by Krys Janae
Charlie.
It looked like he was just leaving work at the firm…so Danika knew this had to be taken very recently by a spy or investigator camera with a high-powered, super expensive, telephoto lens.
“Charles Matthews, born Charles Spencer King on June…” Danika trailed off. “No…”
“D…” Frost’s voice was barely a whisper.
She read it again…and again….and again: Charles. Spencer. King.
“Dani…” Frost called out, his voice just a notch louder than before.
Danika wanted to vomit, but for the sake of saving her friends a trip to the commons to change their clothes—and her dignity, she did her best to hold it all in. She was on a merry-go-round, or that’s what it felt like, and she was in the eye of the storm, that platform in the center as everything spun out of control around her. She wanted to ask the questions: “How is this even possible?”, “Is this real?”, “How could he lie to us?”, but she couldn’t find her voice.
She wanted to call him back, just so she could obliterate him where he stood. It didn’t matter that she was still recovering and could barely walk. She wanted this burning sensation out of the pit of her stomach, the anger behind her eyes to die down; she could hardly see anything in the room through her rage. Everything in sight was framed with a red and black filter.
The pair had made it over to her side and they might have been talking, but she couldn’t hear their words over the loud throbbing of her heartbeat in her ears.
Right now, the most important thought stood out, and it wasn’t a question at all.
“Dani…” Frost lowered his frosty blues to search hers, but he stayed in her peripheral view. The look in her eye was quite lethal.
Callie gulped.
“I’m going to kill him.”
The Truth Will Set You Free
When word reached Charlie about Danika’s progress a few days later, he returned to base to visit. With Danika having gotten her rest, he expected her to be pleasant, perhaps not all smiles but something a lot lighter than the usual grumpiness of her whiskey hangovers. Aside from the interruption from Sloane, they had a delightful luncheon together just last week, so he was hoping for more of that side of her.
It was mid-afternoon when he arrived at headquarters, but instead of praise for finding it on his own for the first time, his welcoming party consisted of concerned eyes and Danika already stalking towards him, and she was pissed. She walked with a purpose, her heavy steps marked with precision on their course.
“Danika—Hey! You’re up—”
Danika didn’t say a word when she raised her hand and reached for him. The white glow of her hands was bright and intense as she used the Gale to suspend him in the air.
“D—hey! What the hell are you doing?” Frost darted toward her, panicked, and he tried to hold her back. His cool palm touched her arm and she looked to him, eyes full of the anger he knew she held inside her.
Others were shouting too, trying to get her back to her senses but it was no use. It was just noise to her. Background noise that was nothing more than a distraction. She held on tight. Now that she was out of bed, and out of her cage, she was doing things her way, and it was time to stop pulling her punches.
“Danika! Put him down!” Morgan roared from the top of the stairs to his office and descended the steps, practically flying down to stop her.
“Da… Dani… ka.” Charles kicked his feet, his hands grasping at his neck for her invisible hand that was clutching his throat.
The team swarmed the area but was careful not to get too close. The Gale was strong enough to kill Charlie if they made the wrong move—but they wouldn’t back down as they pleaded and insisted for her to release him. After a few moments of considering everyone’s words and the consequences that came with killing him, she let Charlie down. Danika wasn’t thrilled with having to let go, so she dropped him on the ground with force.
He fell to his knees in a heap, choking for air.
“Danika, what the hell were you thinking?” Morgan asked, his bushy eyebrows pulled together at his renegade niece. He was infuriated with her behavior.
Callie ran by them both and knelt beside Charlie, carefully checking his neck for bruising. She placed her hand on his back as he recovered his breath, and when he was ready she offered to help him up. Callie made sure he was stable on his feet, saying nothing as she turned to escort him away from the scene. She turned and looked back at Danika, her big purple doe-eyes filled with disappointment and fear.
