Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
The rooms were small and basic, very similar to some of the soldiers’ barracks in Leopold.
Two metal beds on either side, one nightstand between them with lockers at the ends of the beds for personal storage.
A towel, nightclothes, bathroom kit, black cargo pants, and top were waiting on my bed.
Folded with a note signed My heart feels full again—Nagybacsi.
“Look who is already Lieutenant’s pet.” Birdie rolled her eyes at the note.
“He’s family to me.”
“Don’t we all know it.” She huffed, opening her locker and pulling out a towel and bathroom kit. “Sometimes your well-being dictated his actions even ahead of our mission. Brexley, Brexley, Brexley.” Her lips curled as she stood up.
It felt strange to know the Resistance knew about me this whole time, had been watching me, and I had no clue.
“I have never seen him lose his shit like he did when he found out you were in Halálház. Not even when Ling was caught.” Looking ready to head off to the shower with a towel in her hand, she sat on her bed instead.
“She was trained for something like that. Prepared. He knew she would be okay. But you . . . fuck. He flipped out. Almost blew our cover.”
I glanced down at the note in my hand, placing it on the nightstand. Andris was better at expressing his emotions in writing than saying them out loud. My birthday cards were always full of love, but I heard it very seldom from his mouth.
“I don’t think he thought you would make it out. Honestly, none of us here did. We had bets.”
“On whether I would die or not?” I tucked hair behind my ear.
Birdie shrugged. “You’re human. No human lives long in there.”
“Yeah . . .” Human. Was I? Shoving away the thought, I looked at her defensively. “Well, I did.”
“I heard you were in the Games. Ling told us you killed two people at once, one being fae.” The first sign of excitement lit up her eyes.
I didn’t respond.
“That you were beaten, tortured, starved, and still even fought against the Wolf.” Birdie rolled over his name in a hushed whisper, like she was afraid to summon the devil.
Not far from the truth, actually. “Ling says he’s real, but come on.
Warwick Farkas? The legend known to kill a dozen fae at once without a weapon?
There’s no way you could fight against him. ”
I kept my mouth shut. It was clear Andris kept his association with Warwick secret. Little did she know he had been right above her head just hours ago . . . or in the bathroom with me only minutes prior.
“I guess if I did all those things, it’s probably wise not to underestimate me.” I tilted my head, lifting an eyebrow. “Though it is fun when people do.”
A knowing smile quirked her mouth, and she nodded. She understood all too well. Fae were far less sexist than humans, but it still seeped in, tainted the land here, going back generations.
“I’m gonna go jump in the shower.” She rose from the squeaky bed, traveling for the door.
“Um, hey.” I cleared my throat. “I was wondering . . . What is Scorpion’s deal?”
“Oh?” I heard a strangle in the vowel in that single word, instantly having me curious if she and Scorpion were a thing.
“Just got a strange vibe off him. He looked as if he wanted to kill me.”
She chuckled. “That’s how Scorpion is with everyone. A man of few words, and most of those are one syllable. But when you see him fight, it’s like poetry. Harsh, vicious, cruel poetry. But damn, I can only imagine the way he fucks.”
“So, you two . . . ?”
“No.” She frowned. “He won’t touch any girl here, but he goes on a lot of missions, and I’m thinking he finds someone to get him off.
No person with so much rage and death can go long without releasing it somewhere.
” She bit down on her lip. “I’d be more than willing to work out his anger with him. ”
“What’s happened to him?”
“What hasn’t?” She scoffed, her eyes rolling back.
“Like most of here, he has a real fucked up past. But he was in the Fae War twenty years ago and has some real PTSD shit going on. He and Maddox were Unseelie soldiers together. Maddox knew him since they were kids and said the man who went into war was vastly different from the man who walked out.” A tendril of dread slunk around my stomach.
“Drunk one night, Maddox started confessing all this shit . . . told me he saw Scorpion get killed. Like completely gutted and cut in half.”
“What?” My spine straightened.
“I mean, I doubt it. They were in the middle of a fucking war at night. Maddox probably thought he saw him get axed.” She shook her head, grabbing for the door handle.
“Though it freaked me out how persistent Maddox was. He looked me dead in the eyes, and I had never seen him look frantic or scared before. He swore he saw . . .”
“Saw what?” My throat strangled, barely letting the question out.
She stepped through the doorway, looking back at me.
