If Damon is as much like his father as he seems, then that’s an honest recommendation.
Damon, for his part, seems willing to let this all play out, for Malik to come to a decision on his own, no further sales pitch required.
Malik pointedly turns his attention away from me and diverts it to Damon instead. “Yeah. Alright then, my valiant hero, take me to your fucking leader.”
Damon nods in easy acceptance. “Where’s Jack Roth?” he asks.
Malik’s mouth twists unpleasantly. “You’re too late, agent. They moved him out hours ago.”
I don’t bother to hide my relief at that fact.
Damon, in contrast, seems absurdly disappointed, but we don’t have time to waste on it.
The three of us leave the cell and burst out into the hallway, where we find Aaron engaged in a fight with two OI guards. There are at least three more laid out on the floor, combatants he must have dispatched previously.
I rush forward to assist by taking out one of the remaining OI guards, freeing Aaron up to deal with the last combatant quickly.
Aaron’s gaze travels over all of us, narrowing in slightly on Malik, asking a silent question.
“He’s coming with us,” I say. “Roth’s gone.”
Aaron’s eyes snap back to me, and that too-knowing look returns to his face as if he understands things he can’t possibly understand, specifically about me. I ignore the painful fizz in my gut that comes from having Aaron’s full attention and pretend I’m not escaping when I run off down the corridor, the others following close behind me.
Present
Leo
Knocked out cold by the explosion of the OI’s control drug machine, the explosion that I caused, I’m told what happened afterward by Damon, who is thankfully alive and sitting in the plane seat across from me when I finally open my eyes.
I was far from the worst hurt during the storm on OI’s hijacked castle. Everyone took at least one graze from a bullet in the standoff with the OI guards, but mercifully, none of the shots were lethal. All the guards still alive fled once the machine was destroyed.
With our enemies either dead or scattering, there was nothing else to do but get back to the plane and go home.
Priority was given to the injured people who don’t have super healing. Damon said he floated the idea of stopping off at the nearest hospital, but his suggestion was brutally shut down byRex, who apparently took offense at the idea that he would need help stitching up a load of idiot agents since that’s what his job is mostly comprised of.
But even with Rex’s not-so-tender care, we all look like bloody shit. If I couldn’t see Jack’s chest rising and falling in the seat next to me, I would’ve thought he was dead at first glance. He must have hit his head harder than me because it’s taking him longer to wake up. Rex did him the mercy of digging the bullets out of his thighs while he was unconscious, so at least he’s been able to heal while he is out.
Jack’s eyes fly open, fever bright with confusion and fear, and he jerks violently in his seat like he’s been electrocuted. I can tell he has no idea where he is for a handful of seconds.
“Leo!” he shouts through a scratchy throat.
I grab Jack’s arm to draw his attention, and when he realises I’m here, safe and whole, his terrible panic almost immediately subsides. He reaches for me without hesitation, grasping my arm in return so we’re holding onto each other tightly.
Jack is covered in blood and dirt and ash from the fiery explosion. There are burns on his neck and face that are still on their way to healing. He looks awful and exhausted, damaged from all the pain I’ve caused him, but he’s alive, and I’m so fucking grateful for it I could cry. Actually, give it a second, and I might choke up from the relief.
I grip the back of his neck with my free hand and tug him in closer, pressing our heads together. For a long time, we stay like that, basking in the consuming euphoria of the moment. After everything, and despite the odds, we survived, and we’re here, him and me, Jack and Leo, alive and free, which is something I don’t think either of us let ourselves truly believe would happen.
“You shot me,” Jack says, drawing back a little so we can look at each other properly. He scowls at me like a pissed-off cat. “Twice.”
“You almost shot me in the face,” I point out, smiling too wide at my furious boyfriend even though none of this is actually funny.
Jack scoffs contemptuously. “Almost doesn’t count.”
“I owed you one for shooting me a few days ago,” I say, shrugging because I know it’ll annoy him.
Jack does look annoyed, much to my not-so-private satisfaction. “You. Shot. Me.Twice!”
“I can’t believe you’re still holding onto that,” I say, pretending to be exasperated. “Get over it. Turn the page. The world’s moved on.”
