If he was capable of it, my father would be giving me the double eyebrows of scepticism, I can feel it.
"You've been freelancing. On your own. For years." There’s stark disbelief in his voice.
Well, I didn't think he'd believe it that easily. He wouldn't be the man I know if he did.
"Think what you like." I shrug as much as my bindings allow. "I wanted out. I got out. Did my own thing. What were you expecting me to say?" I scoff, laying it on thick. "That I've secretly been building my own supervillain empire? That I secretlyama supervillain, waiting to make my big reveal and kill a couple supers as my opening act?"
If I were a supervillain, I'd certainly do a better job of ridding the world of all the superheroes running around, I'll tell you that. How hard is it to hire a handful of snipers? Just place them strategically throughout Danger City and let the suited-up heroes catch bullets whilst they're out on patrol. Supervillains like to complicate shit, and that's why they fail all the time. It's pathetic. I get exasperated just hearing about their escapades, so the supers must be twice as done with it by now.
My father completely dismisses my goading and sighs, taking another few steps forward and reaching out to grab my chin. I resist the very real urge to turn my head and bite a chunk out of his hand. It wouldn't be the first time I did something like that. Our relationship could be told in the scars we've given each other.
"You ready to get out of here?" my father asks, turning my head from side to side, his grip on my chin bruisingly strong. "Or do you want me to leave you alone in here, strapped to this chair, until you piss yourself again and make even more of a mess than you already have?"
If shame were a thing I fucked with, I'd probably feel it now.
It's true that I've had to empty my bladder more than once since I was put in this chair. It was either that or let the damn thing burst. I assumed it was part of my torture, the humiliation and degradation of it all. Load of shit, that is.
People often think taking away someone's choices and forcing them to degrade themselves is a power move on their part, when in reality, all they've done is give that person theexcuseof having no choice. True power comes from getting someone to destroy what they care about of their own volition, to not only hang themselves but also create the noose they'll use to do it.
But then as Director Snow once told me, the concept of choice is subjective.
"Depends," I respond demurely, gazing up at the impenetrable force that is Ian Stone. "Will I be going somewhere fun?"
His answering smile sends a litany of shivers racing down my spine. "We've been working on something big around here lately, and since you're back, I thought you'd like to offer your input,” he drawls. "If you're so determined to behave like a child, you might as well think of it as going on a playdate."
My father seems inordinately pleased with himself, which is always a concern.
I narrow my eyes slightly. "A playdate, huh? Who with this time? Not another one of your stick pokers." I dart a glance at the dead man on the floor. "We don't want to get a reputation for dining and dashing our hired torturers."
My father leans in closer to me for a handful of seconds, studying my face like he's trying to see all the secrets carved into the other side of it. After a few moments, he moves back and lets go of me entirely.
"It's another successful experiment," he answers with unsettling congeniality. "One that's proven more useful to me than you have in recent years." Then, like he knows I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, he adds with a wicked glint in his eyes, "Your brother."
Chapter one
Jack
"Thisiswhathappenswhen you don't wait for backup!" I bark at Leo, making zero attempts to hide my frustration.
"Really?" Leo asks, tone wry and unconcerned despite the hive of armed Obsidian Inc. agents that have swarmed around us like they're performing an interpretive theatre piece about wasps. "I thought this is what happens when you break into places and go around touching things and shooting at people."
Leo turns his head slightly, and I catch a maniacal grin spreading across a face currently speckled and smeared with the blood of dead or dying Obsidian Inc. agents. He has this frenzied look in his eyes, too, like ocean water storming beneath ice. His hair is a tangled, sweaty car crash. There's blood on histeeth. The whole thing is diabolically sexy.
In the last month, as we've been working together, travelling the globe to storm every Obsidian Inc. facility I know the existence of, I've learnt a few things about my partner. One of the most staggering is his apparent fearlessness in the face of impossible odds when out on a mission. It didn't surprise me to learn this about Leo. He showed a similar lack of respect and care for his own life when we met. His behaviour since then has only reinforced my belief that the biggest threat to Leo Snow's personal safety is himself.
Leo becomes particularly bullheaded in his recklessness when he's trying to save people. That's what all this has been about: attacking OI bases and facilities in a desperate attempt to find Rohan Sathe and regain custody of him.
So far, we've failed to get even a glimpse of the stolen genius, and Leo has been running himself ragged doing everything possible to track the bastard down. He seems to feel some kind of responsibility for Rohan although I have no clue why. He's not even friends with the man. But whatever the reason, he's like a horse with a bit between his teeth, and he won't be dissuaded from risking his life on a near-constant basis.
He refused to wait for FISA to send more field agents to help us storm the facility tonight, going in on his own with only a tranquilliser gun and his sense of valour for protection.
You know who doesn't give a shit about the knight’s honour code? That's right, OI agents withrealguns.
Leo, showing zero signs of commitment to his continued survival on this fucking earthly plain, elbows my side and nods at the three massive windows to our left. Just as the OI agents are raising their guns to open fire at us, Leo drops to the floor, and I use my Liquid-Onyx-given superpower to shatter each of those three windows, blowing the glass inwards like a tornado-level gust of wind hit them.
The shards of glass fly through the air and hit the cluster of OI agents in a blast of tiny projectiles. Glass cuts into the OI agents, slicing at their skin, causing them to throw up their arms in front of their faces in belated protection and aim their guns away from us.
Leo and I take the opportunity to escape. I grab hold of Leo and pull him roughly to his feet, proceeding to yank him along with me to the now-glassless windows. Leo doesn't hesitate to jump through the empty gap, heedless of the three-storey fall. I grab Leo in mid-air and wrap him up in a bridal carry, landing on the tarmac below with him in my arms.
