When I drive through the gates of the fortress, I can see that it’s a fucking mess. Bomb blasts cover the grounds around the primary buildings, burning random spots of the fields into an unrecognizable crisp. The buildings also have plenty of scorch marks on and around them, and there’s a hole in the side of the training center… but our main building, HQ, is largely undamaged. It was built to withstand most low-level bomb blasts and even has a bunker underground that protects from nuclear warfare. It’s also equipped with embedded defenses that scramble any foreign target systems, making it extremely difficult to hit.
“This is a fucking nightmare,” Cain mutters, shaking his head. “Absolutemess.”
“Why don’t we have air defenses?” I demand, parking in front of headquarters. I’m too impatient to take the car to the garage. “Why weren’t we ready for something like this?”
“Air defenses have been down for maintenance since the beginning of the fucking regime change,” Cain responds tightly.
I don’t take the time to interrogate him further; all of my energy is focused on getting to Scarlett, making sure that she’s alright. If I spend another minute wondering how badly she was hurt, if she’s evenalive,I’ll snap and kill the nearest person to me.
Max jogs outside of HQ just as I get out of the car, and we meet halfway to the entrance.
“Is Scarlett okay?” I demand, at the same time that Cain snaps, “Casualties?”
Max looks between the two of us. “Three injuries, no casualties. Red team was running drills out in the open when a black jet started dropping fucking bombs on us—two of their people got burned up a bit. I was escorting Scarlett back from the greenhouse when the jet spotted us—we were at ground zero of a bomb.” Panic bubbles up in my chest, and it suddenly feels like there’s a foreign body settled deep in my soul, clawing around and screaming out for Scarlett, to ensure she’s safe.
I grip Max’s collar. “How bad?”
“Second-degree burn on her left arm and a mild concussion,” he says. “That’s it. That’s all. We were extremely close to the blast, so I think she blacked out from shock, but she’s fine now. Awake, shaken, but fine.”
“You take care of Scarlett,” Cain says, jerking his chin at me. “I’ll check on the others. Both of you, in my office tonight—11pm. I’d like to know who thefuckattacked us, how they knew where we’re located, and why the hell we didn’t get a goddamn heads up.”
I barely hear Cain’s words—all I canthinkabout is my little Flower, sitting alone in the medical wing. Frightened, confused, without anyone there with her. Or, worse, with someone unfamiliar there with her.
I jog to the entrance. Max keeps pace beside me, wiping at a black smudge on his cheek. “Who’s on her right now?” I demand.
“Toby…” he trails off.
I glare at him. “And?”
He clears his throat. “The cat.”
That fucking cat.As soon as I have the thought, though, it’s wiped away. If having Lucifer near Scarlett right now is enough to give her peace of mind, I’m fine with it. I took him away for a week; I was going to give him back soon enough, anyways.
It only takes a minute to get to the second floor. Max takes point, leading me down several winding halls until we come upon a room with a wide-open door. Scarlett’s sitting on a hospital bed in the center, a shitty blanket drawn over her legs. Her left arm is covered in white bandages, and on her lap is the furry menace she adopted. Toby sits in a chair by her bed, eyes glued to his computer screen.
I rush inside, making a beeline for the bed. Instantly, Lucifer crouches and his ears pin back, fur standing on end as he releases a deafening yowl. Scarlett winces at the noise, turns to look me over briefly, then scoops the cat up in her arms and cradles him to her chest as if he’s a baby rather than the physical embodiment of a demon.
“What happened?” I ask Scarlett, reaching forward to cup her cheek. The cat hisses and swipes out a paw at me, but Scarlett jerks him away and gently admonishes him. He settles down, though I can still feel his glare boring a hole in the side of my face.
What is that fucker’s problem with me?
“A bomb dropped from a plane and nearly killed me and Max.” Her gaze darts over to the man in question, who’s standing in the doorway, and she quickly averts her eyes. “Before it could drop another, a helicopter came out of nowhere and shot it down. It’s still lying in a crumpled heap on the farming fields outside of the greenhouse.”
“Scarlett was singed when the bomb detonated,” Max expands. “It’s a second-degree burn. It’ll scar, but she’ll be fine.”
I turn to look at Max with a frown. I don’t like the softness in his voice when he’s speaking about Scarlett, or speakingtoher. I trust him with her, but I can sense he has a soft spot for her… and I don’t like it.
“Are you okay?” I ask Scarlett, ghosting my fingers over the bandage on her arm.
She nods. “The doctor gave me an injection that’s making me feel a little bit high. I don’t like that so much, but the pain’s gone, which is nice.”
I don’t think I mind her being drugged up, considering she’s looking me in the eye and speaking in full sentences. Now, if only I could get her to do so while she’s sober…
“Where’s the doctor?”
“With the others. Jenkins got a pretty severe third-degree burn on his back, so Ross is looking after him. He told me to pass on that Scarlett needs as much sleep as possible and foods that are easy on the stomach. She’s got a grade-one concussion, so she’ll have a bad headache and some dizziness for a few days, but she’ll be fine. And she’s good to go to sleep—MRI showed she’s in the clear.”
Despite Max’s assurances, I angle Scarlett’s chin to get a good look at her pupils. They’re evenly dilated and she seems capable of focusing, so hopefully she’ll be good after a nice, long nap.
