Landon
MY HEAD HURTS. BETWEEN the constant rain of clenched fists battering my body and the ropes around my wrists and ankles, I have no hope of a reprieve.
These men—they’re angry with me. They want information about my Uncle Benji, such as where he’s living and how to contact him. But I refuse. If they want to beat me and use my gift, fine. I will not give them Uncle Benji.
It is the last good thing I can do; my last-ditch effort at making my family proud.
“Where is he?” one of the men asks again, swinging his fist and slamming his knuckles against my already busted lip.
I spit blood, but the black cloth in my mouth catches it and makes me cough. All around me, coating the concrete, is red.
I’m unsure as to why they can’t find my uncle themselves, especially when it was so easy to find me. They must have been tracking me, waiting for me to be alone.
But I still have hope—even if it is stupid. Hope that Nate saw them grab me, and he’s either narrowing down my location or building himself an army to come and save me.
He doesn’t hate me, after all. He wants to make the darkness disappear. I… I mean something to him, even if I’m bratty and a little irresponsible in his eyes.
The man delivers another kick to my stomach, rocking the metal chair I’m tied to as his buddy laughs. “I will not ask you again, boy. Where is he?”
They’re both wearing masks, so I can’t truly identify them. Even if I make it out alive, I won’t be able to report them correctly. I guess that’s the point of masks, though.
“Not answering?” the other guy asks, and he sounds delighted by the chance to hit me again. “Fine. We’ll show you why—”
“Enough, Repressor Kevin,” a strong, commanding voice calls out.
The only door in this building, a small one in the far back corner, has opened. Several people walk in, but all I can see is how the light has faded into darkness outside.
How many days have I been here? It feels like forever.
“How can you expect him to answer as he’s forced to be silent? He’s choking on his own blood, is he not?” The man talking is tall, well-built, and wearing a pressed suit.
On his left breastplate is a small patch that reads Watchers. He wears no ski mask and looks almost as if he’s just stepped from a business meeting. There are three others with him, all dressed the exact same way.
What the fuck is a watcher?
“My name is Joseph,” the man says, shooing the two ski-masked men away with a flick of his wrist. “I am the head of the council at EP.”
I can say nothing, so I just stare right at him. I’m not scared. Someone will come to save me; I just know it.
Joseph gives me a curious smile, his head cocking. “Right, you can’t speak. Cecilia, my dear, the B109, please.”
The what?
But I have no time to be curious, because a vial of blue liquid is being presented, and a woman with short, platinum blonde hair is ripping the cloth from my mouth.
“Sto—” But I can’t get the whole word out, let alone use my gift, as the liquid is being poured down my throat.
“None of that, honey,” Joseph chastises, his grip on my jaw tight as he keeps it pried open.
Cecilia, I presume, pockets the empty vial but doesn’t bother to put the cloth back in my mouth. Why? Are they not afraid I’ll… that I’d…
Something is wrong. It feels as if a balloon is inflating in my chest, forcing down my coercion with each pained breath I take, making it inaccessible to me.
“What did you give me?” I ask, and since I’m speaking for the first time in who knows how long, my voice comes out rough and foreign. My throat hurts.
“It’s a serum,” a different suit explains. He’s keeping his distance, standing next to the last of their little gang as they gaze at me in disgust. “It keeps you from using your gift.”
“Don’t worry,” Joseph tells me, laughing lightly. “It only lasts a few hours.”
“So,” Cecilia begins, giving me a pointed glare as she taps the toe of her high heel. “Where is your uncle?”
“Fuck you,” I tell her, and this time, as I spit blood from my mouth, it lands right next to her.
She scoffs, but Joseph just laughs again.
“Feisty! I am starting to see why Repressor Nathaniel was failing.”
Repressor? That’s the second time I’ve heard that now. Whatever watchers and repressors are, I don’t want a part in it. I just need to sort out how to—
Wait. Repressor Nathaniel?
Surely not. They cannot be talking about my Nathaniel.
But something must show on my face now, because a sadistic, twisted grin covers the friendly one Joseph was just wearing.
“Yes, that Nathaniel. Did he not tell you? Were you unaware that he worked for me? For EP?”
“Liar,” I sneer, leaning forward in my chair. “Let me go now, and I won’t bring my family into this. Do you know who I am?”
“I do,” Joseph says easily. “You’re Landon Presley, and your uncle is Benji Presley. And I am not a liar, Landon.”
