Chapter Two
Lia
“She’s only seventeen! They both are!” Mom’s voice roars from the kitchen.
In the bathroom, Leo dabs at my eyebrow with a cotton ball while I sit on the toilet.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry,” he mutters, cleaning the cut with disinfectant. “I don’t want this getting infected.”
“I hate when they fight like this,” I say, catching his reflection in the mirror.
When we got home from school, Joaquin was already here—fuming and throwing items off the kitchen island. Glassware. Papers. Shouting. Curses. Leo ushered us upstairs, keeping us out of his sight. We waited in the loft for what felt like hours before the coast was clear.
Leo went back to his room, but I snuck downstairs, needing to satisfy my growling stomach. I tiptoed into the kitchen, staying as quiet as possible. One box of cheese crackers for me. One box of chocolate graham crackers for Leo.
“I didn’t hear you come home from school. Where’s Leo?”
Joaquin’s enraged voice startled me. The box of graham crackers slipped from my hands and hit the floor.
“He’s upstairs.”
He stomped toward me and smacked the crackers out of my reach. Tiny yellow pieces scattered across the floor. My hands trembled, like they always do when he gets too close.
My head slammed against the pantry door. Tears pricked at my eyes, and my lower lip wobbled, but I refused to cry in front of him.
“Maybe that’ll teach you some fucking manners. Say hello to your father when you come home next time. Tell Leo he’s next.”
“No!”
He twirled around, palm midair, ready to backhand me again, but Mom’s shout saved the day.
“Joaquin!” she shouted, her eyes locking onto mine, silently telling me to run while I still could.
“Hey,” Leo says, snapping me back to the present. “Stay away from Joaquin when he’s home.”
“I was hungry.”
He grips the sink. “We’ll bring our snacks up here. It’s not worth the risk. He slammed your face against a door, Lia. What’s next? A knife? He could kill us.”
“He can’t keep hurting us like this. I’m tired, Leo.”
He sighs. “I’m tired too. And his abuse is escalating. The best we can do is avoid him. We just have to make it until we graduate. Then we’re off to college and away from here.”
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Groaning, I slam my hand against the old clock on the side table. Light streams through the curtains, reminding me I’m in a strange bed, in a strange place.
By the time I made it to my room and fell asleep, it was close to six a.m. Carter had shown us around and told us to make ourselves at home.
Doubtful. I’ve never known what home is supposed to feel like.
I rub my fists over my eyes in an attempt to shake off the exhaustion. My fingers and toes stretch, protesting the coming day. The clock reads nine, and I was told to check in shortly after.
Carter parked Leo’s truck in their garage. Leo brought in my belongings—everything that fits in the small backpack resting beside the bed.
Slinging the bag onto my shoulder, I retrieve my shower essentials. The bathroom is stocked with mini toiletries.
I turn the faucet to cold, welcoming the brutal shock that replaces the drowsiness. Even the biting water can’t wash away the doubt.
Did Leo and I sign our own death warrants by trusting strangers?
My stomach clenches at the thought and lets out a low rumble. Leaping out of the shower, I stumble to the toilet and lift the lid.
Nothing comes up.
Once the queasiness fades, I push off the floor, brush my teeth, and meet my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are sunken, my skin pale.
Maybe the stress from the past month is catching up to me.
Whatever today holds, I need my chemical shield. My hand reaches for the familiar white bottle, and I swallow two capsules.
I believed the meds and therapy sessions were working—that the constant terror had retreated. I wasn’t relying on the pills anymore. I stayed away from home, spent more time at work or on campus with Leo.
Ever since Mom died, the panic button has been stuck.
My breath comes in short, shallow pulls as I force myself toward the door.
I’ve survived worse.
I dig through my backpack until I find the only semi-clean outfit left—a black tank top and leggings.
Once dressed, I crack open the door and check the hallway. Rows of closed doors line the corridor. The carpet and wallpaper are worn, patterned decades out of style.
Quiet footsteps carry me around the corner, where Leo and Carter are deep in conversation near a makeshift common area with worn kitchen appliances. They sit in old, ‘90s-style rolling chairs—upholstered in threadbare fabric with squeaky wheels—around a round wooden table that’s seen better days.
Leo notices me, and their conversation cuts off. His lips flatten into a thin line, like they were discussing something I wasn’t meant to hear.
Eyes narrowing, I silently demand answers.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Leo says casually.
“What’s going on in here?” I ask.
“We’re planning what our training will look like for the next week,” Leo replies. “We’ll start today. The sooner we learn, the better. Carter said they spotted two hunters snooping around a neighboring beach yesterday.”
