20. Clay
Chapter 20
Clay
If I had known telling Fiona the truth about me would lead to a mind altering, earth shattering kiss, I would have told her a helluva lot sooner. I take my time heading down the steps, doing my best not to dwell on Fiona’s manic reaction to Rafael’s corpse. It was eerily similar to how I reacted to killing Candace, which means there’s a mountain of grim history between them. The idea of him torturing her sends me into a blind rage, so I let the fact that the bastard is no longer breathing appease me for now.
I’ve never been to this safe house. Raven had it built while we were still at the now destroyed bunker where Paul snapped my neck and Infinitum kidnapped John. It’s small, meant for only a handful of people, and perfect for our current situation.
At first, I worry Fiona is going to stay next to the lake and freeze her ass off. Her shoes tap on the metal stairs and I let out a sigh of relief. I’m impressed she’s made it this far without a meltdown, but I know it’s coming. There’s only so much a person can handle when their reality is obliterated.
I curse myself and my stupidity for leaving her alone for even a second. I should have known better. Specter called me to the far side of Emilia’s property when Paul wasn’t responding. He assured me the room was safe and we would know if anyone tried to get in. We didn’t count on Fiona leaving the room. We’ll have to have a talk about the dangers of not following instructions, especially now that she’s under our protection.
By the time we realized what was happening, Rafael’s idiots were attempting to execute us. Following Fiona was a trap, but I didn’t care. It took one look at Paul and his answering nod, and we were moving as the bullets started flying. Paul sped Dylan out of there, and as I arrived at the estate a few minutes later, dear old daddy Edgewater was hightailing it off the property. It was empty except for Fiona and Rafael, whom I assume Lawrence wanted dead. I was all too happy to oblige him.
I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared or angry as I sped towards Fiona. It was enough to unlock a new ability when a violent storm cloud formed over the mansion in an otherwise cloudless sky.
I gave anyone in a five-mile radius all the evidence needed to prove I was a super soldier. My decision also ended our mission. Raven is going to rip me a new asshole, but I’ll protect Fiona over anything else.
A soft sniffle pulls me out of my thoughts, and I realize Fiona has fallen behind. I climb the steps for half a minute before I find her. She’s huddled against the wall, sitting on the narrow steps.
She doesn’t look up as I approach, just stares at her shoes as I settle in front of her. In the soft light, she looks like a porcelain doll that will shatter at the barest hint of pressure. But I know there’s nothing but steel and grit beneath the fragile veneer.
“There are new clothes and shoes for us in the mini bunker. There’s a woman on our team who is about your size.”
Her exhausted gaze drags to mine, and she sniffles again. The moisture gathered in her eyes glimmers in the dim light, but she refuses to let it escape.
“I’m scared,” she whispers, and my shriveled heart cracks right down the middle.
I gather her hands in mine. “Me too,” I admit, my voice just as quiet as hers.
Her eyebrows furrow, and she swallows hard as she stares at my hands.
“You died,” she whispers.
“It will take more than a few bullets to kill me.”
She glances at the hole in my shirt and the dried blood, and I pull it aside to show her my self-healed wound.
She stares at it for a long moment, then drags her finger over the pink skin, sending shivers down my spine.
“Does it hurt?”
“Like a motherfucker, but the pain doesn’t last.”
She stares at the hole again, lost in thought.
“We’re almost there. Just a few more steps. I’ll make us something warm to drink and then I’ll tell you everything. How does that sound?”
She hesitates, and I cradle the side of her head. She leans into my touch and my chest tightens. “You’re safe here. I promise.”
She searches my face, and I wait her out. With a deep sigh, she nods and I help her to her feet. We descend together, one slow step at a time.
“Why is it so dark?” she asks.
I lift my palm, and a small ball of glowing and writhing lightning floats ahead of us. She gasps and flattens against the wall. I push it further away as I look at her over my shoulder. “Did I make it worse?”
She blinks a few times, then shakes her head and motions for me to continue. I try my best to muster a reassuring smile, and we keep going in silence. A few minutes later, we make it to the metal roof of the bunker and I spin the lock. Even with my enhanced strength, I have to put extra effort into it. After a few spins, it moves on its own and the lid lifts. Lights pop on inside the room below us, and a ladder descends.
“Welcome, Agent Firebolt,” Nova says. Fiona stares at the hole with wide eyes.
“That’s Nova. She’s the bunker’s AI. Home sweet home,” I say, smirking at her just to bring some normalcy into the moment. She heaves a sigh and follows me down the ladder.
I climb a few steps down, then drop the remaining short distance. I wrap my hands around her hips and she lets go of the ladder and lets me lower her to the ground.
