Dangerous Lovers

by Becca Vincenza

  Ludwig Tenebris and his New World order. The one man who had succeeded in bringing the world to its knees with just a flick of the switch. Communications across the ocean were non-existent, so it wasn’t known if anyone survived in other continents. There was no more television, or internet and computers. Ludwig had managed to cut off everyone’s eyes and ears to the outside world.

  What did these rebels really think they could accomplish? Not only did Ludwig have his own clearly destructive army, he also had strategic ties to getting bombs and guns. He had more ammunition at his fingertips than anyone else in history. They were doomed. Charlotte understood this. She only wished everyone else did too, so situations like the one she was currently in didn’t happen.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” her mother replied, snapping Charlotte out of her thoughts. She turned to look at her mom for the first time since the soldiers arrived. She’d never met anyone as stubborn as the woman who brought her into this foul world. It was one of the things that Charlotte equally hated and respected about her. Seeing her, spine straight, chin lifted errantly as she met a soldier’s glare with one of her own, Charlotte realized that, even now when things were quite possibly at their worst, her mother had no intention of backing down. Bad idea. The New World army had the authority to kill whenever, wherever, and whoever they wanted. You didn’t piss them off – number one rule.

  “Like hell you don’t, woman,” the soldier said. “If you won’t tell me, perhaps you’ll be more cooperative with Roman.”

  Where the hell was her father? Could it be true? Was he a rebel and she just never realized it? Would he sit by and just watch his family be destroyed while he stayed protected? The fact that her instinctive reply to that question was ‘yes’ left a sour taste in her mouth. When was the last time he had done anything to help this family? Why start now? She needed to find out the truth.

  Closing her eyes, she let her mind clear like she had done so many times before. This was her biggest secret, one her parents continually stressed to keep within the family. No one understood why Charlotte could do what she could. Her mother suggested it was a side-effect from the radiation in the atmosphere. A lot of people had gotten sick that first year after the initial waves of bombings. Babies were born with deformities and health issues. It seemed logical to assume her new ‘gift’ was caused by an outside source. Her grandmother, however, had always held that Charlotte had been touched by God.

  “He gave you a special gift so you could use it to help find your path in life,” she’d say. That was right before she passed away a year ago. At that point she had been nothing but skin on bones. Charlotte hated to think of it. She always tried to remember her how she used to be before the cancer took hold. When she had been bright and vibrant. That was the last time she remembered feeling sad about anything. After, it was like nothing could touch her behind the walls she had built. It was the only way to survive now. Be strong, or be killed. She chose to be strong.

  Charlotte focused on her mother, reaching forward with her mental hands stretched wide, and grasped onto the thoughts now flowing through her mind. She cringed from what she heard there. Her mother’s thoughts were frantic despite her calm exterior. Charlotte knew without a doubt her father was involved with the rebels. She tried to search deeper, to figure out the exact extent of his involvement, but hit a wall. She opened her eyes to look at her mother. She was blocking her out. She must have known Charlotte would search her, and she was intentionally keeping her thoughts hidden. Her mother turned, meeting Charlotte’s eyes, and very subtly shook her head.

  Charlotte’s heart sank. Normally she would have never read her mother’s thoughts. Long ago, she promised herself and her family members that she would never invade their privacy in such a way. To be honest, she hardly ever used her unusual gift at all. Reading another person’s thoughts felt so wrong, the deepest sort of intrusion. Charlotte looked away.

  Now that her mind was open, she was bombarded with the thoughts from the men around them. She flinched under the assault, trying her best to push away the vile voices and images. The bald one was already planning their deaths, the dark skinned one was acutely aware of Charlotte’s sixteen year old, blossoming body, and the other was now outside on the phone with who Charlotte assumed was Roman.

  She was well aware of who Roman was. Ludwig’s second in command had made quite a name for himself over the past few years. No one messed with Roman Adamson. She actually admired that about him. If people looked at her the same way they did him she wouldn’t be in this stinking mess.