Danika didn’t even look at Morgan, she kept her eyes burning holes into Charlie, as he stood, just before they started to walk away. “Hey, lawyer. How about you do us all a solid and just cut the innocent act bullshit, huh? Just give us the truth?”
The tension grew thicker as Charlie stopped. Callie insisted they keep walking but he refused, and turned back. He was still having difficulty breathing, so he undid his tie to loosen up the constraint he felt on his neck. “Wh-What are y-you on abou-t?” His accent was thick as ever, his voice breathy.
“Oh, I’m not on anything, Charles.” She glared, gritting her teeth as she spoke. “It’s just that, while we’ve been trying to figure out how to take down King, you’ve been holding onto things like family secrets…”
“Excuse me?” Charlie, much like most everyone else in the room, was confused.
“D…” Somewhere behind her, Frost’s voice was heard, though it was low and foreboding. He knew what button she was going to press.
Danika looked over her shoulder at him, then to Callie, who shook her head. They both had regrets for bringing that file to Danika’s attention, but there was no taking it back now. She stomped over to Frost’s desk and tugged on the top drawer of the filing cabinet. She threw the files on the table, and the pictures spilled out in a streak of evidence against him. “Answer this one for me, Counselor. Is it true that our very own Councilman Alton King is your father?”
It was like a vacuum pulled in the air from the room. Other than a gasp in shock, no one said a word, or made any sound. Tension covered the room like a wool blanket, itchy and thick.
Charlie stood there, dumbfounded. His mouth fell open slightly and his already pale skin turned a brighter shade of white. He gulped, pulling his hand to his mouth where he left it there for a few seconds to collect his thoughts.
“Is it true that you are, in fact, his son and the heir to his estates?” she pressed. Danika noticed slight twitches in his face; his eyebrows switching from surprise to fear, a flick of the tongue on the lips, as if he wanted to speak but he couldn’t. She had rendered him speechless? Good. She stood there, hand on hips, as she fired the accusations. “Is it even true, that night at the Grand Regal, that you heard the shooter?”
His wide brown eyes met hers. He was mortified. “I told you, and everyone here, that I heard someone—I heard something, and I-I told you to get down. I tried to protect you—” Charlie was stammering, fumbling here and there, struggling to make his statement clear for everyone to hear the sincerity and truth in his disbelief at this turn.
“How about you tell the people who saved your life that teensy-weensy detail about your daddy dearest a little bit sooner than him trying to fucking kill me!” Danika was still irate, inching closer to her prey and she pressed harder. “I was shot, right through the chest, by someone in his ‘court’. You heard the call before the shot was made. Was it your super senses? Or were you on a different channel that night? Did you know that I was the target? Was it your job to get me on point?”
“Calm down, Danika,” Erik said, standing up from his seat. He went to stop her, and at least restrain her from doing something she’d regret, but Morgan held his hand up, the signal for him to stand down.
“Stay out of this, Red. You weren’t there.” Danika snapped, her sights still on Charlie. “You working for him, or what?”
He shook his head, his hands up in surrender. “Look, Dani, I swear, I—”
“Do not
call me that. You do not get to call me that.” She pointed, vindicated in relinquishing him of that privilege. Her nicknames were only allowed by her friends and family and right now, Charlie was neither of those things. A gust of wind picked up in the room, shifting loose papers as it rose. There was a fire behind Danika’s eyes that no one could miss, aimed right at Charlie. Her sweating palms were clenched and glowing again.
Frost put his hand on her shoulder, the ice-cold grip almost instantly calming her. When Danika tilted her head to glance at him, her enraged eyes calmed too. He shook his head.
“I swear, I didn’t know—” Charlie wiped his face with his hand, sounding like running over sandpaper on his stubble. “Even if I did, did you expect me to come around and tell you: “Hi! Nice to meet you, by the way, my father is behind all of this?”
“I was fucking shot!” Danika yelled, and another gust of wind came through. “A bullet that almost killed me, but look at me! I wasn’t fortunate enough for that shit yet, was I?”
