Chapter 18
Iwant to talk to my mother. It is an impulse I haven’t entertained in a long time, but without any friends of substance and a father who’d take my actions as treachery, my mother is the only one who would listen without judgment.
I want to tell her I met a girl. I want to tell her about the rebellion, about how they want the freedom she always dreamed the country could be capable of.
I want to tell her how this girl saved my life, how she entangled me.
I want to ask her how I should feel. I want to ask her what I should do.
I want her to ferry me to the shores of decision and take my hand. But I know what she would say.
She would tell me to be happy. She would tell me to do what was right, not only in my head, but in my heart. She would tell me to trust my instincts.
Well, I resent my instincts. I resent the instinct that drew me to Taylor at the ball.
I resent the instinct that buried my trust in her.
I resent this rebellion for making me a traitor to my family and for its seductive ideals.
I resent their stupid assassin for her pretty face and sincere compliments and risking her life to protect me.
Lucy…life is risky. Love is riskier. The gamble on love is not about what you risk to lose, but what you risk to gain.
I tell her that’s easy for her to say. It’s not her heart, and she’s dead.
Taylor and Hunter speak quietly, but constantly.
From the car to the copter, they regale each other with tales of the past two years.
Hunter’s petty insubordinations against Wolfshield and Taylor’s major victories for the rebellion.
Mason’s injury. Faith’s demise. Taylor’s nearly fatal encounter with the local militia.
I speak to no one, but not out of anger.
As an only child, I’ve never witnessed a soul bond quite like theirs.
The rapport is so easy and knowing, the affection so infectious, I almost hate my parents for not providing me with a sibling.
We arrive at HQ to an absurd amount of fanfare.
Hunter is as well-liked as Taylor insinuated; people crowd us as the copter touches grass.
Everyone is cheering and rowdy, offering bottles of liquor and struggling to get a glimpse of the prodigal daughter returned.
Mason cuts through them and lifts Hunter off the ground with one arm.
They embrace, watched by what’s becoming a large gathering.
As the crowd begins pushing toward the tree line, Taylor stays behind to speak to our pilot. Without a word, he jogs to catch up with Hunter’s welcoming party, who’ve nearly disappeared back toward HQ.
“I thought you’d be the one leading the chorus,” I say, daring to hope the jealousy in my tone isn’t as apparent as it feels.
Taylor worries her bottom lip. “We have to go.”
“We do? Where?” My bones ache at the thought of it. It’s nearly midnight and I’m exhausted. We’ve been traveling for weeks and I’m desperate to settle.
“New York.” A chill runs through me despite the warm spring air. Straightening up, Eos emerges from her like a ghost expelled from a possessed body. “Leader Piccolo and Theia reached an agreement. We have to leave.”
I gesture toward the forest. “Alone?”
“Would you rather an audience?”
Obviously, I would not. Whatever this is, it’s going to end poorly. As if it’s quite normal, Taylor climbs into the pilot’s seat and secures herself in. I return to my seat in the back and pull on a pair of headphones still warm from our recent arrival.
“You can fly this?” I ask into the mic.
The copter gently rises off the grass. “You should hope so.”
She is, of course, quite adept at flying a helicopter. We sail beneath impending clouds, heading east over the forests. An hour in, curiosity gets the better of me.
“Taylor, what’s happening?”
Her posture stiffens, but her gaze remains steadfastly out the windshield. “We are meeting Leader Piccolo at the airport.”
“And, what? Heading to the islands for a summer getaway?”
“No.” She holds up a hand at the protestations I do not give voice. “Please. You had time to come to terms with the reality of your father’s situation, and though I would much rather have left you at HQ, Leader Piccolo insisted on seeing you in person.”
A resentful anger rises in me. “He wants me to watch you kill him?”
“The agreement to surrender is dependent on his seeing you are alive and well.” She glances back at me. “He wants to say goodbye.”
“It’s not like I have a choice, do I?” I reply, sitting back in my seat. “I never do.”
Her posture deflates, while her grip on the controls tightens. “Hang tight, we’ll be there soon.”
My city is on fire.
Brilliant lights flicker, blotted out by thick smoke and overpowered by the blistering heat of mechanical wildfires.
Taylor brings us around the top of the island, far from the fighting, but I can’t look away.
Buildings smolder. Streets are clogged with soldiers exchanging fire.
My home is a war zone. Despite the violence, the noise, and the fire, the city calls me home.
