Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
nyx
Ifeel like I'm under water, Noc’s voice faint and muffled as it tiptoes around my ears.
It’s like I’ve been shoved off a cliff, and I'm freefalling into a black hole, my heart fluttering beneath my painful ribs. “What... What do you mean? Is she?” I can’t finish that, I cannot physically allow those words to pass my lips.
If I voice them, that speaks them into existence.
“I'm sorry baby.” His pained whisper sends me into a vortex, one that’s cold and turbulent.
No. She can't be. “You're lying.”
He's got it wrong, or am I in a fever dream? Maybe I am, my body went through it.
“Brodie.” I can hear his voice, but I’m not listening, not understanding any of this.
“No, Noc! I want to see her.” My voice breaks at the end, teetering towards the emotion curdling inside me, like a thick tar in the pit of my stomach. I managed to get up, the room spinning with all the epinephrine pulsing through me, not allowing my movements to be as cautious as they should be.
Noc grips my shoulders again, but my eyes glare wide.
“You make me sit down one more time, and I'll take your fucking hands clean off, Noc. Take me to her. Now.” I hold his stare, not backing down. If he wants me to believe this, I need to see her. He rises before me, covering me in his shadow, but I hold my own. I’m not backing down on this.
I can see the moment in his eyes where the resolve crumbles.
“Put your shoes on.” Is my confirmation that he's given in, and he helps me over to put my boots on, one arm wrapped tightly around my waist to steady me.
I'm only dressed in a baggy t-shirt, so he goes into my armory and pulls out my thermal jacket. He grips my hand, guiding me through the hallway. Past Blitz’s room.
All I can hear is my pulse strumming through my body as we make our way out of the quarters and head outside.
The denial starts to slip from my grip, and the truth starts to push its way to the front.
We gradually come to a stop at one of the containers up the back of the compound where we first rescued Noc.
The weight of reality is heavy on my shoulders as he opens the door, the rusty creak slices through the cold wind, letting faint sunlight fill the interior.
That’s when my eyes swell at the body wrapped in white sheets.
Faint smearing of blood on the lower half.
The joints in my knees cease instantly as they collapse beneath me, but Noc grabs me before I hit the ground.
The ache in my body is nothing compared to the throbbing in my heart.
An ocean of grief consumes me, a sob racks my throat, one I’m losing the fight to contain, causing my body to shudder.
I crawl towards her, settling on my knees as I look at her uncovered face.
She looks like she's sleeping. The only indication of reality is the hurt that rips from my voice as I lay my hand atop her cold body.
My mind flashes with memories, and thoughts of how I'll never hear her witty comments easing the heaviness of our lives, or see her the constant inspections of any buildings we entered, just to ensure we were safe.
I think about those damn yellow pajamas she'd sit in whilst we were planning a massacre, a complete contrast to her environment.
She was the only entity in our hazardous lives that made everything a little bit lighter.
Noc’s arms wrap around me, pulling me in as he shifts on his knees, cradling me in his lap.
All I can do is cling to him as I stare at her in disbelief.
Part of my family, our unit, my friend. Gone forever.
I don't know how long we stay like this; time seemed to stop the moment the door creaked open.
But Noc makes no attempt to bring me inside, he holds me whilst rocking us back and forth, until my quiet sobs eventually fade out.
The grief is deafening, and the weight of the sorrow presses down on me.
All I can think of is the part I played in this, that her death has stained itself on my soul along with an oath to avenge her.
Graves has lit a fuse, and I'm the explosion waiting to happen.
I'll allow myself this time to mourn, to be vulnerable, to remember our fiery girl.
Because when tomorrow comes, the one responsible for this will regret the day he ever drew his first breath.
Two weeks.
That's how long it's been since I last heard Blitz's voice.
There's a subtle ache beneath my rib cage every time I hear it echo through my memories. Noc, Phantom, Adam and I moved back to the safehouse. Hawk remains at base as our eyes. We took Blitz back with us, buried her in the small woodland area behind Noc’s home.
She loved architecture, and was fascinated with all the homes in this area, so it felt fitting to bury her here when the guys suggested it.