Callie bristled at that remark.
It wasn’t lost on Morgan, either, as he furrowed his brow. It was a sensitive topic, Danika and death, considering what he’d known about her choices in the past. They went through some dark times after the Turning…after losing their family. His frown deepened. This did not sit well with him.
“I was there, and I-I heard it, yes, but I didn’t know where he was. I saw it happen—but I didn’t pull the trigger!” Charlie raised his voice in defense.
“Yep. Trigger was pulled by one of your dad’s cronies, but I’m in the wrong for being pissed?” Danika wasn’t moved by his performance.
“That wasn’t his fault,” Morgan chimed in.
“Morgan, you of all people should get why this pisses me the fuck off.” Danika’s chagrin was exacerbated by Morgan, her own family, choosing to defend Charlie.
“He had nothing to do with Franco,” Morgan replied.
“But he had everything to do with Carter.”
Another round of silence from the group. Everyone was surprised that she was the one to bring him up this time. Any other day she would have locked that topic away and thrown away the key—but right now it was relevant.
“Who read the file?” Danika asked everyone, but no one answered. “Huh? Maybe if Sloane was here he could tell you how it’s all connected… how it’s a bit of a coincidence we’re nearing the anniversary of Monroe—and this son of a bitch just gets a free pass into the Alliance? King’s own fucking spawn?!”
“I-I didn’t know any of this. You have to believe me.” Charlie had such kind eyes, but they were set to plea now. As much as that would make any other girl swoon, it just set her off.
“Believe you?” She laughed. “As far as I’m concerned, everything you’ve said has been a lie.” Compliments, genuine interest in getting to know her, thoughts about the home with the picket fence and the dog…all some sort of front, all a method to get information about his target. His enemy.
“Danika,” Morgan stepped forward, trying to stop her.
She huffed. It was clear whose side they were going to take in this argument. Charlie proved to be useful. Charlie proved to be a good guy. But since Danika was an unreliable resource, she was given the boot. Instead of being juvenile and spitting on the ground where he stood, she lit up a cigarette instead, blowing the smoke wherever she damn well pleased. “Fine. If you want to keep this guy on your five-year-old’s dream of a super freak team, I’m out.”
“D—” Frost started to protest, as expected.
“No. I’m OUT!”
Leaving them all behind, Danika stormed out of the control room with a burst of wind to trip anyone who wanted to follow her. Lucky for them, no one had the balls, or was stupid enough to follow.
*
It was late. After a painfully drab shift for the evening at DZ’s, Danika was back home. She sat at her dining table, staring at the file she’d set across from her. Once more, Danika wondered if anything Charles said up to this point was the truth. Lawyer jokes aside, she thought about how close they’d become, and shuddered at the thought of King’s blood that ran through his veins.
Bastard.
There was a knock at her door.
She wasn’t expecting anyone. In fact, she’d specifically requested to be left alone. Even Frost was banished for a bit, despite his efforts to text her and try to get her out of her high-rise fortress. She ignored it, but they knocked again. Exasperated, Danika scooted back on her chair and stood, ambling towards the door. When she looked through the peephole, she saw the face she’d been thinking about—a face she wanted to forget. Charlie was staring at the door, waiting, as if he was looking straight at her through the peephole.
He knocked again.
With a low grumble, Danika gave in and unlocked the deadbolt, and slowly turned the bottom lock. The door creaked open and she peeked through, propping her foot behind the bottom of it to prevent it from swinging open. Her eyes did the talking, and it was clear she was displeased to see him.
“Oh hey…I didn’t expect you to answer.”
“So why did you knock three times?” Danika glared, gripping tight to the edge of the door.
Charlie cleared his throat. “Right… uh… May I come in? I brought a gift.” He held up a fresh bottle of whiskey.
