Scarred by Vengeance (Titanium Book 2) Read online

  Through and through.

  Her lips curl at the sight of him gasping to take his last breath and then, silence.

  * * *

  22.

  I wake up covered in sweat, my dreams a jumbled mess I can't really decipher.

  It's dark in the room and when I look at the clock, I see it's only two in the morning. I have no recollection of even falling asleep. At the same moment I become aware of my surroundings, I realize I'm not alone. Someone is sitting in the chair in the corner of the room, head tilted back against the wall. I move, just barely, and realize it's Logan.

  I must make some kind of a noise because he jerks awake, his eyes colliding with mine through the darkness. He looks...scared. That's the best word I have for him and that scaresme.

  "What are you doing here?" I whisper, afraid that I'll spook him away. For a moment, I think he won't answer me. But then, he stands up and walks over to sit on the bed. I pull my legs to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as I watch him come to some kind of a decision.

  "I brought you back after—" he stops, seemingly at loss for words. I watch as he takes a calming breath before looking me straight in the eyes. "Princess, do you remember what happened?"

  I open my mouth to say of course, but stop. I have memories of earlier, but not all of them. Pushing my mind as far back as it'll allow, I try to remember what happened.

  "No," I whisper, panic setting in.

  "Shh," Logan reaches over, placing his hand over my own.

  "Logan, what happened? I remember going to see Blake. I remember the car ride to some farm house and everything after that gets fuzzy." The words fly out of me in a rush as I try to wrap my mind around it. How can I not remember anything for the rest of the day?

  "Blood," I say suddenly. "I remember a lot of blood."

  Logan is nodding his head, as if I just agreed to something. He runs his fingers up my arm, taking my hand in both of his.

  "I think it's time for you to get out," he says, looking me straight in the eyes. "The drug is working on you and you need to escape before something else happens."

  "What did I do?" I ask horrified by all the scenarios running through my head. "Logan, tell me."

  "You—" He's reluctant to say it. Even in the shadows I can see the pain in his eyes. "You tortured a man, Tasia."

  Air rushes out of my lungs and the fog lifts for just a second. I remember my hand holding the knife. I remember myself laughing at the man's pain. Then, it all fades to black.

  "You're not telling me everything." I say, accusingly. "Logan, did I—did I kill him?"

  "Yes."

  Ripping my hand from his grasp, I bury my head in my arms. My chest feels closed off, heavy. There's something stopping all the air from entering my lungs.

  "Breathe. Tasia. Baby, breathe."

  I hear Logan's voice through my own sobs and that's when I realize I'm hyperventilating. I feel his arms wrap around my shoulders and I jerk back. Scrambling backwards, my back hits the wall as I'm trying to get away from him. "Don't touch me, Logan. I don't deserve comfort. I'm a murderer." My voice doesn't sound like my own voice. My body doesn't feel like my own body.

  "Don't say that," Logan snaps, watching me closely.

  "What do you want me to say?" I stare at him incredulously. "I may not have murdered those men at the garage, but I came close. I wanted to kill them and I wanted to kill the one at the house and I did. What does that make me?" I'm keeping my voice low, but even so it sounds like I'm shouting.

  "It makes you manipulated."

  "Logan—" I'm already shaking my head but he won't let it go. Scooting closer, he pulls me by my legs, until I'm trapped between the wall and his body.

  "You've seen what Kallos does. You've seen what the drug can do. That's in you. That's what's controlling you. I don't know how Foster can pull it out of you, but he did. He's mighty happy with himself right now because his experiment went well. But we won't let him win."

  I clasp my hand over his mouth, stopping whatever else he's going to say. For the first time, I realize that we're talking freely inside of Joy's house. There are camera's and listening devices all over this house.

  Logan pulls my hand from his mouth, kissing the palm ever so gently.

