Maverick’s mouth tugs up at one end in something that could be mistaken for a smile. “How’s your ankle?”
“Good as new,” I lie, hoping he didn’t notice my wince when I stood.
He looks unconvinced but turns on his heel and starts walking away anyway, his trusty companion right on his heels. He weaves around our legs, sniffing the ground for the countless smells I’m sure the island has to offer.
“Bye, city girl!” Bec calls after me, and I wave at her as I follow after Maverick.
Bec’s is the second story I’ve heard now that paints the Brotherhood in a horrifying light. Their histories contradict everything I thought I knew, which only adds to my confliction. But both her and Liv seem to be happy here, despite the awful things they’ve lived through. I think back to what Maverick told me yesterday.You represent everything they’ve fought to escape.
While the things I’ve seen and heard here over the last couple days have altered my perspective of reality, I still feel a tug deep in my gut pulling me back to Gabriel.
I’m so lost in thought I don’t realize Maverick has stopped, and I run straight into his back with anoomph.He turns around and quirks an eyebrow, but I wave him off. “Sorry.”
He mumbles something about Bec being onto something in calling mecity girlbefore pushing through the canvas of the tent and holding the flap open for me. I duck under his arm and step inside, noting how his smell is becoming familiar to me. Citrus and pine and soap, and while I shouldn’t want anything to do with him, I find myself leaning in to inhale his scent more.
I force my focus to turn toward the interior of the tent, noticing it’s rather dark in here. None of the window flaps are open, and the hum of machines is evident in the small, warm space.
“Morning, Benji.”
A man with messy blonde hair and circular glasses looks up from his laptop to greet us. “Morning, boss. Mrs. Sinclair.”
I give him a small wave. “Hello.”
The man pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger before turning back to his computer. “Boss says we’re trying to find your family.”
I nod. “If you can. Please,” I add, the knot in my stomach worsening.
“What’s your mother’s name?” Benji asks.
“Elizabeth Clark.”
Benji types away on his computer for a moment. “I’m not finding anyone by that name. Is Clark her married name or her maiden name?”
My heart sinks. “Clark was my dad’s last name.”
“Do you remember her maiden name?” he asks, still clicking around.
I bring my thumb to my mouth, biting the nail there. I close my eyes, wracking my brain. I know I heard it at some point growing up.
I feel Maverick step closer to me. He leans down, his smell infiltrating my senses and making it difficult to think. “Take your time. Anything you can remember about her could be helpful.” He speaks low, his deep voice rumbling close to my ear.
I take a deep breath, searching my early memories. After a few minutes, I sigh. “I can’t remember.”
“That’s alright,” Benji says. “Let’s try your brother. They may be connected in the system.”
“His name’s Liam. He was only a baby when I last saw him.” The skin around my nail tears too far, and I wince as it starts to bleed. I suck the blood off then apply pressure to the open sore, hoping no one notices my bad habit.
More typing ensues. “Is this him?” A photo of a young teenage boy pops up on the screen, and I immediately know it’s my brother.
I cover my mouth with my hand, overwhelmed by emotion. He’s got the same brown eyes as me but his hair’s lighter, croppedshort in the Brotherhood’s typical style. The resemblance to our mother is undeniable. “Yes.” A relieved laugh spills out of me.
“Okay, let’s see.” Benji digs deeper before pointing to some information on the screen.
Name: William Jameson (born William Clark toThomas ClarkandElizabeth Harris)
Age: Thirteen
Parents:Lord Ryan Jameson,Sister Ryan Jameson
