Landon
Epilogue
I’M PACING. I WALK from one end of Atlas’s bed to the other, my hands clasped firmly to my hips as I frown.
“You’re not making any sense, Lan,” Julian says softly from where he’s lying out over the foot of the mattress, his eyes tracking my every movement.
“Ugh, I can’t explain everything. Just… he’s being weird!” I’m panicking; that much is obvious.
“Hasn’t it already been a year since you moved here?” Atlas asks. “Maybe the honeymoon phase is over; that’s all.”
But he’s wrong. Nate and I never had a honeymoon phase. From the very beginning, we have been at each other’s throats and causing issues. It’s how we work—how we operate.
And yet, lately… Nate has been different. Well, actually, for the past six months he’s been different.
I know he wants to remove himself fully from EP, that disgusting organization that claimed they were taking out bad guys and not torturing innocent men like me. But does it actually take six months to quit?
Does removing himself from their databases require that he fly to California more than I do to see my family? I don’t think so.
Between his flights and his newly distant, withdrawn personality, I feel like I don’t know him. That I’m now sharing a bed with a stranger. Well, when I get to share a bed with him, and he’s not in another state staying at a hotel.
And the worst part? I can’t even coerce him. A part of me is screaming, demanding I question him as he’s hurt me before. But what good is questioning someone when they can easily lie?
Aren’t these all signs of cheating? What happened to choosing me, to shouldering my burdens? I haven’t felt this alone in a while, and it’s suffocating me.
But I also can’t give my friends an explanation worth anything, as no one knows about Nate and me. They don’t know about our gifts.
“I think he’s cheating,” I offer, my voice quiet as I finally stop pacing.
“What?!” Julian screeches. “It’s not possible. I saw that man’s face when I set you two back up. He’s definitely in love with you.”
“Then how do you explain his disappearing act? Why are all of our conversations one-sided?”
Atlas gives me a sympathetic look, but it’s Atticus who speaks next.
He’s standing by the far window, his arms crossed over his chest. “Have you asked him about all of this? There might be an explanation you’re not seeing.”
They really don’t understand. How could any average person know that hoping for honesty when you’re used to demanding it is more terrifying than being back in that dingy warehouse?
“Communication is very important,” Cameron adds gently, his head resting against Atlas’s shoulder as he gives me a knowing look.
Communication? Nate and I? Right—like that is going to happen.
“I don’t know,” I sigh. “I just want him to come home. I want things to feel how they did when I first moved here. I’m tired of waking up alone.”
Or in the middle of the night, my skin slick with sweat and my heart thundering loud enough to remind me that no one is around to show me the stars.
“Want me to ask him?” Julian suggests. “Maybe his libido is failing, and he’s too embarrassed to tell you or something.”
“His libido is definitely not the issue,” I counter, and Cameron scrunches his nose as Atlas giggles, burying his face into Cameron’s hair. “Plus, you asking him will probably just piss him off.”
Actually, almost everyone pisses Nate off. Even me.
Is that… is that what this is? Has he come to his senses and realized that he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life in a perpetual fight? I may crave it, but… maybe Nate doesn’t.
“Maybe I should just go home,” I grumble, my hands falling loosely at my sides as defeat takes hold of me.
The darkness is swarming again, something I’ve become reacquainted with in the past six months.
“What?!” Atlas shrieks. “No! We love having you here, Lan. You can’t just leave.”
“But if I have nothing here for me, I might as well—”
Atlas’s bedroom door swings open, slamming loudly into the wall as Nate stands in the threshold.
He looks… horrible—with sweaty, disheveled hair, pale skin, and his chest heaving like he’s run across stateliness.
“You’re back?” I ask, my voice portraying all of the shock and fear I have swirling inside of me. “What happened?”
“We need to talk.” The words are simple, if a little panicky, but it’s Nate saying them.
This is the worst day of my life. I have been waiting for the other shoe to drop since he was coerced into telling me he loves me, and now it’s here. He’s done.
“Okay,” I whisper, my entire body deflating, as if it’s readying itself to later lock up for a fight.
All four of the guys are staring at me with wide, concerned eyes as I grab my shoes, slipping them back on.
“What was happening here?” Nate asks, still panting lightly as his confused, honey eyes look around the room.
“Boys’ night,” Julian lies.
It was not a boys’ night. I came over at 9 p.m. without a single invitation, demanding that someone talk to me. Luckily for me, I’ve grown quite close to this little group, and I wasn’t left out to dry.
“See you guys,” I murmur, following Nate onto the steep staircase as a chorus of goodbyes follows us.
Once we’re outside, I speak again. “Why did you come home early?”
“Not happy to see me?” Nate teases, but it’s lacking his normal ferocity. He sounds tired.
“I am.”
“Take your car home. I’ll follow you,” he insists.
It’s only a ten-minute drive, but as I watch the headlight of his bike in the rearview mirror, it feels like an eternity. This may very well be the last time Nate tells me to go home.
At least, not in reference to a home that belongs to us both.
By the time we reach the cottage, I’m trembling. So many different scenarios are turning in my mind, and I’m almost certain it’s the worst one. Nate is done with me, or he’s already found my replacement.
I drag my ass inside anyway, slowly making my way into our bedroom, where I hang my coat and sit on the edge of the bed nervously.
Nate takes his time following me, digging through his backpack in the living room for what feels like hours. But then, finally, he comes strutting in, giving me a pointed look.
“What’s going on?” I ask him, my fingers gripping anxiously at the jeans covering my thighs. “Is everything alright?”
Nate stares back at me. His expression is unreadable, and no amount of affection is oozing from his body. His hands are shoved into his pockets, his shoulders squared, and all of his muscles tensed.