No. Nathaniel wouldn’t… he likes me, even if he’s yet to say it definitively. They must be thinking of someone different, or maybe they’re using him against me because they saw me with him.
Yes! That must be it. They’re after Nate’s power too and are trying to use some sick psychology on me.
“Don’t believe me? Well, that’s fine.” Joseph pulls up a spare chair, taking a seat in front of me. “Now, tell me about your uncle. I promise to be more civil than my repressors if you comply.”
“Fuck. You.”
“Boston,” the man in front of me suddenly calls out, all sincerity wiped from his face completely.
“Yes,” one of the other men says, walking forward and presenting him with a metal rod.
And then Joseph hits me with it, slamming it down over my shoulder so hard I scream. Pain blossoms throughout my body, lighting me up from the inside as I pant.
“This is how our little moment together will work,” he says, stroking the rod. “You answer our questions, or I beat you senseless. Got it?”
A small whimper leaves me from the pain, but if he thinks I’ll crack under torture, he’s wrong. I can handle pain.
“I don’t think he’s going to cave, J,” Boston offers not so helpfully, causing Joseph to hum thoughtfully.
“Let’s find out, shall we?”
As I come to, I’m in such excruciating pain that all I can do is moan. I’m not certain when I passed out, but between that metal rod and Boston’s bare fists, I’m feeling a lot like death.
I guess that’s why it takes me a moment to realize I’m being manhandled. Well, shaken is probably more accurate.
Slowly, I manage to lift my eyelids, and Nate comes into focus. He’s standing over me, holding the cloth that was undoubtedly shoved back into my mouth as I blink up at him.
“Am I… am I dreaming?” I mumble, trying to sit straighter and causing my back to protest angrily.
“You’re not dreaming,” Nate says, and the sound of his voice rouses me fully. “We need to go.”
“Nate,” I breathe out, panic suddenly overcoming me. “You have to be careful. These people, they want our gifts. You can’t let them find you; if they do—”
“Shh,” he coos, reaching around me to untie my wrists before moving to my ankles. “You’re alright. We just need to run.”
Nate looks paranoid, peeking around the empty warehouse as he slips the binds from my feet.
“Fuck,” I groan, the feeling of fire licking through my entire body causing me to stumble as he helps me stand.
“I know, little Lanny. But we’ll get you out of here. Did they… did they give you anything? Can you use coercion?”
I nod, then shake my head, then nod again before settling on, “They gave me some blue shit, but I think it’s gone now. I can feel the simmer in my chest again.”
“Show me,” he commands, sounding almost panicked as his eyes search mine.
And I’ve missed him so much. I’ve missed the push and pull, his now half-hearted glares, and the way he calms me so easily. Which is probably why my next sentence isn’t very hostage approved.
“Kiss me,” I whisper, shoving the simmer up my throat, and it takes him no time at all to lean down and take my lips with his.
It’s a fleeting kiss, one in which he just barely shoves his tongue against mine before he pulls away.
“Good,” he pants out. “That’s really good. Come on, we need to—”
“Nate, no,” I interrupt. “These guys are bad news. You have to listen to me.”
I have to warn him. I need him to understand the dangers we’re facing, or else everything will crumble around us.
Nate groans in irritation, sending me a pointed look. “I know. But if we don’t leave before they get back—”
“Before who gets back?” a familiar voice rings out. Joseph.
The sound of a gun cocking has both Nate and me freezing on the spot, peeking around the warehouse with wide eyes.
“Listen,” Nate murmurs, his eyes violent and aware as they flicker around us. “We need to use our gifts and—”
“Enough, Nathaniel.” Cecilia steps out from behind a shelf a few feet away, Joseph, Boston, and the last suit I don’t know the name of following behind her.
That man is holding the gun, pointing it right at me as my body begins to tremble. “Drink this, and I won’t shoot you. Yet.”
“Ryan,” Nate growls, his hand around my waist tightening. “Don’t you dare.”
But Cecilia is holding out another vial of that blue liquid, coaxing me. And I really, really don’t want to be shot, so I take it nimbly. It’ll be okay; Nate can use his gift to free us.
The familiar feeling of the inflating balloon overcomes me, my vision briefly slurring, and I slouch against Nate.
“Ugh,” I groan. “That shit sucks.”
“Now, Repressor Nathaniel, tie him back to the chair. Listen well, and we won’t repress you,” Joseph purrs.