  “Where’s dad?” Charlotte said.

  “Shh,” her mother replied. And that was all. No explanation, no reassuring words. Nothing. The second most dangerous man in the New World was on his way to their house, and her father was completely MIA. Charlotte reached out to search her mother again but found only the wall, as if his safety was more important than their own. She was covering for him, willing to take a bullet if it meant he was safe. Charlotte fumed.

  “Tie their hands and feet,” the squad leader ordered as he came back inside. “Roman is five minutes away.”

  Charlotte tried to struggle as the dark skinned one grabbed her. His hands brushed the sides of her breasts then hesitated just on the top of her backside as he tied her hands together, stretching her arms painfully back. He let his own hands trail down her legs to her feet before binding them as well.

  “You don’t look so smug now, do you?” the leader said, spitting on the floor in front of her mother. Charlotte kept her eyes down. There was a noise outside and then heavy boots sounded in the doorway. Charlotte glanced at those boots but not at the face they belonged to. She could hear his thoughts as he took in the scene before him. He looked over the ransacked room disinterestedly before turning his focus to them. Walking over slowly, his footsteps echoed like the gentle rhythm of impending doom. The air around them tensed, like even the house was holding its breath to see what he would do.

  “Emily and Charlotte Hatcher,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. “Wife and youngest daughter of a Douglas Hatcher.” He stopped just in front of them, his boots close to their faces, the same ones all the rest wore. “There is also an older daughter, no? Bridgette Hatcher, also currently missing.” Charlotte heard him crouch down. “You’re missing half your family, Mrs. Hatcher. Care to tell me where I might find them?”

  “I don’t know,” her mother maintained. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

  He made a clicking noise with his tongue. “That’s unfortunate,” he said. “Am I to assume your opposition is because of your rebel affiliation?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” her mother answered. Lie. Charlotte cringed, hearing the falsehood of that statement loud and clear.

  He chuckled. “I’m sure you don’t.” He stood up again. “Perhaps the daughter knows.”

  “I don’t,” Charlotte said.

  There was a pause before Roman spoke. “Pardon me?”

  “I don’t know where he is,” she said again. Although she wished she did. Perhaps she’d have no problem telling these men where to find Douglas Hatcher. Why have a sense of loyalty to a man who had practically forgotten about her for the last decade of her life? He was cold and apparently working toward a goal that was idiotic at best. Charlotte looked up for the first time, her breath catching in her lungs. Dark eyes looked down at her curiously from a young, handsome face. Long, dark hair hung loose and damp around his face to just below his shoulders. He was huge, broad shoulders making the uniform look even more intimidating than usual. His eyes narrowed at her. She looked down again, sensing for the first time her mother’s renewed distress. Charlotte just started to turn toward her when she cried out.

  “Wait,” her mother said, her voice panicked. A loud shot pulsed through the room. Charlotte fell to the side, her ears ringing. The sounds around her were muffled now as she blinked slowly, her face pressed to the hardwood floor. Two hands gra
bbed her roughly, placing her back on her knees. A warm wetness soaked through the knees of her pants. She looked down beside her, a chill washing over her entire body. Even if she had wanted to scream, she doubted she could against the tightness in her throat.

  On the floor lay her mother, the back of her head now a gaping hole. Charlotte couldn’t see her face, and for that she was glad. Blood pooled around her. She choked back the urge to vomit. Her mother was dead. A bitter taste filled her mouth. They hadn’t been close, but no daughter should have to see this. Charlotte wasn’t even sure how to begin to process the sight before her. Emily Hatcher was gone and her lying, spineless, coward of a husband was nowhere to be found. He left them to this, and now Charlotte’s life would end before it ever really began.

  “Where is he?”

  Charlotte looked up, resentment filling every ounce of her body. “He’s not here,” she said. But I am, she thought. And there was no way she was leaving the way her mother had. She’d do anything to stay alive so that one day she would be able to face her father again and tell him how he had failed them all.

