beneath him.
“I didn’t kill him. You don’t understand. I’ll tell you everything, but you have to calm down.”
White rage blinds her and she covers her ears with her hands. She no longer hears his voice but senses the door opening and closing. All she can think of is Atticus dead in the front seat of the van, blood dripping ev
erywhere. The feel of Quinn’s lips on hers. She should have known. She got distracted. She should have sensed it. He was there all along.
The emotions; the pain, the anger, frustration, guilt, guilt, guilt consume her every fiber.
Astrid closes her eyes and screams and screams and screams.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Draco
Frantic banging on the back door of the cottage almost scares the shit out of him. Like, he may have actually shit in his pants if he wasn’t genetically attuned for sudden attack. With the book in his hand held like a weapon, Draco leaps out of his chair and approaches the door, stopping when he looks out the window. A thin Japanese man slams his fists on the door and Draco blinks twice before opening it, processing the situation.
“Casper?” he asks, once they stand face-to-face. The goblin is awash in daylight, wide-eyed and shaking. Draco searches over the man’s shoulder toward the bunker. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s A-A-A, Astrid.”
The hair on the back of his neck stands on end. Nothing else would get him out of that bunker.
“Is she hurt?”
“There’s an e-e-e-vent on the highway.” He tenses at his speech. “She’s h-h-hurt.”
“You know how to find her?”
He nods.
“I’ll drive.”
The gas station is out of the city and Draco speeds through the streets in the BMW. The car handles the speed well, hugging the curves and gliding in and out of traffic.
Casper stares at him as he punches it to make it through a yellow light, his pale hands gripping the seat. “W-w-w-who taught you to drive l-l-like this?”
He shrugs and shifts gears, leaving Crescent City behind, taking the speed up to 100. “Part of the genetic package, apparently.”
“Is there a-a-a-anything you can’t do?”
He thinks about Astrid and how badly he wants her and how he can’t let go enough to do it. From the look on Casper’s face, he suspects he knows about his flaw.
“Tell me how to find this place,” he says, and through his stammer, Casper explains that he had a tracker on her Jeep and she’d driven to meet up with Jensen. He didn’t have a verbal recording of what went on, but through the camera in the Jeep he witnessed them have some kind of altercation in the car. And then Astrid imploded.
He holds out a tablet that has a red beacon blinking in the middle.
“The c-c-c-ar started f-f-fucking shaking. She c-c-c-overed her eyes and ears. Then b-b-boom.” He makes a gesture with his hands like an explosion.
“An actual explosion?”
“More l-l-l-ike a wave of e-e-energy.”
Draco pushes the car to go faster.
Luckily, there’s only a few people standing around the car. Astrid is still sitting in the SUV, expression blank. The tires are flat. Her Jeep sits next to it. The windows on both cars are shattered. It’s only a matter of time before Jensen or someone on his team comes back for the vehicle and maybe her. They need to get out of here.
“Text Quinn. Tell him they need to get the Jeep and that I’ve got her,” he says, racing from the car. He opens the door and finds her, shocked and trembling in the passenger seat. He touches her cheek. “Astrid. We’re here. I’m going to take you home.”
Seeing her like this knocks the breath out of him and he’s thinking of her in that pink hat with cat ears, watching him lift weights in the group home gym. She was small and vulnerable then. He never thought he’d see it happen again, but whatever went on with Jensen tore her up. She did this to herself but something sparked it.
He’s going to find out what.
Leaning close, he expects her to fight back, but there’s no life in her. It’s like she’s drained of all energy. He glances at Casper, who sits in the car looking worried. He won’t come out. He’s already probably done more than he can.
“I don’t know what happened out here, but we’re going to fix it. You’re going to be okay. Got it?” She blinks and turns to face him. Impulsively, he brushes his lips against hers. He knows for once the jolt of energy isn’t manipulated in any way. She’s too burned out to play with his emotions.
No, that heat. That want. That…love? That’s all him and he knows it.
Carefully he picks her up, ignoring the people standing by the pumps, watching. Casper climbs over the seat and opens the back door from the inside. Draco lays her inside and the hacker takes her gently into his arms.
Once settled, Draco jumps in the driver’s seat and peels out of the parking lot.