  "I took care of the cameras before I snuck in here," he says, before his lips continue their way down to my wrist and back up again. A small moan escapes me at the gentle touch and Logan's eyes light up in the darkness of the room. Suddenly, I'm aware of just how close we are and of the fact that I don't ever want to move.

  "You're not who they make you to be, Anastasia. Fight. Fight with all your might."

  I see the conviction shining in his eyes. He truly believes every word.

  But how am I supposed to look myself in the mirror knowing I took a man's life? And enjoyed it? No matter how much this is Kallos' fault, it's my own as well. I came back here. I thought I could be stronger than this.

  "You are stronger than this." I don't realize I’d spoken my thoughts out loud until Logan comments. "You came back to save Blake. Let's do that and get you out."

  Before it's too late.

  He doesn't add that, but I hear the words anyway. In my mind, it's already too late. I don't think I'll ever be able to come back from what I've done. Even though I don't remember it the way a normal person would.

  It hits me then that's what I was dreaming about. The woman who was enjoying her kill, that was me.

  I want to cry.

  And scream.

  And fight.

  The violence that's been my close companion for all of these years has been unleashed. Not only that, it's being controlled by the very man who's responsible for it in the first place. How twisted this all has become. I almost laugh out into the darkness. I have no idea where to go from here.

  Logan waits for me to come to whatever decision that's running through my mind, watching me patiently. I shake my head, tears falling silently down my cheeks. There's no decisionsto be made. No more plans I can come up with. Coming here was a mistake and I walked right into it.

  Logan watches me with concern and sympathy, the words of encouragement almost on his tongue as he opens his mouth, but I don't deserve any of them. Instead, I reach for his hand and tug him down beside me. Surprise flickers over his features, but he doesn't hesitate to lay down beside me.

  Maybe I'm just being selfish.

  Maybe there's no salvation for me in the end.

  But for tonight, I just want to be held by the one boy who has ever made me feel normal.

  He stretches out beside me and I move toward him, laying my head on his chest. His arms wind around my body, bringing me closer against him. I can feel his heartbeat at my fingertips, the steady rhythm of the life force that drives him. The one part of him that sees me not as the broken girl, but as the princess he keeps call me. It's that sound that finally calms me.

  I know he's right. I know I need to get out before something else happens. But I can't leave Blake. Not yet.

  My mind shuts down in sections, like turning off a light in a long hallway, and I stop thinking. I just focus on the beat of Logan's heart and touch of lips on my hair.

  Then, I sleep.

  * * *

  When morning comes, I'm no closer to solving the problem at hand. But at least I'm rested. Logan disappeared at some point before I woke up, but even so, I slept better than I would've without him there.

  After showering and changing into a dark grey T-shirt and jeans, I head for the kitchen. Joy is there, of course, but so are Paul and Lucas. Katie is once again nowhere to be seen. I really wonder about the relationship between Lucas and Katie and whether it's even real. It seems more real than what Paul and Joy have, that's for sure.

  "Get yourself some food," Joy says in the way of a greeting, pointing at the counter. "We have a long day ahead of us."

  Rolling my eyes in her direction, I pour myself a cup of coffee. Taking a sip, I turn around to watch the two men and Joy watchi
ng my every move. So I make a show of taking a long drink, making Lucas shake his head a little and try not to grin. Out of these three, he's definitely my favorite. Even though he steals children from their homes.

  Now that right there, says all there is to say about how messed up I've become.

  Pushing those thoughts away, I focus on what the others are talking about. Joy is pointing to something on her phone, completely ignoring me now.

  "Ahem." I clear my throat loudly when it's clear no one is going to tell me about these big plans for today. Joy glares at me with the intensity of a thousand bullets, while Lucas ducks his head hiding another smile. Paul just stares at me with a blank expression on his face. That one, he's good.

  "Sorry, I mean to interrupt." I think Lucas just snorted a little at my words because Paul looks over at him for a beat. "But what is this long day consisting of exactly? I have places to be, people to—"

  "You'll be given your assignment when you speak with John," Joy interrupts before I can take my obnoxious attitude to the next level. I'm not exactly sure what possesses this sudden turn around in my attitude, but I'm feeling downright wicked.

