Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
Emilia
The sun is setting when I pull the front door shut and twist the key. Stepping into the street, I turn, heart jumping at the sight of Heidi and Sam right behind me.
“Oh, hey,” I manage, heart racing. I lift my hand to my chest. “You scared me.”
“Sorry,” Heidi says, tilting her head and grinning. “We just wanted to catch you before you disappeared.”
“Are you okay?” Sam asks, hand resting on the small of Heidi’s back. “We haven’t seen you much this past week.”
“I’m fine,” I say with a smile. “I’ve been spending a lot of time with Claudia and Jordan. They’ve got me… running and doing all sorts of pushups. Sit-ups, planking. It’s excruciating.” I lace my excuse with a partial truth. It’s Bridget who’s been busting my ass trying to bully me into fitness.
Sam’s brow furrows, disbelief lining his features.
“Exercise releases endorphins,” I say quickly. “They think it’s helping me.”
“And is it?” Heidi asks.
“I… Yeah,” I choose to say.
Sam’s still frowning, unconvinced, but a smile spreads across her face. “Good,” she says softly. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” I say, reaching out and hauling her towards me before wrapping my arms around her. “I said I’d go for a run with Jordan this evening, but should I come over tomorrow?”
“You’re going for a run dressed like that?” Sam asks, tone impatient. I pull back from Heidi, both of their eyes trailing over my low cut, dark green corset top and black jeans.
“Sam!” Heidi smacks his chest. “Mils doesn’t have many… options.”
“Jordan’s already got my… change of clothes.”
“He does?”
I nod quickly. “I’m borrowing Claudia’s.”
“Claudia’s?” She’s a different shape, slight and slim. Tall. Her tits are half the size of mine. The only thing we have in common is foot size, but I’m already down the damn rabbit hole, and there’s no way I’m backing out.
“Yeah,” I say, nodding my head. “She’s got this super baggy hoodie that fits me just right. And… trainers. For my feet.” He tilts his head, eyes drilling into mine. Not fooled in the slightest. I wrench my gaze to Heidi. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Looking forward to it,” she says with a smile.
“Bye, Sam.” I give my friend a small wave before stepping away. He’s always known when I’m lying. He knows my tell, when even I don’t. Not that I’ve just given an Oscar worthy performance.
Guilt for lying to the two closest people in my life weighs heavily on my chest, each gruelling step away from them feeling like a betrayal. But just like Zac did with me, I need to keep them clear of this. As far away as possible from the dangerous game I’ve stumbled into.
I’ve spent almost every free minute of the past two weeks at the Safe House, much to Anna’s disgust. Jordan and Claudia have taken turns explaining the brutal conditions at Killmoor in more detail, each description painting pictures I wish I could scrub from my mind.
More than once, I’ve found myself sprinting for the toilet, puking my guts up as images of Zac and Kayla lying on the cold floor, beaten and bloodied, refused to fade.
Questioning them about their plans to take down the State has been pointless. There’s no grand plan, no secret battle in the works. Not yet, anyway.
After two days of relentless begging, they’d finally let me into the basement.
It was bigger than I expected, but the sheer amount of weapons and ammunition crammed at one end made it feel smaller.
Curious, I’d instantly picked up a gun, and the room erupted in panic.
Bridget snatched it from my hand and spent the rest of the day educating me on how to use one in their haphazardly sectioned off shooting range. Safety first.
Kieran found me the following night at the opposite end, fists flying clumsily at the punching bag.
My stance must have looked ridiculous, because he burst out laughing.
I shot him a glare, and he raised his hands in mock surrender before offering to help.
He says I’m getting better with every day that passes.
And Jordan’s stepped into Zac’s role with far greater patience than his predecessor. He made me show him everything Zac taught me, correcting me as I did so. Then he showed me more. Faster moves, other ways to dodge an attack, smarter ways to escape. Every aching muscle feels like progress.
And only two evenings ago, whilst trying to master a certain move, I was distracted by Bridget, over by the weapons.
She stood fifteen feet in front of a black target-painted wall, lifting a hand and throwing.
The knives slipped from her grip with ease, one after the other, a dance of synchronicity before the blades sank into the centre of the target.
The thud echoed through the room, and something inside of me snapped into place.
A desire, a need, a desperation to learn that.
And then Jordan swiped my legs from under me, and I crashed onto the mat.
When I’m trying to catch my breath from all of their training sessions, Claudia shows me copies of blueprints of State buildings and checkpoints that they’ve managed to steal—nothing much, but enough to make my stomach knot with fascination, and hope.
