Scarred by Vengeance (Titanium Book 2) Page 9

  I'm trying not to rush things with Joy. I called her three days ago and she was "just so excited" to hear from me. She's called me four times since. I'm sure Foster told her to keep me close, but I don't mind. I just have to make sure not to jump the gun when it comes to getting in. If I seem too eager, they'll suspect something. I mean, they're suspicious anyway, they know my face after all, but I still have to play my cards right.

  Sitting in one place for any length of time is definitely not my idea of fun. But tomorrow is the day.

  Tomorrow I go back to the community.

  Tomorrow I charm Joy into letting me meet with Foster.

  Tomorrow I start pretending.

  My phone rings before I can make my way across the room.

  "Hey, Hummingbird." Uncle Freddie greets me when I answer. "You doing okay?"

  This seems to be the standard question for him these days. I know he's worried about me, but in all honesty, I should be asking him that. He doesn't sound so good.

  "I'm okay, Uncle Freddie."

  "Okay." I swear, we use that word way too much lately. "I got your blood work back, there is still residual presence of that drug in your system. Except—"

  "Except what?"

  "Except it's a higher dosage than when Calen tested you a week ago."

  I must not have heard him correctly.

  "What?"

  "It's .0003 higher than last time."

  "How do you explain that?" I'm not exactly sure how to wrap my mind around this. I haven't been exposed to anything. I made sure not to eat or drink anything at the barbecue.

  "The only thing I can think of is that it might be congregating in your system, as a way to flush it out." Uncle Freddie breaks through my thoughts. "Well, it's the only thing Calen and I can think of."

  "How's he doing?" I ask.

  "He's been better."

  The understatement of the century, I’m sure. I can't imagine how he's feeling right now. Okay, yes I can. But I've learned that people deal with the same situations in different ways, so really I can't expect someone to react to this one like I would. Not that I react to anything like a "normal" person would.

  "I'm meeting with her tomorrow, Uncle. Then, I'm not sure when I'll talk to you again."

  "We understand." And I know that they do. They might not like it, but they understand it. "Take care of yourself."

  "I love you. Both." I say, surprising myself. I don't utter those words very often, and they taste final, much like a goodbye would. It takes Uncle Freddie a moment to recover, before he replies.

  "We love you too."

  And then there's nothing left to say. I hang up, shutting that part of my life away. If I'm to survive this game I'm playing, I'll need to remember to keep myself in check. I can't allow unnecessary emotions to cloud my judgement.... Again... I can't let humanity ruin my chance of success... Again...

  I wish it was tomorrow already. With nothing to occupy my time, I'm growing beyond restless. It's not like I can go on one of my recon missions, or blow up another warehouse. I'm supposed to be on Foster's side. Destroying another of his facilities won't help me sell my story.

  Instead of doing what I want, I turn the TV on. It's been too long since I've sat down and watched anything. Exactly one year and two months ago actually.

  I was with Blake and Calen at their house in London and we were having one of our "Back in Time" nights. We'd pick a decade of movies and watch a bunch in one day. That night we had the eighties era and watched all the classics, mostly the John Hughes movies. Calen and I didn't even complain about the onslaught of the girly movies. It was the first time I'd seen them since they went back to school, and I was just glad to be able to spend some time with them.

  Blinking back the nostalgia, I focus on the TV in front of me. I can't keep going back to the times when I felt fully human. I can't keep remembering things that will make me weak. Tomorrow I throw away any kind of inhibitions I may have and finally do something about the life that I've been given. Whatever it takes. That's my motto.

  My eyes glaze over as I watch some type of a cooking show, not really focusing on one thing or the other. I drift away into dreamland without making a conscious decision to sleep. A noise outside of my hotel door wakes me from my slumber.

  Landing softly on my feet on the other side of the bed, I watch the front door from my position. The similar circumstances flash in my mind, but I doubt it's Calen coming to see me now. I used the hotel's phone to speak with Joy, so that if I needed to be put under surveillance, they'd know where to find me. However, I wasn't expecting someone to be blatant enough to actually walk inside my room.

