Physically and spiritually, he towered over me. I really got a pain in my neck whenever I glared up at him, though he’d just tip his eyebrows up slightly and you’d know he was asking if you were finished. Jack didn’t appreciate people talking back. He loathed arguments and all out hated the sass that always spilled from me. In his sardonic tone, he’d remind me I was pissed at the world, not him, so shut the fuck up.
No matter the situation, the time, the circumstance, he always had this look in his eyes, like he was catching everything going on in the world. Seriously, it was like he could see around boulders. I got away with nothing, he pulled me up on everything. And his hearing was damn near supersonic. Even if I bitched about him on the opposite side of the mountain, he’d hear me. And hold me accountable. But in his no bullshit attitude, he showed me how to fend for myself including amongst other things, ten different ways to kill someone without making a noise. He taught me how to live off nothing, and how to thrive in those situations too. And right now, his broken voice is a constant source of motivation in my ear,‘head down, ass up, and listen. See everything, trust no one, and rely on you and your smarts.’
Someone has been watching us, and if they’re slick enough to get past Gabe’s surveillance and firewalls along with getting under his brother’s eagle eyes, it means the people coming to abduct me are better than us. Well, they think they are. Getting one up or getting the first hit in, is nothing in the grand scheme of things. But giving in and running back to help save Valak and Lincoln would be a bad move for all of us. Doing any of that would make a mockery of everything Jack taught me.
I block out all the noise and focus. Jack’s motto of you don’t give up until you’re dead is the reminder I need, and I get ready to win my next run in with these people.
And that makes hard decisions easy. Being back in the mindset Jack instilled removes the obstacles holding me back. The guilt I carry for running off is a waste of energy, so it’s the first thing to go. The grief I feel will keep me motivated.
I want to believe that Gabe is not being held for questioning, but that’s foolish. Splitting us up was part of their plan from the get go. I suspect the switch of Val and Gabe will be a small win for us, since they’re probably still not aware of which twin they have. And taking Lincoln, a well-known celebrity is also a boon, a sad one, but still, something that we can use to our benefit when the time arises.
The critical thing I need to do is stay offline. Not offline like the recent version I did on a luxury island. This time I have to become a nobody in the real world and it really is easy; add a backpack, a pair of ripped skinny jeans, and a ring of black eyeliner and the only thing people see is what they want to see. And then I change my chemistry; the suppressants I swallow every four hours, plus the gallons of scent blocking lotion that burns my skin has me dropping hard and fast into the sullen, sulky persona of an angry beta runaway.
My end destination is Pack Bailey, which is ironic considering not that long ago I was adamant about not bringing danger to their door. Jack’s lesson about letting other people help was brutal, and while I understand the ethos of trusting people to look after themselves in the face of danger, it feels wrong.
The first day passes excruciatingly slowly; it’s full of miles of switchbacks to make sure I’m not being followed, and bad coffee. Sadly, it also includes numerous stops for me to hurl because of the medication. After sleeping it rough under the stars in a nearby national park, and nearly being eaten alive by bugs, I hit the jackpot when I walk into the ladies’ restrooms at a truck stop.
Bee is a beta through and through. She smokes like a train and smells like the only thing she consumes is energy drinks. And lying to Bee about being dumped by my boyfriend rolls off my tongue, much like the next six hours of life lessons roll off hers.
We part ways at another truck stop, and she leaves me with a bus ticket and a plastic bag full of food. And a reminder there are helpful people in the world.
Sitting in the Greyhound Bus terminal sipping on a lemonade slushy, I wait it out to see if I can keep food down this time, but I also use the time to check to see who gets on the bus. I guess luck is on my side again, and the decision to climb on board happens when I overhear a group of people talking about a Cosplay convention in Darlington.
Curled up in a ball, my head on my bag, I watch another day disappear. And while they all talk about battle axes, line ups and signings, I drift off until one of them shakes me awake, my nightmare interrupting their excitement.
I don’t know how I don’t get kicked off the bus, but the Cosplayers all jump into action and create a diversion while the woman who woke me up removes the knife from my jammed fist and covers me with a blanket. She sits on the edge of my seat and pats my leg until I pretend to fall asleep. And then for the rest of the excruciating long trip, I get compassionate smiles, food parcels deposited on top of my blanket, and a magazine to read. And another much-needed boost to my view on humanity.
A small television putters to life when we finally arrive back in range as we come out of the mountains. I’m relieved there’s nothing in the news but the cost of living going up. I stare at the screen for hours and hours, my head numb, my eyes dry despite the heavy heart I have.
I hate feeling this way; sadness is an infection spreading through my veins and contaminating everything. Without question, I have to lock that shit down and face the interrogation from Henley Bailey with a confidence that leaves him questioning himself and not me. There’s a part of me that’s scared though, but I’m not quite sure of the fear—if it’s for what’s to come, or what I’ve been through. Jack would kick my ass if he saw me now.
Needing more time to sort my head out and delay the inevitable, I hug it out with my Cosplay Berserker Queen and get off the bus at the first stop in Darlington. Some people would say I was being careless or reckless given the circumstance, but I don’t answer to them.
Hiding under the trucker cap Bee insisted belonged on my head, I put one foot in front of the other and start to plan out what I’m going to say to Pack Bailey. I’m not so far in my head I don’t notice my surroundings; I see and hear everything. The night isn’t busy, so that makes it easier to remain on alert. The misting rain that accompanies me is the reason the streets are quieter than usual. It starts to fall harder and harder the further I walk. I like being in the weather, it’s a reminder I’m alive. Besides, the rain washes my stale scent away.
But the rain does nothing to stop the shocking, beautifully sweet-smelling reminder I’m not alone. It’s like a blinding fog sweeps through the night. The cloud of scent is so dense and thick it has me turning around, searching for them.
28
LENNON
“They killed Ares.” Is all I manage to get out before my feet get swept up.
My carefully constructed dam breaks, and I burst into tears. The steady silent stream of them ruins Noah’s expensive shirt even before his arms are all the way around me. He keeps perfuming, rubbing his peppery scent over every part of me he can reach as we walk towards a car.
“Len, baby,” Gabe says with his other hand pulling my face up so he can see in my eyes, and god damn his eyes are full of so many things, sweet rage, revenge, and need. “I promise I’m keeping a tally of every tear that rolls down your beautiful face.”
Even when we sit in a car, both of them hold me tight. Noah talks in my ear, his bluntness despite the crazy maelstrom only confirms that it’s him and helps settle my frayed nerves even more. “Henley is driving us back to their home. No contact yet from Lincoln or Valak, but you recording what happened… we’re going to nail those fuckers.”
“No Bailey,” I whisper out.
“Just us, Len,” Gabe says again, pulling my face up so I can’t avoid him. And I see he’s got bruises and cuts marking him up.
“Are you hurt, sweetheart?” Noah asks, his arms not letting me go.
“No. Tired.”
And then for a few extra minutes, I slump against them before I sit up just in time to see where we’re going. Henley stays focused to the front, his eyes not moving to check on me, which is weird, and then I see the reason. When Gabe isn’t looking deep into my soul, he’s looking at Henley like he’s ready to eviscerate the man.