“You’re scaring me,” I admit, my voice low and hesitant as I peer up at him. “Did I… did I do something wrong?”
Finally, I get a flash of emotion from him. Confusion.
“Huh? No, not this time. I… I’ve been sorting some things out,” he explains.
Sorting some things out. I do not like the sound of that.
“And?” I press, covering my own vulnerability with annoyance.
If he’s going to break me again, I refuse to show him how bad it hurts.
“I think I found a way,” he whispers. It’s so silent, so uncertain, that it throws me off guard.
What?
I stand, taking a step toward him. “You’re not making sense.”
Nate sighs, running a hand through his hair before he suddenly reaches out and grabs my arms. “Do you want it back?”
“Want what back, Nate?”
“Coercion. Do you want it back?”
Everything just… stops. My hands begin to tremble, my eyes widening as I stare into Nate’s.
He can’t be serious, right? The chip that was inserted into my neck dissolved, infecting my bloodstream and repressing coercion forever. There is no cure.
“You’re a prick,” I hiss, shoving at his chest roughly. “I can’t believe you’d fuck with me about this.”
But Nate is stronger, that asshole, and he only holds me tighter, shaking his head. “No, listen. I’ve been visiting Calum at EP’s headquarters in California.”
“To prevent being used as a repressor again, I know.”
“No,” Nate insists, his expression shifting into one of annoyance. “I was cleared from their database right after you moved in with me.”
I fucking knew he was lying! I may not have coercion, but I’m smart. I know how Nate presents himself when he’s lying, and he’s been doing it for months.
But despite calling it, I still murmur a disbelieving, “What?”
“Just listen,” he grits out, shoving me back until my ass hits the mattress before dropping to settle between my legs. “I have been seeing Calum, trying to find a way to help you. To give you back your gift.”
“Oh, my god.” It leaves me with a hushed sound of misery. I’ve been battling the absence of my power for a while now, but even the mere thought of getting it back? I want to sob.
I continue to speak, my hands raising to grip his shoulders. “But it’s not possible. The chip dissolved inside of me, and I can’t get it out.”
Sometimes, I stand before the bathroom mirror and stare at the tiny scar I was given when they injected me. I prod at the spot until it becomes tender, trying and failing to find that little chip and yank it free.
Nate’s hands are shaking as he reaches into his front pocket, pulling out a vial of murky white liquid.
“This… this might be the answer,” he breathes out. “They found it in Joseph’s old office a few months ago. Unfortunately, though we’ve been searching, we haven’t been able to find a test subject to trial it.”
“How do you even know it’s a cure?” I shoot back, and though he hasn’t said cure, I assume that’s what he believes it is.
“We saw some of the paperwork pertaining to it. It’s supposed to extract the particles of the chip that dissolved inside of you.”
It sounds too good to be true. In fact, it sounds like a lie. If EP worked so hard on repressing others’ powers, why would they create a cure?
“I think they were holding on to it, in case one of them ever got repressed,” Nate explains, seamlessly reading my mind just as he always does.
“Nate, this is dangerous.” I’m searching his eyes, attempting to find answers in them. For him to understand me.
“I know it hasn’t been tested, but we can—”
“No. I mean, this is dangerous for my mental health.” As the words leave me, Nate’s eyes widen, and he falls back on his heels. “I mean, giving me this hope? What does it mean for me when it fails? How am I meant to cope with losing coercion once, then feeling as if I’ve lost it again?”
His arms are around me a moment later, shoving my face into his neck as he breathes in the scent of me and drags his fingers over my back.
“You know I’ll always put you back together again,” he murmurs into my hair. “And I’m sorry you’ve been without me lately; I just really wanted to make you feel whole again. To fix this.”
I know Nate believes I’ll never fully forgive him. And there might be a small part of me that never does—but being whole? I’m fine being just a bit empty as long as I’m with him.
So I tell him that.
“I’d rather you be here with me than off trying to save me alone.”
Nate stiffens, his fingers digging into my back as he leans back enough to read my expression. “So you don’t want to try?”
I snatch the vial from his hands. “I didn’t say that. I’m just telling you not to run off again, even if it is for me.”
He smirks, moving his hands to pinch at my thighs. “You’re a brat.”
“You love me,” I shoot back, popping the lid off the vial.
As soon as the sound reaches his ears, Nate is all business again, looking at me with so much concern I almost miss the fear.
“It could fail,” he warns. “Or… it could hurt you. I’m not sure how your body will react to having the particles removed. I’m leaving this decision up to you.”
“I know,” I reply softly.
“I just… I wanted you to see that I’d do anything within my power to fix this. To help you.”
It’s so sweet, so genuine, that it unsettles me. Nate is not a romantic man, and hearing his reassurance after being bombarded with his absence is kind of giving me whiplash.
So I down the vial. It’s now or never, and if I dwell on the intensity in his eyes, I’ll end up naked and covered in come before the bottle reaches my lips.
The liquid is cold, despite being in Nate’s pocket this whole time. It stings like liquor on the way down, causing my entire body to break out in goosebumps.
But as I close the cap and set the glass tube on the bed next to me, it feels like we’re waiting for nothing. Like this is an elaborate prank, and I’m the loser who believed it was genuine.
“Nate, nothing is—Fuck!”
Agony—it’s like a pain I’ve never felt before. In comparison, the steel rod Joseph rained down on me felt like a relaxing Sunday afternoon.
My entire body seizes, my blood suddenly heating to the point of combustion. It feels as if a million of those injector guns are going off at once, all over the expanse of my body as I sob, clenching my eyes shut against the pain.
This feels… this feels like dying.
I’m going to die.