Chapter 12 Common Ground
Common Ground
The Brotherhood Cross is not just an emblem. It is the heart of our unity. Under its shadow, defiance is crushed.
— RICHARD HAYNES, CAPITOL HILL ADDRESS
Lily Wyatt was the worst person I’d ever met—and I kept regular company with a man who could, by definition, be accurately termed a serial killer.
The girl had been fully indoctrinated into the intolerant NAO culture.
Hateful and brash, she lashed out at us like a petite blond snake.
She was irate she’d been rescued—or, to use her term, kidnapped—and spat insults at us designed to disparage our lifestyles, our religions, our sexual orientations, even her own gender.
She kicked and hissed at anyone who came near, while her pleas to return her to her father fell on deaf ears.
Sobbing, she beat her fists on her locked door, yelling we’d stolen her from her purpose in life.
I tried not to dwell on the psychological damage that went into a sixteen-year-old thinking her purpose in life was to serve a man.
Prior to relocating her to a base further from the active combat zone, we kept her in a small room with a twenty-four-hour guard.
Her enraged screams echoed through the entire sleeping wing, day and night.
I loathed her. Maybe it was unfair, but it didn’t matter.
I couldn’t wait for the day I never had to hear her voice again.
That Thursday, the house on Evanston was locked and empty. Extracting the key Lucas gave me, I checked over my shoulder before letting myself in.
The house was dark, the windows allowing for scant bits of summer evening light.
I waited for Lucas for two minutes before taking the opportunity to explore.
The house was a large ranch-style, mostly still furnished.
The kitchen and back bedroom were familiar to me, as were the master bedroom and large closet Lucas had converted into a communications room. The rest, however, remained a mystery.
I strolled the hallway, glancing at the pictures on the walls—paintings and dusty portraits of a happy family. I wondered where they’d gone. Maybe they found a safe place far away from the war.
Or maybe they were dead.
The end of the hall opened into a cheerful den lined with shelves full of books, vinyls and knickknacks. A plush sectional dominated the center of the room. Off in the corner, almost as if it had been forgotten, stood a shiny black grand piano, the only part of the room not covered in dust.
Sheet music was propped on the music rack. My fingers trailed the keys.
“That’s why I chose this house.”
I spun with a gasp, my heart in my throat. Lucas leaned on the doorjamb, arms crossed, shadows playing hide-and-seek across his face.
“Don’t sneak up on me!” I said.
He raised a lazy hand. “I’m not sneaking. I’m walking.”
“You walk like a jungle cat.”
His brows raised. “You startle like a deer.”
With my hand pressed to my chest, I willed my heart rate to return to normal. Only then did I register what he said. “The piano? That’s why you picked this house?”
“Most of the abandoned neighborhoods have been gutted or burned, but this one somehow survived. I suspect it’s because we’re close to the Defiance center of operations?”
I crossed my arms, silent.
He chuckled at my nonresponse. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Dangerous territory for a Hunter, but the grand piano was hard to resist.”
“You play?”
“Sometimes.”
“Play for me?”
His eyes narrowed. “No.”
I gazed down at the piano, dragging a finger over one key. “Someday?”
“Tell you what, if you can ever pin me in a fight, maybe I’ll teach you Chopsticks.”
“Finally!” I said, a grin pulling itself to the surface. “Some motivation!”
The edge of his mouth flickered like he wanted to smile, but he just shook his head. “Is staying alive not motivation enough for you?”
“Obviously not.”
With a sigh, he motioned me toward our training room. After he lit the candles, we faced each other.
“So…about the other night,” I said.
“What about the other night?”
“It went exactly like you said.”
His gaze flickered over my face, curious. “As has everything else I’ve told you about.”
“But you didn’t kill anyone.”
He paused, head cocked. “You asked me not to.”
I blinked. “I— You did that for me?”
A moment passed in which his expression morphed from impassive to incredulous, like I was the stupidest creature on the planet. “No. I did that for me.”
Butterfly wings fluttered in my chest while I searched his face for a telltale twitch, any sign of a lie.
He let out a long exhale. “Contrary to what you might believe, I don’t like killing people, Sophia. Didn’t realize that needed to be stated out loud, but I’d like it on the record.”
Words stuck in my throat. What did one say to an executioner who admitted to disliking it? I stammered out, “Right. I didn’t think…you—”
He raised a hand. “Just stop. How is she?”
I took a breath and shook myself. “Extremely annoying, if I’m being honest. There was a desperate moment in the middle of the night when she was screaming at us that I wished we’d let you keep her.”