  Maybe it's because when I was in the shower I decided to royally piss off everyone I come in contact with today. Since it'll probably be my last day here. I can't stick around for much longer if I'm ever going to be able to get this drug out of my system. The timer on this ticking time bomb is definitely running out.

  And I have to admit, that making Joy see red is easily the best way to start my morning.

  So continuing with that thought, I chug half of my coffee before heading toward the front door.

  "Where are you going?" Joy yells, rushing to intercept me.

  "To see your beloved John," I smile sweetly in response. The tips of her ears are red, no kidding. She goes to open her mouth, but Lucas beats her too it.

  "I'll take her," he says and turns to walk out the door, without another word. I throw a big wave Joy's way and then scramble to catch up with Lucas. He's waiting for me in yet another golf cart.

  "I feel like I live in an old golfers’ community." I mutter under my breath, getting in beside him. He chuckles, backing up out of the driveway and turning toward Foster's residence.

  "You know you shouldn’t bait her like that," Lucas comments after twenty-seven seconds of silence. I turn to watch him out of the corner of my eye, wondering why he's being so friendly towards me.

  "I don't know what you mean," I reply, instead of asking all the questions I want to ask. Now that I'm out of that house my mind is once again somber. It's as if stepping through that front door took all the mischief out of me and now I'm back to who I was in that room. With Logan.

  Lucas doesn't comment on my lack of conversation and I'm grateful. It's only eight in the morning and I'm already tired from the ups and downs of the uncontrolled emotions running through me.

  When we pull up, I get out of the golf cart and walk up the stairs to Foster's house as if I've been doing so for ages. Lucas follows me up but instead of continuing on to the office, he steers right. I don't question him, but keep on walking. When I reach Foster's office, the doors are closed and there are two men standing guard in front of it.

  A sudden, uncontrollable need to punch something overcomes me. I grab the first guy, punching him right in the face. He stumbles from surprise as the other man springs into action. I round kick him into the wall, then smash my foot into the first man's groin. Now both of them are doubling over on the floor in front of me and I feel more grounded as well.

  Pulling the doors open, I step into the room. Foster jerks in his seat, his attention flying to whoever disturbed him. First, his eyes land on me, then on the men behind me on the floor. I shrug my shoulders and shut the door.

  "I see you're feeling better," Foster says, watching me make my way to the only unoccupied chair. There are two other men in the room that I've never seen before, but I don't care. I take my seat without saying a word. Suddenly, the doors behind us open and two men with guns rush in. Foster raises a hand and they freeze in their assault.

  "It's fine. See that they're replaced." The two men nod in affirmation, before walking back out of the room. Foster doesn't even spare me a glance as he goes back to his discussion with the other two men in the room.

  I try to listen, but I find that I have absolutely no interest in anything they're saying. However, my interest peaks when one of them uses the worddistribution. I continue to look around the room, hoping not to draw any attention to myself as Foster replies.

  "Everything is still on schedule. The party tonight will be the final public statement before the shipments go out. I expect you both to be there."

  The men agree and the meeting is over. They stand, neither one of them acknowledging me and walk out of the room.

  "A party?" I ask as soon as they shut the door behind them.

  "Yes. I feel like celebration is in order. Don't you agree?"

  I know he's referring to yesterday and I want to disagree, but a bigger part of me agrees. I can't shake the thought away no matter how hard I try. And I'm not trying hard enough. That makes me frown and I try to find my center, my focus, with no luck.

  Foster continues to watch me and whatever he sees in my face makes him smile that much more.

  What is going on with me?

  A minute later, Logan walks into the room. The moment my eyes land on him, I'm grounded. I look around, realizing that I'm just sitting in Foster's office like we're old friends and the thought makes me panic. I take a deep breath, trying to keep it from showing.