The door flips shut and locks with a few spinning clicks, and we take in our surroundings. The space is compact compared to the bunker 2.0, where Lexi and the rest of my family live, but it’s cozy. It’s about fifty feet by fifty feet, with a small kitchenette built into the stone wall. A screen takes up one wall where a fake fireplace burns and a fake window shows a live feed of the lake outside. A large panel on the adjacent wall houses the components needed to run this place, including a state-of-the-art water filtration system that takes water from the lake, filters it for use, then filters it again before it’s pumped back out to the lake.
Folding cots lay stacked in the corner next to a small bookshelf carved into the natural stone containing books and games. A low couch sits in front of the screen with a six person dining table between it and the kitchen. Two doors take up the last wall. One leads to a bedroom with a queen bed and a walk-in closet. The other leads to a decent sized bathroom with a jacuzzi tub. Perks of working for a billionaire.
“This is amazing,” Fiona breathes. “How did you get the couch in here?” she asks, eyeing the small hole we just crawled through.
“AI robots built this place. You’ll have to ask them.”
Her mouth drops open and I chuckle. “Let me grab the first aid kit, and I’ll join you on the couch.”
She runs a hand through her hair and sits on the edge of the couch, inspecting the screen for defects.
While she’s preoccupied, I tap on my implant. “We’re inside.”
“You did the right thing, Clay. I’m going to cut off comms while things settle down. I’ll reach out when we have next steps,” Raven says.
“Can you keep an eye on her cousin, Rosalee? Let her know Fiona is safe?” I ask.
“On it. Stay safe.”
The line goes dead and I nearly fall over from shock. When a small poke with my powers shows there’s no electrical charge in the implant, I know he’s turned it off on his end, which means Liv or Charlie are the only ones who can communicate with me because of their nifty telepathic abilities until he turns it back on.
I haven’t been disconnected from Sylvie like this since I was a prisoner of Infinitum. I push away the unease and focus on the task at hand.
When I return to Fiona with the kit, she’s still staring at the wall, her hands tucked between her knees. I scrutinize her ruined shirt as I approach her from the side. The cut isn’t deep, but blood trickles from the gash.
I reach for the hem and she lifts her arms so I can pull what remains of her shirt off. Blood soaks through the back of her sports bra. I do my best to be gentle as I dab antiseptic onto some gauze and press it to the second wound that asshole carved into her on my watch. Most people would hiss or flinch, but she doesn’t even acknowledge my presence.
“All of your scars…are they from him?” I ask.
“There’s one from my father and one from my stepmom. But the others…yes. They’re from him.”
With my free hand, I cup her chin as gently as I can so she meets my eyes. “They will never touch you again,” I say with absolute finality. Tears spill from her eyes, but she remains still.
I return to my task. She relaxes somewhat and I clean her up and cover the wound with ointment before I bandage it up. “Do you want some painkillers?”
She shakes her head. “It’s not that bad.”
I press my lips together, but keep my comments to myself. What other horrors has this woman faced? I busy my hands with cleaning up and then head to the kitchen.
“Why don’t you grab a hot shower? The bandage is waterproof. Help yourself to the clothes in the bedroom closet.”
She stands without a word and heads into the bedroom. I dig around the cupboard and pull out a can of Sylvie’s magical elixir, also known as an electrolyte drink designed for super soldier’s needs. It’s also proven to help civilians after their first experience of speeding with a super soldier. I pour water from the tap into the kettle and set it on the stove, doling out a scoop into Fiona’s mug and two in mine. Most of the guys prefer it cold, but Paul turned me onto the idea of sipping it hot and I never looked back.
I cross my arms and stare out the fake window while I wait for the kettle to boil. Should I wait until she’s had time to process everything before I dump even more in her lap? She and I are more alike than I could ever have imagined. I would want to know everything, so she would too. Secrets only get people hurt or killed.
The kettle whistles a moment later, and I pour the steaming water into the mugs. I startle when Fiona emerges from the bathroom, realizing I’ve been stirring the mugs for the past few minutes. Her damp hair hangs behind her shoulders and she wears a dark gray t-shirt that’s a little too big for her with black leggings and a pair of black wool socks.
I hand her the mug as she approaches.
“It will help your stomach.”
Her scrunched eyebrows relax after a tentative taste, and she settles onto the couch, watching me expectantly. I settle next to her, turning the mug in my hands, letting it warm them while I figure out where to start.
“I need to call Rosalee. She’ll be worried sick,” she says.
“My team will make sure she knows you’re safe.”
She chews her inner lip. “Where are we?”
“Upstate New York.”
She stares at me. “You…we…how?”
“We call it speeding . I can run really fast, but I’m not the fastest.”
“So you’re one of them? The Chosen?”
I scrunch my nose. “No. I don’t work for Infinitum. But they created me.”
She blinks in confusion, and if we weren’t in such a dramatic situation, I might boop her nose with how cute she is. I set my mug down and face her, choosing my words carefully as I expose her to my harsh reality.