Bridget and I run every morning before work, and I really do borrow Claudia’s trainers. She pushes me harder and further each day, shouting over my spluttering breaths to go faster. My chest always feels like it’s going to burst, lungs burning, but I don’t stop.
I can’t.
I’m part of this now, and I’ll do everything they need me to—anything to prove my place here.
Then, this morning, Claudia gestured for me to follow her. We climbed the spiral staircase, and in the narrow corridor that I’ve only ever used to go to the bathroom, she led me to Zac’s room.
Anna was coming out of her own, and her face had twisted into such a feral snarl that I was surprised she resisted the urge to lunge at me. Instead, she muttered something under her breath and stormed past us.
His room was small, barely large enough for both of us to stand in, with a comfy, large single bed made with dark sheets and a grey duvet.
The walls are dark and bare. The air was heavy with him, the scent of summer and oil and leather almost potent enough to convince me he was there, and my chest ached.
Claudia had gestured towards the clean clothes on the bed that she’d brought from home for me, and I thanked her, quickly using the shower in the bathroom before getting dressed and heading to work.
And tonight, Claudia had told me to dress in something nice, but gave me nothing else.
I weave through the streets, heels clacking against the tarmac until turning down the familiar alleyway of loose dirt and weeds. I’ve come to realise that Enforcers seem to avoid this part of the city, probably certain that no one dares venture this way.
“Em,” Claudia calls out as I round the corner. They’re all gathered in front of the house. “You made it.”
“Sorry I’m late,” I say. “Engleberry had me loading up more than enough wheelbarrows for two people today. Didn’t even let me stop for lunch.”
“Bitch,” Claudia mutters under her breath.
Bridget joins us with a grin. “Looking good, Em.”
“She’s straight, Bridget,” Anna snaps, impatient and bitchy. “Can we go?”
“Fucking hell, give me strength not to throttle her,” Bridget mutters. She watches as Anna stalks off and then glances at me, rolling her eyes.
“Don’t listen to her.” I slip an arm around her tattooed upper arm and squeeze. “You look good, too.”
“Thanks, babe,” she murmurs, arm hooking around my waist. “Ready to have some fun?”
“What kind of fun?”
“The fun kind,” she practically sings, dragging me forward, following the bitchy brunette.
“Helpful,” I mutter, tone blunt, but she just grins.
“Anna heard something at work today,” Jordan says quietly from beside us, his arm draped across Claudia’s shoulders. “You deserve to know.”
I glance at him, pulse racing. “Oh?”
“Both Zac and Kayla are still alive.”
Air rushes from my lungs, and my knees wobble. I nod before I can even think, relief pulsing through me so fast it’s dizzying. They’re alive. He’s alive.
“Do we know… I mean… anything—”
“We don’t know anything else,” Jordan cuts in. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay,” I manage, though my chest tightens all over again. Bridget’s arm slips from my waist, her hand finding mine instead, grounding me.
They’re alive. But alive doesn’t mean they’re okay. It doesn’t mean strong, or safe, or whole. On the floor of their cells, they’re probably bleeding, sobbing, hurting.
My grip tightens on Bridget.
“Zac is strong, Em,” Bridget says, her voice steady. I shoot her a weak smile.
Ahead, Anna whirls around, her black mini-skirt flaring out around her. “I haven’t got all day,” she snaps before coming to a halt at the end of the alleyway.
“I’m going to kill her,” Bridget hisses.
“Bridget,” Claudia chastises, though she smiles.
“Don’t forget, that’s my sister you’re threatening,” Kieran says, voice laced with amusement.
My mouth drops open. I blink at him, and then turn towards Princess Petty, trying to locate any similarities in the waning light.
“She’s…” I blink once more and shake my head. “She’s your sister?” I’m truly baffled. How one set of parents could create such two polar opposites—one kind and caring, the other Satan—is beyond me.
Kieran smirks. “Yeah.”
Silence falls over us, and I don’t bother trying to fill it, mind too preoccupied with the idea that these two—admittedly beautiful—people are siblings. All of a sudden, their emerald eyes match. Their dark hair. Their slight figures.
But still.
He’s so… nice.
Anna leads us out of the alleyway, her ass shimmying as she goes, onto a road ravaged by weeds and debris.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“You remember what we said about there being other people who want to overthrow the State?” Claudia asks. I nod as Bridget grins beside me. “We thought it was time to introduce you to that side of it,” she finishes.