  "Logan. I assume you received an email with the event details?" Foster asks by the way of greeting. Logan spares me a glance, before concentrating on Foster.

  "Yes."

  "Good. Lucy and the others have been contacting the benefactors all morning. With the threat now looming over the distribution, a spontaneous event is the only way to go. We need the publics support and we need it immediately."

  "I understand." Logan replies. I didn't. What threat? Is he talking about the people who were trying to kill me? Maybe. I'm more confused now than I was an hour ago. And that's saying something.

  "You can take Miss Snow into the city with you. Make sure you get her something appropriate to wear. Keep your phone on." With that, we're dismissed, but I can't make my feet move.

  Logan reaches down and takes my hand, pulling me out of the chair. Foster doesn't comment on my lack of response, going back to his computer. I'm inside Logan's Buick before I finally speak.

  "They replaced your back window," I say stupidly, looking at it like I've never seen glass before.

  "It's a different car," Logan answers carefully. "The body damage and bullet holes on the other are too noticeable."

  "Oh okay."

  Neither one of us say anything else as he pulls out of the community. The only thought in my head is that we've been spending a lot of time driving around recently.

  23.

  I sleep the two hours to Chicago, surprising myself and Logan.

  He wakes me when we arrive at the office, and for a moment, I'm afraid we're going to park in the parking garage again. Instead, Logan pulls up to the back of the large skyscraper and parks in an overhead parking spot.

  "Are you okay?" He asks, as soon as we're out of the car. Trying to shake the heaviness from my limbs, I nod in response. "I wanted to talk to you, but you were out cold," he says and I vaguely remember him saying my name a few times.

  "Sorry. I must be a lot more spent than I realize." The lie comes easily enough and I hope he leaves it at that. Of course, it's Logan so that hope is futile.

  "What happened this morning, Tasia? Lucas mentioned you were acting...strange." The small pause before that word does not go unnoticed. I roll my shoulders, trying to disperse the tension building there.

  "I don't know what you mean."

  "You don't know what I mean?" Logan repeats, running his hand through his hair. "You were making Joy crazy on p
urpose. You were down right chipper. And yes, he actually used that word."

  "What do you want me to say, Logan?" I ask, exasperated. "I wanted to drive Joy insane and I did. Leave it at that."

  I walk toward the building, leaving him gaping at me from behind. I'm getting so sick and tired of getting questioned all that time. This is one of the reasons why I had to leave Calen and Freddie behind.I'm not some child who needs babysitting.

  As soon as the thoughts rush through my mind, I stop walking. I don't really sounds like me, even in my own head.

  Logan is beside me, peering down to look at me with concern. I shake my head in confusion, not really sure what I'm supposed to say here. I'm turning into a two year old with a tantrum inside my head. And outside of it.

  I glance up at Logan, panic settling in my features. But instead of offering empty promises, Logan does the one thing that calms me down. He takes my hand in his, giving me a small squeeze.

  I focus on the touch of his skin against mine, the electricity pulsing between us, pushing the conflicting thoughts away. Without saying a word, we walk into the building.

  We are greeted at the back elevators by Lucy. Her gaze zeros in on our clasped hands, but she doesn't comment. Instead, she smiles at us with practiced perfection before leading us inside the elevator. We head back up to the offices. This time Lucy guides us beyond her receptionist desk and into Foster's office. Lucy leaves us after telling Logan about some paperwork she left out for him on the desk. I settle into one of the chairs, exhausted.

  "Why are we here?" I ask as Logan as he walks over to the said desk and shuffles through the papers. He boots up the computer and sits down behind it, before answering me.

  "Because I have to make sure the security personnel are approved for tonight. I'm pulling up the schematics for the building now and then we'll go take a look."

  "Wow. Aren't we in charge of a lot of things?" I make it sound like a question, because he's in a lot higher position than I would've imagined him in. When we first met, I thought he said he was an intern.