  The knob turns, but the door doesn't open. Instead, I hear a knock. A lot of thoughts run through my mind, mostly how much I wish I had a camera set up on the outside so I would know what to expect. But even so, I know I need to open the door and see who's on the other side.

  Trying to stay away from the line of fire, I make my way to the door. Looking through a peephole is the dumbest thing I can do, so instead I do something even dumber. I pull the door open all the way, facing it head on.

  The person on the other side of the door doesn't even blink.

  * * *

  It's not as if I'm surprised to see him.

  I think a part of me has been waiting for this moment. Which is why I don't even think about the gun at my back before it's in my hands and pointing straight at his head. If I shoot him again, I won't be nice about it, this time he won’t survive.

  "Hello to you too, Princess," he says, eyebrows raised, as he steps inside the room.

  I try not to react to the way his voice makes me feel, but the goosebumps traveling over my skin are visible. I can't hide the fact that he effects me and I hate it. My face is definitely flushed, my heart racing, attempting to beat right out of my chest. Logan and his magnetism break through whatever defenses I put up. He did it so easily before. I mean, I trusted him before I even realized I did. But that's not happening again.

  He lets me study him in silence.

  His smug smile.

  His bruised skin.

  His sad eyes.

  No, there's nothing sad in that look. I blink and it's gone. I have no pity for this man, nothing but hatred. I watch as he closes the door behind him, taking a few steps farther into the room.

  "What do you want?" I ask when I think I can handle speaking without growling at him. I don't ask him how he found me. I left enough breadcrumbs in my wake to allow anyone to find me. That was part of the plan, after all.

  Logan cocks his head to the side, doing a study of his own. He seems to be oblivious to the gun still pointed at his head, which seems ridiculous. It's not like I won't pull the trigger.

  "You look good. I especially missed that scowl of yours." He grins then, and I swear if he doesn't stop, he'll end up right back in the hospital. I really don't even know what to say to him. Except maybe how much better punching him in the face will make me feel right about now.

  "Say what you came to say and then be gone." I grind out between my teeth, feeling the emotions rage a war within me.

  "I'm sorry."

  I knew he would say the words, but I didn't know the mixture of confusion and hope I would feel at hearing them. It's like a part of me was hoping for them, while the other just wants to bleed anything in my way.

  "Keep your lies to yourself, Mr. Wentworth."

  "You don't make things easy, do you?” He asks as I stare at him incredulously. With those words, he breaks all kinds of dams.

  "I'msorry, Logan. Which part of this am I supposed to make easy?"

  He opens his mouth to reply, but I'm not finished.

  "The part where you betrayed me? Or the part where you almost got me killed? Or the part where you helped them kidnap Blake? Should I go on? Saying sorry doesn't earn you forgiveness."

  My words strike him like a visible punch, but I'm not backing down. My hand is steady, so is my gaze. He stares at me and this time I know I read
sadness in his eyes. He takes a deep breath before speaking again.

  "That's not why I'm here." Logan shifts on his feet, his eyes trained on the gun I'm holding.

  "Well, enlighten me before my patience runs out and I have to shoot you... Again."

  Honestly, I think we're both surprised I haven't shot him already. He moves his gaze to hold my own, as if making sure I'm paying attention to whatever he has to say next.

  "You can't go through with your plan." Out of all the things I thought he'd say, this wasn't one of them. I expected begging, for some reason. But then again, I don't think Logan is a person who begs. I may have expected some warnings, but not a direct hit.

  "Don't look so surprised. You always have a plan. Usually, it's going off half cocked to beat someone until he bleeds and then get yourself in serious trouble."

  I bristle at that, but keep myself from squeezing the trigger. First, I need him to tell me exactly why he's here and maybethen I can shoot him. The appealing idea makes me smile. Logan takes a step back at the look on my face. I probably look a little like the Mad Hatter right about now. But I still don't say anything. Let him guess whatever he wants about my plan, it's not like he knows.