Hawk arranged to send word to her family of her passing, but due to the secrecy of our work her body couldn't be returned home. It’s something we're all aware of for any loved ones we leave behind.
Fortunately for me, my dad and I will have similar fates.
I fight every minute of the day with the tears that swell in my eyes, but I’ve not allowed a single one to fall since I let her go in the container, even though the nightly battles are the worst for keeping them at bay.
Blitz wouldn’t want them. No. She’d want me to conjure an unfathomable vengeance, something just as unhinged as her, so she didn't die in vain, making sure Graves regrets this choice.
I'll make it feel like a heavy burden he'll forever know the weight of. Just like her death has become to me.
He's been in hiding, and Adam hasn't been able to find a shred of evidence as to where he's gone. Vanished without a trace. Hawk reached out this morning to say the director of Special Operations, Major Burrows, had contacted base to speak to Graves due to a lack of updates. Hawk had spun a tale of how Graves is in deep cover, whilst both our unit and 656 are separately out and active. Burrows apparently seemed confused, as he was expecting him to return to the US in a few days. Thankfully, Hawk thinks fast on his feet – years of keeping an eye on a corrupt commander will do that. He managed to keep Burrows at bay with a simple ‘There’s been a development on Volokov. Graves wanted to spread our resources to ensure nothing vital slipped through our fingers.’
Hawk has called Rhaine and Hunter back and, with Graves’s absence, we're going to need to fill them in on our precious Commander and all the scheming he's been up to. It helps that Adam recorded the conversation in the clearing through the enhancement device they had connected to their earpieces. Vital evidence of his and Volokov’s conversation to support our claims alongside the files.
It feels like we're getting closer to the end goal, but the pit of my gut swooshes with uncertainty whenever I think about it.
I try to put it down to the fact I'm still recovering and trying to manage the loss of Blitz. I’m not at my best, but my eye isn't swollen anymore though the bruises are taking a little longer to fade.
My stitches are out, and I can finally breathe without sounding like a petrol-powered chainsaw.
But I need to be on top of my game for what's ahead.
We're in the cruiser headed back to base, loaded with enough fire power to level a city - we're not risking another loss going forward, not to him.
Noc's driving, and I stare out at the fluttering traffic from the passenger seat. Phantom and Adam are in the back, monitoring the area around the base. “Rhaine and Hunter just returned, Graves is still not in sight,” Adam calls out. The muscles in my shoulders ease ever so slightly, more so since we need the opportunity to bring in as many people as possible on this. I want Graves to feel cornered. Because when an animal’s back is against the wall, they become erratic, and Graves certainly isn't one to cower.
No, he'll make a reckless move, and I know it'll play into my hands.
I feel that familiar, warm gaze prickling my skin.
I always know it belongs to Noc, even without looking.
It's the only reminder I'm not as cold as I feel on the inside.
I drag my eyes off the road and look straight into his - he's worried about me. I can see the shades of it laying over his expression. Ever since my panic attack about Graves’s real intentions, then getting kidnapped and almost being trafficked, to finding out Blitz was killed - he's waiting for me to combust. Like I'm one spark away from completely detonating.
But my mind is solid, composed. The storm inside it gently grumbles away in the far distance, out of harm's way.
It'll change its course once the main element comes into play.
The blaze intensifies as he rolls his eyes over the rest of me.
When he then looks forward, I’m left feeling cold, my normal temperature when he isn't focusing on me. I don’t miss the way his jaw tightens as he adjusts his hips in his seat.
His movements go straight between my thighs as I clench them, my hand scrambling to find the button to crack the window slightly.
The wind delivers the relief of an icy blast on my face.
I chance another look at him focusing on the road, and the corner of his mouth tips into a knowing smirk.
He's been grounding me these last couple of weeks, helping me to get lost in him rather than in my mind. And this is just another one of his tactics for when my thoughts have begun to stray. Like he has access to my psyche, knowing precisely when and how to rein me in.
It’s like an addiction, one that intoxicates and creates a smoke screen for the harsh realities of life.
The most dangerous type of drug I know has a heartbeat and Russian heritage.