“That he had watched his friend die then come back to life that night.”
The clock glowed three a.m. in the pitch-black room, sleep dodging me at every turn. Birdie’s heavy breathing was a constant taunt of what my mind denied me.
After my shower, I had climbed into bed, hoping my fatigue would pull me instantly into a slumber. Nope. My mind tossed and turned over thoughts and questions, not able to stop the nagging sensation in my gut.
Thoughts of Scorpion nipped at the back of my head. It was a coincidence. Lots of people died that night. Probably a lot who were close to death ended up surviving. Maddox probably thought he saw something different from what happened. In times of war, memories could twist in your mind.
I had heard countless stories of how brutal and horrendous the war had been, but I couldn’t fully imagine it. Millions of humans had died from the influx of magic. The loss of fae from the battles stretching across the globes was also great.
When I was six or seven, a violent thunderstorm hit Budapest, and my father hid behind our sofa, yelling out orders, screaming to attack, talking to people I knew were no longer alive.
I got so scared I started to cry. My tears brought him back to himself.
He wrapped me in his arms and started to sob.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s okay, kicsim.” He rocked me in his arms. “Daddy just gets confused sometimes. Thinks he’s somewhere else.”
“Where?” I clutched a stuffed dog to my chest, digging my head into my father’s shoulder.
“To a place where I lost more than my friends. I lost my heart that night.”
“Mommy?”
“Yes, kicsim. I wasn’t there when she left this world. Never got to say goodbye. But I gained you . . . It makes it worth it.” He kissed my forehead. “Because you, my little one, you are my soul.”
We stayed this way for a moment before he spoke softly. “Know if anything happens, I will always look out for you. There is nothing I won’t do to keep you safe. Your uncle is watching over you too. We will all protect you.”
Little did I know the real significance of those words. He wasn’t talking in general; he knew then something was different about me.
Itching in my skin, I tossed off my covers, needing to move. In sweats and a T-shirt issued to me, I slipped on my boots and sports bra, heading to the workout room to focus my energy.
The hallways were dimmed for the night, and all the rooms were dark, but the people on night watch nodded at me as I passed.
Turning on the training room lights, I went straight to the hanging punching bags, diving straight into a warmup Bakos had us do a lot. Ten minutes in, sweat trickling down my brow, I felt a prickling at the back of my neck, and with a swish of awareness, I sensed someone in the room.
I was not alone. Spinning around, my body jerked with alarm.
Scorpion leaned against the wall, watching me. Dressed as if he never went to bed, his penetrating hazel eyes trapped me in their gaze.
Swallowing, I schooled my expression into composure, but my heart thumped wildly in my chest, and not from exercise.
“Did you need something?” I reached over to grab some water.
He didn’t move or speak.
“Nice talking to you.” I started to turn back for the bag.
“You can cut the crap.” His deep voice fit him perfectly. Raspy and irritated.
“Cut what crap?” I tightened my ponytail.
Scorpion pushed off the wall, his six-foot frame heading for me. He had a lean build, though I could tell what body mass he did have was pure muscle.
“You know what the fuck I’m talking about.” His boots hit mine, driving me back until I hit the bag, his cankerous tone spitting out like nails.
I stared back at him, my jaw clenching down. My entire world was about to crumble around me. Warwick was hard enough to explain, but Scorpion would push me over. There would be no rationalizing it away.
“I don’t know what you mean.” My throat bobbed, my eyes going to the side with anxiety.
He scoffed, moving in closer. “I can fucking feel your panic. I can taste it.” He snarled, getting into my face. “How the fuck is that possible? How did I know where you were without even looking? How can I feel you like a goddamn ghost tramping over my grave?”
“And here Birdie says you don’t talk much.” I glared, my defenses rising like a fortress.
His hand grabbed my chin, fury bursting through him. “Don’t fuck with me. What the hell are you? How are you doing this? Aren’t you human?”
Ripping my face from his grip, I moved away from him.
“Tell me.”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me.”
“I’m not!” I tossed out my arms. “I don’t understand this any more than you do.”
He tilted his head. I could feel his distrust, his anger brushing against my skin.
“You doubt me. Fine. You say you can feel me? Reach out. See if you can detect any lies.” I motioned to myself, then dropping my arms to my sides, opening myself to him, which felt like brushing my hair the wrong way.
I wanted to close down, push away, fight the obtrusive connection slinking over me like webs.