I almost start laughing. I would, if I could manage it. There is no way Nate will tie me back to that chair, let alone follow this lie of him working for—
A startled sound leaves me as Nate shoves me back onto the metal fold-out, his fingers working quickly as he locks my ankles and wrists once more.
“N-Nate?” I stutter, watching him with wide, concerned eyes.
“Good job,” Joseph praises. “Now, here’s what will happen: we need to find the whereabouts of Benji Presley, and you will get those answers from him. He seems quite fond of you, Nathaniel, so he should listen.”
Nate is still staring at me, his expression devoid of emotion as he takes in what Joseph is telling him.
My palms begin to sweat, my heart thumping wildly. What is happening? Is Nate actually… does he truly work for them?
“Tell them, Nate,” I murmur, drilling my eyes into his. “Tell them you won’t do it. That you are fond of me, too.”
I know I’m admitting to having greater feelings than we originally shared. I know I’m making myself vulnerable. But he has to remember that hotel room. He has to like me just as much as I like him. Right?
Another moment of silence stretches between us before finally, Nate says, “Just info on his uncle? I can do that.”
“W-what?! Nate, tell them!” My words are desperate, and without the use of coercion, I can’t make him do anything.
I was running on pure faith and belief.
“Tell them what?” he hisses. “That I fucked you until you trusted me? That I delivered what they asked for?”
Joseph lets out a loud laugh at my look of horror.
“Brilliant, Repressor Nathaniel! Honestly, Landon, you should feel honored.” The man takes a step toward me, giving me a bright smile. “This man is a legend. Did you know that he took out his entire family? Repressed them all and took their power of illusion? He’s very dedicated to our cause.”
Their cause? What exactly is this organization, and what do they want with me?!
“I can see your confusion,” Joseph says, offering me a sympathetic look.
“Here at EP, we hunt down the most vile of power abusers and repress their gifts, keeping them from harming the general public. It’s our job as civil servants to do this much.
And Nathaniel? He’s the angriest of us all. He hates those who abuse their power.”
It all makes sense. I’m not an idiot, even if Nate thinks I am. He has been warning me about how I use my gift for months now, all while keeping tabs on me and reporting back to them.
“But I don’t hurt others,” I counter defensively, sending Nate a piercing glare. “I never have.”
“That’s not what Nathaniel has said,” Boston interjects. “He has said you’re manipulative and evil.”
You’re taking away a person’s free will, he had once said.
But I never intended to hurt anyone; I just wanted my tea made properly!
“Get the information,” Joseph pushes, and Nate nods his head.
“Yes, sir.” With one intentional step, Nate is standing before me.
“Don’t do this,” I plead, but it’s quiet and broken; something intimate between us.
Nathaniel Barfred is the only man I’ve ever begged.
“Landon Presley,” he says, tone bored and expression detached. “Where is Benji?”
“No,” I demand. “No. You will not do this to me. You will not make me feel for you and then betray me. I won’t… I won’t accept it.”
“I don’t care what you accept,” Nate shoots back easily. “You mean nothing to me, and you will give me the answer or die.”
In a single, smooth movement, Nate snatches the gun from Ryan’s hands and presses the muzzle to my forehead.
Joseph lets loose a startled laugh.
“N-Nate,” I gasp out, my eyes widening as they search his. And in those honey, cat-like eyes, I see no scheming. No secrets or affection. Just hate.
“I will ask once more,” he says gently. “Where is Benji Presley?”
“How could you do this?” I’m panting now, just barely holding onto the emotion building inside of me. “You taught me to care for you; to trust you and run in your direction when I’m crumbling. Was that a part of your plan? Has every moment we spent together been building to this?”
Boston whistles lowly from somewhere in the distance. “I think this man was in love, Nathaniel. How touching.”
Nate doesn’t even flinch. He keeps his gaze locked onto mine and re-cocks the gun.
A pitiful whimper leaves me. I yank at the rope around my wrists, try to pull my gift from the depths of my stomach where they’ve banished it, but it’s a fruitless struggle.
I am completely at his mercy. Nate is going to break me.
“Kill me,” I insist, “because I will not give you anything. Fucking shoot, Nathaniel. I’m tired of breathing, anyway.”
And for the first time since he sat me in this chair, I see a flicker of emotion in his eyes. Anger.
“As you wish, sweet Lanny. As you wish.”
And suddenly, I’m plunged into the darkness.