Danika peeked at either side of him, to make sure no one followed him into her building. It looked clear enough to let him pass, but only after she let her anger settle at the sight of him. She stepped aside and gestured to let him pass, keeping her eyes locked on him in case he decided to do a 180 and attack. Eyes up, they always told her. She had enough time to convince herself that doing this was the right thing, to let him state his case, maybe consider the concept of ‘innocence until proven guilty’, but the other part of her, thought of red flags and a big neon sign saying ‘idiot’ for welcoming him in.
When she moved back toward the table, she made sure to mentally track where her collapsible batons were at all times.
“Thank you,” he said softly, setting the bottle down on the table, taking the seat closest to her chair. “Look, I know you’re angry. You’ve every right to be. When this is over, you can kill me if you want.”
“Gee, thanks for the permission.” She muttered.
“I just came to tell you that I’m sorry and I want you to believe that I had no part in what happened at the Grand Regal. I didn’t know about him. King. I didn’t know any of that until you said it back at base.”
Danika’s eyes were fixed on his face as she listened to him. Eventually, she unfolded her arms and walked away. She’d gone to fetch a couple of glasses from the cabinet, and she returned to the table. She carefully examined the seal around the cap of the bottle. If it had been tampered with, she would have to make him drink it first, just to be sure.
“Seriously?” He sounded offended that she’d suspect anything of his offering.
“Yeah. Seriously,” she responded as she twisted the cap. She always loved the sound of a fresh bottle being opened, but she gave it a sniff, then gave him a suspicious glare.
Charlie nervously chuckled, pointing somewhere behind him. “Danika, I just bought it from the store down the street. Your place. You don’t think—”
“Yup.” Danika poured a small amount into both glasses and waited for him to drink first. He did so without hesitating, so she picked hers up and moved to stand at window. Once it was deemed safe, she took a sip, and stared out into the city.
“Morgan helped me remember…well, Callie did.” Charlie remained seated at the table, keeping his glass in hand. “What happened prior to the Turning, with my parents…”
“The resident oracle, of course. Of course, she did. Guess that fixes everything, right?” Danika rolled her eyes. After taking the last drink from her glass, she exchanged the empty tumbler for the bottle and took one long pull from it. Her face was hot, and her entire body ached, especially the area around her gunshot wound. The alcohol helped numb the li
ngering pain, at least.
“Right. Well,” Charlie shrugged, “Alton…my f-father… and his first wife, my mother, they gave me up for adoption before everything, before the Turning. I was raised by Tom and Jolene Matthews, lived with their family, with my brother Caleb, my sister Elise.” His lip quivered. “I-I was raised a Matthews. Not a King. After the Turning, I got these weird powers and I had no idea, I swear. I went to law school, I graduated top of my class, I went to my brother’s football games, my sister’s cello recitals.”
“Yeah, okay.” She shrugged, her face apathetic to the story. What does he expect? A hug? A fucking pat on the back?
“Believe me, Dani…Please.”
“I said…you can’t call me that anymore.”
Charlie sighed, defeated. He sensed quite a bit of distress, caused by him no doubt, and drank down the last of his liquor before setting down the glass. “What do you want from me?”
“No, what do you want from me? Huh?” She threw her hands up in desperation and faced him again. “Your timing? Too convenient. Too much of a coincidence and this whole King thing… you didn’t know about? What—like your shining personality is supposed to make that go away? Exonerate you? You’re shitting me.” Danika’s hands closed tightly, the white glow threatening to return. “You expect me to just believe you? No wonder you were so good at the hotel, schmoozing with the upper class, brownnosing like some sort of peasant to the King. Putting on a hell of a front as my darling fiancé. Please. It just came natural. You definitely have politician’s blood.”
“Not all of that was false,” he said, regret buried in his tone.
She scoffed, “Yeah, I know you were having the time of your life getting acquainted with clients and blending in with your lawyer friends. Hey, maybe you’ve been spending too much time with Olivia or maybe you would have made a better spy than you are a lawyer—”
