Chapter Fourteen
Kinzer and Hayde returned to the warehouse where he and Maggie had squatted for several months. He’d stored their more precious supplies in a vent, to keep any looters from easily discovering them.
He retrieved the supplies and began preparing for his friends’ arrival.
He’d received a surprising call from Treycore, saying that he’d rescued Kid from Vera’s clutches. Kinzer was eager to see them again. They reminded him that maybe he had a reason to hope. After Vera had abducted Kid, Kinzer had felt he’d never see him again… the poor boy he’d dragged into all this. To hear he was okay was a relief. And to know that Treycore would help him track down Veylo was just as comforting. Maybe Treycore had a contact… someone who could get them closer to Maggie’s captors. At the least, his immortal strength would come in handy as they continued on their quest.
Kinzer and Hayde cleaned Maggie’s room.
Kinzer flapped her sheets out a nearby window, watching waves of dust descend to the yard below. As he turned back to her bed, he glanced around—the same room he had entered to talk with Maggie—about his past… about the immortal realms. They’d had a special friendship, one Kinzer greatly appreciated. He’d shared so many things with her, things he’d never shared with any mortal. He’d told her about his time with Janka and Dedrus. She’d consoled him during his grief, and in return, he had listened to her story, her history as a mortal whom society had given up on. They’d laughed together, played cards together, drank together, and trained together.
She had been taken from him so swiftly. It saddened him that she was gone. He hoped she was alright—that Veylo hadn’t done anything to her. And if he had… he’d fucking tear him apart. Of course, he was already planning on brutally punishing Veylo for all that he’d put him through.
Hayde piled a collection of blouses, jackets, and jeans in the corner. It reminded Kinzer of one morning when Maggie had dragged him to a thrift store because she was so tired of looking at his same worn outfits. She’d turned the trip into her own fashion show before purchasing many of the items Hayde now held.
It was too much for Kinzer to handle.
He set the sheet back on her bed and headed out the door.
He entered their little kitchen, reached into a cabinet, pulled out a bottle of whiskey, which he took several large gulps from. But even drinking Jack reminded him of drunken stupors when they’d stumble in together, smelling of Jack and gin, and lie in bed chatting until Maggie fell asleep on his chest.
“I’m sorry,” Hayde said.
Kinzer lowered the bottle and screwed the top back on.
“Sorry?” he asked, setting it back in the cabinet.
“For setting you guys up.”
Despite Hayde’s clear allegiance, it was still difficult for Kinzer to process, considering how his earliest memories of the flit were when he was trying to kill him.
Kinzer nodded, granting him silent pardon.
“If I’d known you… really known you… when I first saw you back at Kryler’s, I wouldn’t have done that. I just thought you were what Janka made you out to be.”
“Which was?”
“One of the Leader’s brainwashed drones.”
He imagined Janka referring to him as such, and it hurt even more.
Hayde approached him, setting his hands on Kinzer’s hips. “But I don’t see that anymore. I see so much more. I know I can’t make up for what I did to you, what I did to Maggie. But please know—”
“I do.” Hayde hadn’t really known them, so it was only logical he’d believed whatever lies Janka and Veylo had fed him. And in the same way Hayde had misjudged him, he had misjudged Hayde, for he had believed him to be just a cruel, sadistic asshole… like so many of his enemies.
Kinzer wrapped his arms around Hayde and offered a kiss, not the frenzied kiss like they’d had in the heat of passion, but a gentle, thoughtful kiss—a revealing kiss that Kinzer knew had conveyed the intense emotion he had for the flit. Even in that brief exchange, Kinzer could feel there was something there, something strong, something deep.
He’d felt something like this before. It made him feel vulnerable, weak. But how could he be feeling this for Hayde? With Dedrus, it had taken him so long to develop these feelings, but with Hayde, it had happened so quickly. He kept reminding himself how little he knew him, but it left him only wanting to know more.
Kinzer tightened his hold around Hayde and rested his nose against Hayde’s cheek.
They didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just held onto each other.
He wasn’t sure what they would do next, how they would continue on their quest, but he was pleased just knowing that he wasn’t alone in all this, as he’d been when he’d first woken after Veylo had clipped his wings and led him to believe Janka was dead.
He pulled from their embrace and gazed into the young flit’s eyes. They looked unguarded, vulnerable. This was the real Hayde. This was the part he tried to mask behind anger and spite. He glanced at Hayde’s scars—the ones that would forever taint his face—the scars he’d put there—the scars that somehow Hayde had found it in his heart to forgive him for. What little worry he’d had about Hayde’s allegiance dissipated. And with that, a powerful emotion stirred within him, one that he was finally willing to acknowledge was real.
A loud clang filled the air, breaking up their embrace. They turned to the door, which swung open.