He chuckled. “Bad enough I had her for three days. She’s a handsy little creep. No one taught her about personal space. I had to order her to sit in a corner so she’d stop touching me.”
“She called me a bushy-headed whore.”
His lips pressed together, but the amusement escaped anyway, in little crinkles around his eyes and twinkles in the aquamarine.
“You think it’s funny?”
“Just…picturing your response.”
I stomped my foot. “She’s the worst! She kept referring to us as dirty sluts, so I told her she was a waste of her dad’s spunk.”
His laugh was a sudden, powerful thing, like a crash of thunder. “She’s just a kid. You’re insulting her with…semen?”
I rolled my eyes. “She clearly has no problem with jizz, Lucas, since she was so intent on getting yours.”
The laughter died as he shuddered.
“Do you realize she believes she’d be happier as a slave to you than free with us?” I said. “She begged us to give her back to you.”
He shrugged. “She’s been brainwashed. She’s young enough. She’ll see the truth eventually.”
“The truth?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I mean…”
I waited, but he didn’t elaborate. “You mean…?”
He made a gesture like I was supposed to connect dots I absolutely couldn’t see. “Come on. We’re all different, but we’re still human. Still equal.” Then, under his breath, he added, “Still savages.”
“Equal?” My mouth gaped. “That’s your truth? You’re a Hunter!”
A lock of hair fell to hide the largest scar on his forehead when he cocked his head to the side. “Sophia, we’ve spent weeks together. Do you really still think I believe the NAO’s doctrine?”
Well…
He fought on their side and executed innocent people. But he’d never treated me like I was beneath him for being female, had he? And the things he said…
“No, I guess I don’t. I don’t know who or what you are.”
“I’m the guy teaching you how to not die. You ready?”
I rolled my eyes but nodded, nonetheless.
I fought and lost to him for more than an hour before he let me breathe.
If only I’d trained more with Tekqua when I had the chance, maybe I wouldn’t be so winded.
Still, each loss on my part was met with a small piece of advice.
When I tried to utilize that advice, however, he countered it with another way to disable me.
My improvement was masked by his unbeatable excellence, and I grew tired and sweaty, my mood settling somewhere in the dregs of outright waspishness.
But…
Every time he showed me how to free myself from a certain grasp or attack from a disadvantaged position, the information shuffled through the catalogue in my brain, filing into a section entitled Survival.
I growled when I’d finally managed to trap his arms behind him, and he gave a sharp twist. I ended up on my back, blinking at him.
His silent laughter burst my last bubble of patience. I aimed a kick at his ankle, but he hopped back to avoid it.
“Help me up, you evil bastard.”
He grabbed my wrist, and I clutched his forearm, but he hissed and pulled away. He shook out his arm a couple of times before offering his other hand to help me, murmuring a soft apology.
“You okay?” I asked, studying his arm.
His face blanked. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. If you don’t want to tell me, just say it.”
“Fine.” He raised one eyebrow. “I don’t want to tell you.”
I gripped my hips. “Tell me anyway.”
Wincing, he shook his arm again. “Has anyone ever pointed out the sheer idiocy of your stubbornness?”
I fastened on an innocent smile. “You could always request someone else. I’m sure there are less stubborn girls itching to spend every Thursday night wrestling with you.”
A hint of the smirk appeared. “No. It’s you or no one. Deal with it.”
“Then you deal with me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Why?”
“Maybe I can help.”
His gaze grew bright, his eyes wide. “Help?”
“Yeah,” I said, shoving away the sudden flare of self-consciousness. “I—I’m a medic.”
“You want…to help me?”
Did I want to help him? Why on earth had I offered it? I didn’t care that he was in pain.
Except…I did care.
“I think I do,” I said as heat climbed my cheeks.
He scratched his neck. “Right. They, uh, weren’t exactly happy I managed to lose the general’s daughter. She was in my care when she was taken. I was…questioned.”
“Questioned,” I repeated, tone flat.
He said nothing.
“You mean punished.”
Still nothing.
My heart thumped, and my gaze shot down his body, searching for injuries. “What did they do to you?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll survive.”
“But they hurt you…”
Lucas released a heavy, bitter laugh. “It’s nothing compared to what they’ve done to my soul.”
My entire body froze at that admission. I wanted so badly to believe he wasn’t the man I’d expected in the beginning. Would he give me proof?
“I can’t fix your soul,” I said, voice raspy. “But maybe I can fix the rest.”