“We’re protected here, but if our cover’s blown, we’ll need to head north. It’s best to prepare in advance,” Carter adds.
“Our training?” My brow lifts as I look at Leo. “Did I hear that correctly?”
“Kylo will conduct your training, and I’ll be with Leo,” Carter says easily, like he didn’t drop a bomb on my morning.
Kylo?
My stomach sinks.
“I’m not training with him.”
He’s the definition of tall, dark, and asshole.
Out of everyone here, he’s the last person I’d want to train with.
Leo knows how uneasy I am around men.
There are reasons for that.
Reasons kept buried.
Swallowing the capsules is the only way I get through this. The chemical calm allows me to function, but every dose is a reminder that the relief comes from a bottle, not me.
“Kylo is a remarkably skilled telepath. He’s one of the best warriors we have,” Carter says.
“Warriors?” I repeat flatly.
“Yes,” Leo confirms, gesturing around the room. “He trains people with abilities—soldiers, warriors, whatever you want to call them—to defend themselves and kill the Aether Hunters.”
“If you’re staying here, training is mandatory,” Carter adds. “We’re preparing for war.”
War. Joaquin’s damage reaches far beyond our family. I hadn’t realized how many others have suffered because of him.
“What’s the point? I don’t have any abilities. I’m useless.”
“Learning self-defense has nothing to do with abilities,” Carter says. “It’s a valuable skill. Who’s going to protect you when Leo isn’t there?”
A protest catches in my throat.
What use is hand-to-hand combat against an Aether Hunter who can crush your thoughts?
I’m too weary to start a fight. My stomach clenches again. A sudden, jarring reminder that I’m still off-balance, still unwell.
Leo notices. “You don’t look great. Have you been eating?”
“I’m hungry.”
Carter rises and walks to the stove where eggs, sausage, and hashbrowns are hot. “Sit down.”
I settle into the chair beside Leo, watching as Carter brings over a paper plate piled with food and sets it in front of me, followed by a glass of orange juice.
“Eat up,” he says. “Protein and carbs will fuel your training.”
“Thank you.”
He’s handsome—lean and athletic, built with the same strong frame as Kylo, but without the edge that makes my shoulders tense.
Where Kylo’s dark waves give him a rugged intensity, Carter’s dirty blond hair is shorter, neater.
His chiseled jaw is dusted with golden scruff, and when he shifts, the muscles beneath his fitted black shirt flex just enough to remind me he isn’t harmless.
His eyes are kind.
A warm caramel with a flicker of green, like honey glazed over forest moss.
Leo clears his throat. I shove food into my mouth and groan. The taste is savory, rich. It’s been weeks since I’ve had a decent meal. Leo and I have been surviving on vending machine snacks and gas station junk.
As I eat like a starved animal, both men watch me closely.
Carter rubs his jaw. “We need to put some meat on both of you.”
The comment could pass for rude, but it isn’t inaccurate. Leo and I haven’t had steady access to food in over a month.
Leo tenses. “We’ve had a rough few weeks.”
“This is amazing. Thank you,” I say.
Carter nods. “You can thank me by agreeing to train.”
“Lia understands the basics,” Leo says. “She’s only been training with me for a month. She still has a lot to learn.”
“Gee. Thanks,” I mumble between bites.
“Give us a few weeks,” Carter says with the kind of confidence you need years to earn. “Like I said, we produce warriors.”
“Even so,” I say, taking a sip of orange juice. “Me going up against a telepath is a death sentence, no matter how much you train me.”
“Incorrect,” Carter counters. “I’ve seen people without abilities take down telepaths.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“You won’t get anywhere with that attitude,” Leo chimes in.
“I’m sorry, I thought we were running from the Aether Hunters, not training to become elite soldiers? This was not in the cards for me.”
Leo sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “No, Lia. It wasn’t.”
I slide the plate away. “When do I start training?”
“Right now,” a velvety voice cuts in.
Kylo stands in the doorway, feet planted shoulder-width apart, arms crossed.
He looks at me like I’m some unwanted pest invading his space. “That’s what you’re wearing to train?”
I glare at him. It’s all I have.
“We have training gear for you,” Carter offers. He walks to a nearby cabinet and swings it open. I peek inside and spot piles of black clothing stuffed onto the shelves. After rummaging, he grabs an armful and sets it down on the table.
“Small, right?”
“Um… yes. This should fit.” My fingers brush over the athletic, breathable fabric.
“There’s a locker room connected to our training room,” Carter says, pointing down the hall.
“Are you coming too?” I ask Leo.
“I’m with Carter today.”
Kylo’s eyes harden on me. Unease crawls over my skin as I clutch the clothes tighter in my hands.
Training with other people around? That’s fine.