He glances in the rearview mirror at Astrid; her eyes closed and exhausted in the back seat. Casper runs his hand through her hair. Draco presses down on the gas and heads home.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Astrid
Snuggled in like a caterpillar in a cocoon, Astrid wakes in a vaguely familiar room. Daylight fades in the windows and a fire crackles nearby. The gray blanket surrounding her smells heavenly; spicy and sweet at the same time. A faint heartbeat catches her attention, along with shallow breathing. She glances to her right and spots a stack of books. That’s when she realizes where she is.
Draco’s room.
Exhausted, she struggles to a sitting position, looking for Mr. Perfect. He’s not there, but in the chair by the fireplace she does see someone else. He’s focused on a tablet in his hands.
“Casper?” she asks, wincing at her raw throat.
He glances up and his eyes dart to the door. He’s going to run. Bolt like lightning, but she coughs and clarity clicks in his eyes. He runs over, stumbling over the rug. He fumbles with a glass next to the bed, filling it with water from a clear pitcher. He doesn’t speak but he hands her the glass. She drinks and eyes him carefully.
Finally seeing Casper, whose real name is Cedric, in person almost feels like seeing a ghost. She’s known him for months now; talked and joked around, worked and planned. She thinks they’re friends, at the very least teammates, but there’s no doubt about the distance between them.
He’s socially awkward. That part is obvious. Her empathy picks up on it immediately—a nervous vibration under his skin. He’s pale from his time inside, but not sickly. He must have access to some light. He’s thin, but like Draco told her, he does a little training. He’d probably die under one of her sessions at the gym. His cheekbones are killer, and his eyes a deep, soulful brown. His lips are turned down in a scowl, probably because she’s studying him.
“How did I get here?” she asks. “And why are you out of your bunker?” Her throat feels so raw.
“You w-w-w-were in trouble.” He stares at the ground.
“I remember being with Jensen and…” Her hand covers her mouth. “He told me…well I saw, I saw some bad shit.”
The frown leaves his mouth and he swallows thickly. “W-w-what…” he grimaces and balls his fists.
“Take your time.” She reaches for his arm but he steps back, obviously frustrated. “Seriously.”
His jaw clenches and he inhales. “W-w-what did you see?”
Oh, his voice. Something about it hits a nerve and tears well up. She’s wanted to hear it ever since she found out he was altering it. She fights off any acknowledgement of this, though. It would only make him angry.
“Jensen is part of it all. Project 12. He knew all our mentors. He knew us as kids. I don’t know what side he was on, but I accused him of killing Atticus.”
His eyes widen. “Did y-y-you see him do it?”
She shakes her head. “No. He says he didn’t. I don’t know, some people can hide things from me, and I was really upset.”
“The c-c-car. How?” his words are clipped, keeping him from speaking—stammering. She wishes he wasn’t so self-conscious about it.
“I just lost it. Like, one minute I was angry, and then the next it was like a build-up of everything. Fear, anger, frustration, rage. It was like I exploded.”
“You k-k-k-ind of did.” He shakes his head incredulously, but she also spots the smile
on his lips. “Totally f-f-fucked up the car.”
She still feels drained—lost. Picking at a thread on the quilt she says, “Every time I feel like I get a handle on something, that I gain a little bit of control in my life, something falls apart. It’s like my whole history is built on sand, you know.”
He nods. Of course, he knows.
“I met Quinn and Atticus died. I met you and Owen, and Demetria exploded in our lives. We got Draco and the team falls apart—sidelined. I gave Luby a job and he gets attacked. Now this with Jensen.” She sighs and rests her head on the pillow, releasing a gust of delicious Draco-smelling air. “I just want something consistent. Something sure. I want people and things to count on.”
Casper looks down on her, his black T-shirt frayed along the hem. Awkwardly, hesitantly, he reaches out and grazes her cheek with the back of his hand. She leans into it, knowing what he’s trying to say without words. She has him. She has the man who left her in this bed. She has Owen and Quinn, who are probably out there on the warpath right now.
“W-w-w-we’ll get through this.” His jaw tenses. “I’m n-n-not letting those b-b-bastards win.”
“I know.” She knows it but doesn’t feel it, not in her heart.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Quinn
The Jeep is right where Casper said it would be, around the side of the gas station near the dumpster. The SUV next to it looks like a prop out of a film—a car post-earthquake. The whole thing is broken down from the shattered windows to the flat tires.
“What the hell happened?” he mutters, pulling up next to it. Casper said to hurry, get the Jeep out of here fast before Jensen’s men returned. He didn’t get a response about what happened to Jensen in the first place. All the text said was:
We have Astrid
Get the Jeep
Jensen is compromised.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Owen says, getting out of the front seat.