  Roman crouched in front of her, a smile playing on his lips. “Do you realize, little girl,” he said, Charlotte instantly taking offense to the way he addressed her. Roman could be no more than twenty, not that much older than her. “That I haven’t spoken a word to you since I entered? Did you know that?”

  Charlotte stilled, realization slamming into her like a wrecking ball – her mother’s sudden distress made sense. Jesus, she cursed. She had answered Roman’s questions thinking he had said them out loud, but he hadn’t. For years her parents stressed the need to keep her ability a secret. She was in deep shit. Her mouth was dry and cottony.

  “Can you hear my thoughts, Charlotte?” he asked, looking closely at her.

  Her eyes went to her mother’s dead body then back to him. Anger at her for letting herself die over this, and anger at her father for putting them all in danger to begin with, raced through her. Above that, the desire to stay alive pulsed loudly in her veins. “Yes,” she answered.

  A pleased smiled spread across his face, taking it from scary to breathtaking in one small shift of his lips. “How interesting,” he said. “Tell me, did your mother know where your father is?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “She was blocking me out.”

  Roman watched her for a second before nodding his head slowly. “I believe you,” he said, shocking her. “And I can see the anger in your eyes. You’re mad at him, aren’t you?”

  “He’s a selfish prick,” she said without thinking.

  He laughed, throwing his head back. “Excellent,” he exclaimed. He stood, looking over his shoulder at the other three soldiers standing there. They suddenly looked nervous, their eyes glancing anxiously at her. They were scared of her. They knew she had heard all the things they’d been thinking since they got here. Her eyes met the one who tied her. He quickly looked away, his face paling. Never in her entire life had she felt as powerful as she did then, even as she knelt in her mother’s blood, her hands and feet bound behind her.

  “Untie her,” Roman ordered. “She comes with me. You continue to look for signs of the rebels. Don’t return until this whole place has been searched and burned.”

  “Yes sir,” they said together.

  The squad leader stepped forward, cutting the ropes. She stood shakily, stretching out her aching limbs. Her eyes went back to her mother’s body, a mixture of anger and remorse washing over her.

  “Come, Charlotte,” Roman said from the doorway. “I have someone I want you to meet.”

  When Roman had entered her house, Charlotte could feel his presence. Some sort of intangible force surrounded him, demanding respect. He had nothing on Ludwig Tenebris. She was led into a large office, the floor to ceiling windows across from her bathing the room in a misleading warmth. Ludwig stood behind his desk, dark eyes watching her intently as she approached. He hadn’t said a word, and yet every hair on her arms stood on end. A shiver ran down her spine at the cold, calculated expression on his face, the power he exuberated with just the way he held himself.

  “What do we have here?” he said. Charlotte swallowed against the dryness in her mouth. If surviving meant going along with whatever Roman had planned, then she was all for it. Dying was not an option. She would survive, and in time, she would grow to be strong enough to break away, find her sister, and get the hell away from London. Now, as she stood before the New World leader, she wondered if she’d ever make it out.

  “A special treat,” Roman replied. “One I think you will rather enjoy.” A hand landed on her lower back, pushing her forward. She stumbled closer, her eyes locked on Ludwig.

  “What’s your name, girl?”

  “Charlotte Hatcher.”

  Eyebrows shot up in surprise as Ludwig glanced at Roman questioningly. “Think of a number,” Roman said.

  “Pardon me?” said Ludwig.

  Roman laughed. “Ludwig, trust me, would you?”

  The New World leader looked between the two of them doubtfully. “I’m starting to wonder if that’s such a good idea anymore,” he said.

  “Humour me at the very least. You won’t be disappointed.”

  “Twelve,” Charlotte said immediately. The second he had thought of it she heard it easily. His eyes shot to hers, widening in surprise. “Eighteen. Sixty two. Eighty nine.” God, Charlotte thought, how long is he going to do this? “Two thousand, five hundred and six.”