  "You're going back to the community, aren't you?" His question takes me aback. I drop the hand holding the gun, raising my shoulders in frustrated surrender.

  "How in the world do you know that?"

  "Foster keeps a close watch on his little self made town. He has cameras in a lot more places than the main holding house. He goes through all the pictures taken in that place. Such as those taken by say, the happy people of Pleasantville at a neighborhood event?" He raises his eyebrow, making sure I get the meaning. As if I'm stupid or something. That little condescending tone does not sit well with me.

  "I wasn't in any pictures."

  "I'm sure you dodged many. You just didn't dodge all. If I recognized you, so did Foster."

  "So what?" I almost scream in frustration. "I do, nothing? I can't get to him, Logan. This is the only way I can get close." I surprise myself with the way I speak to him, as if he's still part of the team. His name sounds foreign on my lips, but I see the effect it has on him. Much like his voice has on me.

  "Is it?" He asks after a moment of silence. "Anastasia, think this through—"

  I don't let him finish. The rage I feel at the sound of my name on his lips is instantaneous. It's like flipping a switch. I cross what there is of the floor between us, pinning him by the throat in the same move. We're against the wall in the space of a second, my forearm at his jugular, my other arm keeping the gun steady at his temple.

  "You. Have. No. Right. To. Call. Me. That." I say, emphasizing each work with my tone and my hand, pushing the barrel of the gun into the side of his head. I watch uncertainty enter his eyes for the first time since he got here. My body shakes with fury. It shakes with confusion.

  With need.

  Just like that, clarity comes.

  I miss him. I miss Logan and the girl he showed me I could be. He never tried to change me, he just showed me that there's another way.

  Just as suddenly as the fury came, comes sadness.

  Despair.

  Loneliness.

  Heartache.

  Stumbling away from Logan, I drop to my knees. I hear him call out to me, but it's as if we're suddenly in a tunnel. I look up to see his mouth moving, but can't hear anything over the buzzing in my head. I'm battling for control, but it’s like I never did find a grounding point earlier. There are tears in my eyes where there used to be hatred and I can't stop. I'm getting nowhere.

  "Tasia." I finally hear through the buzz. Before I can move, a hand reaches out, bringing my face up to meet his. Logan is there. That's right. He's the one that made me lose control. I concentrate on the feel of his fingers against my chin, before he moves them farther up, to cup my face. He holds me between his two palms and I think he's saying breathe.

  And then I do.

  Air gushes out of my lungs and then I'm back. The buzzing is gone, and all I can do is stare up into the face of the guy who betrayed me. Finding some sliver of strength, I push away from his touch, scrambling to my feet.

  "You need to leave." I point in the general direction of the door, while searching for where I dropped my gun. It's right where I was kneeling and a part of me is suspicious of why Logan didn't reach for it. He's my enemy now. I don't even understand why he's here.

  "Tasia, we need to talk."

  "I think we've said all we needed to say to each other." I finally turn to face him. He's right where I left him, concern all over his features.

  "Has that been happening a lot? The jump in emotional outputs?"

  "Emotional outputs? Wow, that's a fancy name. Not too many syllables for you, I hope?" He rolls his eyes at my attempt at an insult, and takes a step closer.

  "I wouldn't do that if I were you.” I say, “Wouldn't want my 'emotional outputs' to get wonky again and end with you losing a limb. Wait, on the other hand—" I let the sentence hang, and surprisingly, Logan listens. Maybe it's because of my unstable behavior, but he seems to believe me. I smile wider, pointing in the direction of the door again.

  "I'm sorry for what they did—"

  "For whatyou did, you mean?"

  "But," he continues as if I haven't spoken. "I can help stabilize you. You may be reacting differently from others, but you still have the regular symptoms. If we can stabilize your blood, it will help with control."

  "I'm sorry, NOTHING is 'regular' about this!" I shout, taking a menacing step forward. "Whatever Foster put in my blood is a violation and I'm not about to let you, or anyone else, mess with it again."