Our helicopter approaches the northern-most airport, creepily darkened.
Defunct or destroyed planes sit on the tarmac, and I realize the Order must’ve taken the airports first to trap them inside.
One plane sits alone on the black asphalt, a modest, private aircraft unperturbed by the newly fallen streams of rain.
It glistens against the blue lights of the airstrip, which also illuminate a stout figure next to a suitcase.
I gasp and unbuckle my seat belt, anxiously awaiting Taylor’s landing.
The blades cease their chopping, and I throw off my headset and take off toward him.
“Luciana.” He opens his arms and I toss myself into him, dissolving into tears, clutching his raincoat in my fists. His smell—cologne and cigar smoke—makes more tears fall from my eyes. “Don’t cry, principessa. I’m so happy you’re alive.”
I pull back to examine his face. He looks like he’s aged several years in the past few months. Red veins crawl from his black eyes, purple bags sitting heavy below them. “I’m sorry, Papa.”
“No, I should be sorry. I should have seen this coming and prevented it.” He swallows thickly and rubs the scraggly beard he’s grown in my absence.
“They almost have the city. They took Boston weeks ago, Providence after. It wasn’t long before the major states defected, but I held my city. Our city.”
The Order, everyone, see a tyrant, ruthless and calculating, and they’re right.
My father is a lot of horrible things, but he is also my father.
For that reason, I cannot quite abhor him the way I should.
I see a human, complex and flawed and selfish.
I see my daddy, who taught me how to ride a bike and throw a baseball.
I see a single father burdened by grief, trying his best to fill a gap, only to find it is a never-ending chasm.
I see the man whose hands were so full of his own despair he couldn’t carry mine.
I despised him for that weakness, but now I understand it. “I know.”
Taylor approaches from behind, giving us a modest amount of space. Papa looks over my shoulder, posture going rigid. You can take the man out of power, but you’d be hard-pressed to take the power out of the man. “So, you’re the one who kidnapped my daughter.”
“Yes, sir,” Taylor says, hands behind her back.
He takes a step away from me, unkempt mustache flicking. “You’re tiny.”
Taylor makes a face. “You’re large?”
“What’s your name?” As if he’s got any right to that information. The entitlement still oozes from him.
“Eos.”
He rolls his eyes. “That’s not a real name.”
“Papa, this is Taylor.” The qualifiers I want to use for her fail me. How can I explain to my father what this woman means to me without revealing my betrayal?
Taylor heaves a sigh. “Leader Piccolo, you understand the terms of the agreement, yes?”
“Yes. I am a man of my word.”
“What was the agreement?” I ask.
“I surrender the region, and my life, in exchange for your safety. The suitcase is yours. Well, whatever I could grab before I left. The lady in charge, Theo—”
“Theia,” I correct.
“—She said you would be safe.”
My blood turns to ice. I’m frozen, other than the slip of my jaw. “No, no, you can’t do this,” I plead to Taylor, who presses her lips to a thin line. “He’s given up everything, let him live. Let him go.”
“You knew what this was. The agreement guarantees your safety, not his.”
“No, this is bullshit.” I scramble back to Papa and plant myself in front of him. “I will not let you do this.”
Taylor lifts an eyebrow. “Let me? Say goodbye to your father, Miss Piccolo. You will not get another chance.”
Papa’s big black eyes are glossy with tears, but he roughly wipes them away. “You take care of yourself, Luciana. You’re a fighter like your mother. I know you’ll be okay.”
“But I…” I gesture vaguely toward Taylor and the Order she represents. I betrayed you. I believed in this. I think I still do.
“It’s okay, Lucy. It’s okay.” He coughs once to try and dissolve the lump in his throat. “I’m proud of you. I’m proud to leave you in this world, because I know you’ll do things right.”
I take him in another fierce hug, pressing him to me. “Daddy.”
He chuckles into my hair. “It’s been a long time since you called me that.”
“I know. I should have been better.”
“We both could’ve been better, but then we wouldn’t have been us,” he says. “Don’t forget how much I love you. Stay safe. Stay out of trouble.”
“Oh, you know I won’t.” His eyes sparkle with affection. “I love you, Papa.”
“I love you too, Luciana.”
Taylor clears her throat behind us and I turn around in preparation to hiss at her, only to be horrified at her unholstered gun and blank expression. “If you are finished?” She inspects her pistol, squinting down the length of the barrel. “Step away from Leader Piccolo, please.”
“But, Papa—”