  “How is she doing it?” he asked.

  “She reads minds,” Roman said from behind her. Charlotte could hear the smile in his voice. Ludwig sat down behind his desk, his gaze never leaving her face.

  “A girl who reads minds,” he said slowly. He leaned back in his chair, hands clasped loosely over his stomach. “My girl, I do believe you will be my greatest weapon yet.” The smile that stretched across his face made her stomach turn, but she kept her expression blank. They stared at each other in silence for a moment before he looked over at Roman. “And the father?”

  “We didn’t find him.”

  He nodded, looking back at her. “I bet he’ll be looking for you though, won’t he? Have a room prepared for our newest addition to the New World order.”

  Her ears began to hum, their voices fading against the buzzing sound. Had she seriously just joined the New World army? It’s just to stay alive, she told herself. She could handle being around them for now. She’d been forcing herself to deal with shitty circumstances all her life. This was just simply new surroundings and different people. Her wall would stay firmly in place, and now she would have the opportunity to grow and ensure a future for herself. She would stay until she found her sister, and then she and Bridgette would leave everything and everyone behind. This was just one more stepping stone in the right direction. She could handle it. She had to.

  “She needs a new name,” Ludwig was saying as she gave herself a mental shake and focused on the conversation around her.

  “A new name?” she said, her voice shaky.

  He nodded. “I can’t very well have everyone calling you Charlotte, now can I? Your father will know exactly where to find you if I do. A new name, a new life.”

  A new name. A new life. A new identity, she thought.

  He looked at her through narrowed eyes, thinking. “Dinah,” he eventually said, sitting forward. “Yes, it’s perfect. From now on you will be called Dinah.”

  And just like that, Charlotte Hatcher was dead.

  Chapter One

  5 years later…

  New Berlin, 2040

  The man slumped to the floor, tears streaming down his face. Dinah looked on in disgust. She hated tears. They were a sign of weakness and served no purpose. She stood behind Ludwig’s chair, to his left, like she always did, Roman on the right. This whole scene was frustratingly familiar, as if she were living the same day over and over again. People were brought in, suspected of being rebels. More lies and, inevitably, death. She
could tell from the way this one was blubbering that they wouldn’t be getting much out of him.

  “Lottey,” Roman whispered.

  She looked over, annoyed. “Stop calling me that,” she snapped. She hated when Roman called her by her old name. Charlotte meant free man. Her father had been molding her into a rebel right from the beginning, and she didn’t like to be reminded of that. Dinah, meaning justified, felt more natural to her now. It fit, considering she now served as Ludwig’s judge and jury. She’d been going by it for five years and yet Roman still couldn’t manage to call her by it.

  She threw him a hard look, even though her mouth quirked up in a smile. He wouldn’t be able to see it anyway because of the mask she wore. Another of Ludwig’s changes for her. Dinah was required to wear a similar uniform to the men, but with a slight change – a light black shirt with a hood that went over not just her head, but her entire face. There was a thin opening for her to see through, but everything else was covered. She always thought she looked like a ninja – but way cooler, of course.

  “A necessary must, I’m afraid,” Ludwig had said when he first brought the clothing to her. “If anyone realizes you are a woman, they will start to doubt your strength. We can’t have that if you are to be my third in command,” he explained. He didn’t say it, but she knew he also wanted to keep her hidden from her father. Not that she knew if he was even alive. No one had seen her father in years. He had literally dropped off the face of the earth.

  Ludwig was still convinced he was alive and that if he knew where she was, her father would try and get her. Dinah doubted it, since he left her to her demise to begin with, but Ludwig wasn’t to be swayed from his belief. She didn’t mind anymore, even if the hood did get hot now and again. It added a sense of mystery to her, and she knew how unnerved it made people when they saw her. Ludwig’s “Weapon X,” they liked to call her. Of course, they had no idea she was a girl. She hadn’t been blessed with overly feminine curves, so the ruse was complete.