  "Even if it can help?"

  "I'll figure it out on my own. I'm not the problem here, Logan. You are."

  "I came to help."

  "I've had enough of your help to last me a lifetime. Get out. Get out now. We're done."

  I don't wait for him to argue anymore. I march to the door, swing it open, pointing my gun at him. "Don't think I won't pull this trigger, Logan."

  "I know you would," he says, stopping in the doorway. There's sadness in his voice, but the walls are back. I'm not backing down. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but what I did had a purpose. Maybe one day, you'll let me explain it to you."

  "Don't count on it," I say, before I shut the door in his face. Only when I'm sure he walked away do I allow myself to breathe. I sink against the door, bringing my knees up to my chest.

  I'll have to learn to control my emotions better. I have to finish getting ready for the next part of the plan.

  Figuring out why I didn't shoot Logan on sight will have to wait.

  13.

  I had a crappy night of sleep, to say the least. But today is here and there's nothing I can do to stop the avalanche of events about to unfold in front of me. I feel better just because I'm doing something. Granted, that something is walking into a prison. A pretty suburban prison, but prison nonetheless. The moment I'm inside, there's no turning back. And honestly, I'm terrified.

  I'm terrified I'll fail.

  I'm terrified I'll succeed.

  I have to succeed.

  Taking the taxi to the front gate of the community, I get out with one bag slung over my shoulder. The guard I met a few nights ago is the one to greet me as I walk up to the guard shack.

  "Welcome back, Miss," he greets me warmly. Obviously he's been talked to, if not by Foster then by Joy, telling him I'm welcome and will be staying. "Miss Joy will meet you at the front building. Would you like a ride?" He points to a golf cart parked on the other side of the street.

  "No, thank you." I make sure to smile. "If it's alright, I just want to walk. The cab ride was a little long for my liking."

  The guard doesn't find that strange, and if he does, he doesn't mention it. Instead, he points in the direction of the front house and keeping my head held high, I start walking. It's only a four minute walk, but in that time I go over everything I've p
lanned in my mind. Opening up the vault of information, I pull out the pictures and blueprints we've been able to acquire. My mind races with possibilities, but I have to keep reminding myself to act nonchalant. I know they suspect me, but I also know they expect results from the drugs they've pumped into my body. I'm here to deliver those results.

  As I walk up to the front house, Joy steps out. I'm surprised to see her by herself, but I guess she feels like there's nothing to fear from me now that I'm here. She's in her domain and I'm just part of that game board.

  "Welcome welcome, Honey!" she exclaims, opening her arms wide towards me. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to hug her or not, but gladly, she takes the reigns and clasps my hands warmly. She's good, I’ve got to give her that. Even studying her closely I can't find fault in her enthusiasm. She's genuinely happy that I'm here and I guess that helps her sell it.

  "Hello, Joy. Thank you so much for seeing me on such a short notice." I try for her enthusiasm level, but don't quite reach it. I sound more sad than anything and I guess that'll help sell my side of the story.

  "Oh, it's no bother. I'm sorry you've been having problems with your landlord." She says, but doesn't sound sorry at all. My cover is that I got kicked out of my apartment building and had nowhere else to turn but the "nice people I met at the barbecue". Granted, I'll have to shed that cover soon, but she doesn't know why I'm here. Not yet.

  "Let's get you set up. You'll be staying with us, of course. For the time being—"

  "I couldn't—"

  "But you must."

  There's really no arguing there so I just smile and nod like a good little girl. As we head for her golf cart, I try to keep the intense emotions off my face. There's so much anger in me when I think of these people and this institution. I want to rip them to pieces. I want to cut those smiles right off their faces.

  But.

  Not yet.

  I hate that I have to keep reminding myself of that.

  "Is that all you have?" Joy asks pointing at my duffle bag, as we settle into her golf cart.

  "I travel light," I reply, knowing full well they're going to go through my bag at some point. We head toward her house, as Joy continues chattering happily.