30. Freya
FREYA
A listair watches me from the laptop screen set on my bed as I pace back and forth, twirling the new knife River got me in my hand. It’s engraved with all of our names and is one of the many gifts he’s left for me to find over the past few days.
He’s doing a lot of things to make amends with me, including deactivating the locking mechanism on my bedroom door so I could close it and have some privacy for my session with Alistair.
I must have checked I could open it a hundred times and I’m starting to think I should have taken River up on his offer to have the appointment in his bedroom because just being in here is making me edgy.
It’s been two days since River and I made up and, despite the gifts, I’m already angry with him again. Except this time it’s because he’s being too kind. Too gentle. He’s treating me with kid gloves and it’s pissing me the fuck off.
I draw to a stop and look down at the computer. “Do you know what I hate?”
Alistair steeples his fingers together.
“I hate that I’m so freaking angry all of the time.”
“Freya, you have a lot of trauma?—”
I cut off his smooth, calm voice. “I’ve always had a lot of trauma, but I was dealing. I was fine.”
Alistair takes off his glasses. “And you’ve only recently uncovered old memories. Memories of someone violating you.”
My skin crawls but Alistair’s gaze is thoughtful, steady. “I’d be worried if you weren’t angry.” He pauses then adds, “I’d be worried if you weren’t scared .”
The adrenaline that had me pacing drains out of me and I put down the knife before sinking to the floor.
I move the laptop so Alistair’s on the carpet and I’m leaning against the bed frame, my arms resting on my knees.
“She’s so young,” I whisper. “The girl he’s taken.
Harley.” I roll my tongue over her name.
“That sounds like the name of a fighter, don’t you think? ”
Alistair stays quiet.
“I need her to be a fighter,” I mutter under my breath, picking at a loose string on the pocket of my cargo pants.
“You’re scared for her,” Alistair says.
I nod, my braid brushing against my shoulder.
“I’m scared and I’m fucking furious. At Zach for breaking our deal and taking her.
At myself for fucking believing he would just sit back and not hurt anyone else.
” I twist my lips and shake my head. “I understand why I’m angry,” I tell Alistair.
“But I keep getting angry at the wrong people.” I can’t be wasting energy fighting the guys when we should be focusing on finding Harley.
Alistair puts his glasses back on and says, “And what do you think might help with that?”
The bed frame digs into my back as I slump into it. “It would help if everyone stopped treating me like something was wrong. Jude and Oz are hovering. River keeps holding back, worried he might break me. Eli’s the only one who isn’t acting like I’m damaged.”
“Have you told them that?”
“I keep telling Jude and Oz I’m fine. Jude’s been shot for christ sake, but he’s rubbish at letting anyone take care of him.”
Alistair’s right brow peaks and I roll my eyes.
“Yeah, alright, I get the irony.”
He suppresses a smile. “What about River?”
I sigh. “I thought we were good. I thought everything would go back to being normal but it’s like now he knows he can hurt me he thinks he needs to be gentle all the time.”
“And you don’t want that?” There’s no judgement in the question.
“No. I want him to take the lead again.” I want him to be the controlling, dominating bastard he is. It’s what he needs. It’s what I need.
Alistair’s pen taps his chin. “Well maybe, if talking isn’t working, you need to find a way to show him.”
I think about that for a moment.
I think about it again after my session with Alistair when River flat out denies my request to take Allie to see our mother.
According to him it’s not safe because it’s the first place Zach would expect me to go.
Never mind the fact that Hannah might have more information that could help us find him.
Or that Allie has been asking nonstop about our mother.
No matter how messed up she is, she deserves to see that our mother is alive with her own two eyes.
River doesn’t even give me a chance to argue with him though, heading out of the house and leaving me standing at the island with Oz, Jude, and Eli.
Eli nudges my shoulder with his. “Come on, let’s go to The Lair. River organized for a couple of junior agents to watch the house so Allie can stay here.”
Still feeling pissed off, I agree.
It’s not till we’re in the foyer of the SCU offices and I see a familiar head of dark brown hair slip into the elevator that my mood peaks. Jack.
I’d only met him once briefly when he came to take my mother to a safehouse after Eli shot Maxwell. River described him as ‘FBI adjacent’ so I wasn’t expecting to find him here, but it’s definitely him.
He swipes a card and presses a button at the bottom of the panel but he’s too far away for me to see which level he’s going to.
I have to wait another hour before I’m able to slip away from the Lair leaving Oz, Jude, and Eli with the excuse of a coffee run.
I’m not sure this is what Alistair had in mind when he said to show River what I need, but River is stubborn to the n th degree. I have a feeling the only way I’m going to get him to stop walking on eggshells around me is if I push him hard enough that he stomps all over them.
I go to the ground floor and find the same elevator Jack used. Jude is going to pout when he realizes I swiped his ID but when I press the button for the subbasement the control panel flashes ready to scan my biometrics. Shit.
I’m still staring at the panel when someone slips between the closing doors and peers over my shoulder.
I jolt at his proximity and look back to find a Latino man peeling a pear with a razor-sharp knife as he stares past me to the elevator panel. He flicks his hand, and an ID card appears between his fingers. “Try this one.”
I have absolutely no reason to trust this man and the slightly insane looking smile on his face suggests I really shouldn’t, but I find myself taking the ID card and swiping it.
The guy leans over to scan his face and the elevator hums as it begins to move. I hand the card back to the man and turn to face him, my gaze narrowing on the knife he’s using. “Shouldn’t that be an apple?” I ask, nodding to the pear.
“Why would it be an apple?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, that’s just what you always see when some psycho is using a knife to peel fruit.”
His long black hair brushes his cheekbone as he tilts his head. “I’ve been told it’s customary to share names before medical diagnoses but if you want to start there, sociopath is probably more accurate.”
My mouth parts. Well, okay then. “Who are you?”
He bites a bit of peel off the knife and grins. “Reaper. And you, are Freya.”
I stiffen.
His eyes twinkle. “Your reputation precedes you.”
“You know Jack,” I state.
Reaper gives a dramatic sigh. “Tragically, yes.”
“I need to talk to him.”
The elevator doors open after we come to a stop and Reaper flourishes his arm in a bow. “The concrete floor is yours, senorita.”
After one last, wary look at Reaper I step out into the sub-basement. The space reminds me of an FBI black site from one of the shows Jude got me binge-watching. It’s all metal and gray and, aside from Jack and now Reaper and I, empty.
Jack glances up from his computer a few meters away, a serious, somewhat threatening gaze set on his angular face.
“I brought you a gift,” Reaper announces as he strides past and hops up to sit on one of the empty desks.
“I need a favor,” I say to Jack.
Reaper sits up straight, excitement playing across his face. “Will it piss River off?”
“Yes.”
“I’m game.”
Jack stands up and crosses his arms. “I, on the other hand, am going to need a better reason than that.”
I tilt my head, analyzing him for a moment before going for honesty. “She’s my mother, Jack.” I don’t know Jack’s history, don’t know whether he’ll give two shits that she’s my mother. But it’s the only angle I have.
He watches me and I concentrate on the feeling of my boots on the ground to stop from squirming under the intensity of his gaze.
Finally, he dips his head. “Let’s go.”
“We, uh, need to make a stop first,” I say as he picks up his jacket.
Jack cuts me a look but Reaper just laughs, waving goodbye as we walk to the elevator. “You two kids have fun now!”
Fun, right. Somehow, I don’t think I’ll be having much fun when River finds out where I’ve gone. But then why does a thrill run through me at the thought?