Chapter 49
Chapter Forty-Nine
Claudia
What the fuck are you doing?” I screech, bursting into the square, whitewashed room. The door bounces off the wall, and my hand splays over it, eyes wide as I take in the tattoo gun. Bridget glances up from the leather chair, grimacing before giving me a shrug.
Emilia’s lying on her back, a small, guilty smile on her lips, and Riley barely spares me a glance as he works on her upper arm.
Finally tearing myself away from Jordan to check on Em, but finding the bar empty, Pippa had been the one to inform me that she saw the two girls disappear with Riley. I’d assumed it was nothing. Hoped it was just Bridget.
“Getting a tattoo,” Emilia replies before lifting a bottle of rum to her lips.
My stomach drops. “Are you crazy?” I exclaim, stepping inside and letting the door close behind me.
“Why does everyone think this is a bad idea?” Emilia mutters. Bridget smirks at the girl, shaking her head and leaning back in the chair.
“Because it is,” I say.
“Why?” Emilia retorts, still smiling. She points at the roses on my own bicep that peek out from the short sleeves of my blue top, her eyes bright. “You have one.”
“But—” My protests die in my throat.
“No buts!” she cuts me off, closing her eyes. “I wanted one.”
Bridget snorts. “One? She’s on her second.”
“What?” I exclaim, stepping forward before I can stop myself. “Where?”
“Thigh and arm,” Emilia says, not bothering to open her eyes. My eyes are wide as I stare down at the dangerous ink scrawled across her upper thigh. Something in me tightens, a slight panic that has everything to do with the rules, with protecting her.
And Zac. Of Zac finding out, of the furious, angry fire behind his eyes. I can almost hear his voice, roaring through the room, ripping into her. The way this will rile him up in a way he insists he doesn’t like.
But I know he does.
Absurdly, a small smirk twitches at the corner of my lips. Emilia’s being defiant, reckless, and utterly, utterly herself. And I can’t stop that.
“Zac is going to kill you,” I breathe out, eyes flicking to Riley.
His jaw tenses as he pauses, looking up at me. “I’m just doing what I’m told.”
Emilia’s eyes flutter open, and she gives me another guilty, slightly wary smile.
I should lecture her about the danger and the consequences and Zac.
Deep down somewhere, that speech swirls, wanting to burst through my lips.
But instead, I swallow it down, letting her choose her own path, even if it terrifies me.
“You”—I point at her—“are asking for trouble.”
Bridget huffs a laugh from the corner.
“Alright, I’m done,” Riley says, straightening and setting his tools onto the tray. Bridget pads over, and the two of us peer down at Emilia’s bicep.
“A butterfly?” Bridget says softly.
“Yeah,” Emilia says, looking down at it with a smile. “They’ve always creeped me out, but my mum loved them. It reminds me that there are far greater things to be scared of out there.”
“That’s… strangely cute,” Bridget murmurs. “I got mine simply because I was bored.” She gestures towards the ink that covers most of the right side of her torso.
“I like it, though,” Emilia says, sitting up, her eyes fixed on the daisies and peonies.
“Oh no,” I mutter, reaching out and grabbing her arm, shaking my head. “No more for you today. Put your jeans on. We’re leaving.”
Emilia pouts. “You’re no fun.”
Riley smirks, and Bridget giggles, nudging me with her shoulder. I give her a—admittedly fake—scowl as Emilia tugs her jeans back on. “I am,” I argue, before pointing back towards the bar. “But I leave you for twenty minutes, and when I turn around, you two have completely vanished!”
Bridget wiggles her brows at me. “Twenty minutes, huh? Jordan’s improving his game.
” A giggle bursts out of Emilia. It’s light and unguarded, and so unexpected that it knocks any response right out of me.
My chest loosens, a wave of relief relaxing my shoulders.
It’s the first time I’ve ever heard her sound carefree.
“Sorry,” Emilia says, stepping forward to loop her arms around my neck. The faint stench of rum fans over my lips, and I frown. “Can you forgive me?”
“Get out of here,” I mutter, shaking my head as I grab her arm.
She grins cheekily, before tossing a glance over her shoulder. “Thanks, Riley!”
“Anytime,” he calls back as I drag her towards the noise and glowing green strobe lights of the main room.
Music thumps around us, but I make a beeline for the bar, where Jordan and Kieran sit, each with a glass in hand.
Jordan’s brow arches the moment he notices us.
His familiar, devilish smile spreads across his face.
My knees weaken, and pleasant heat crawls up my neck, even after all these years.
I’m smiling as I approach, and he reaches out, hand sliding around my waist, tugging me into his side, to where I belong.
There are no remnants of our argument from last week left, not today at least. When Zac gets back… it might be a different matter.
“Where did you disappear off to?” Jordan asks, glancing between the three of us. My lips purse, but I don’t respond.
Bridget grins. “Em wanted to go and see Riley.”
My husband’s eyes bug so wide, I’m surprised they don’t fall out of his head. His hand grips my hip like he’s trying to ground himself. “You… what?” he splutters.
Emilia just smiles, turning sideways to show him.
“Looks good.” Kieran grins, before downing the rest of his drink. “I’ll go and find Anna.”
Jordan’s voice is deep and fierce. “Emilia—”
“You brought me here, Jordan. What did you expect?” Emilia says bluntly, cutting him off.
“I didn’t expect you to run off and cover yourself in irreversible ink,” he snaps.
“Well, Butterfingers here—”
“Shut up!” Bridget laughs, slamming a fist into Emilia’s new ink. The blonde groans, but laughs, holding her arm and returning her gaze to Jordan.
“I’m not messing around here, Jordan,” she says. “I’m sick to death of the State running my life. I’m done listening to them, and I’m done following their rules.”
Jordan’s grip on me softens. “Emilia,” he says. “I’m not trying to upset you. But there’s a reason Zac wanted you as far away from this life and anything that comes with it.”
“I understand that,” she says before giving a weak shrug. “But I’m glad you let me in.”
“Are we ready to leave?” Kieran reappears, his sister in tow. She takes one look at Emilia and rolls her eyes.
“I don’t care what any of you say,” Emilia says, her tone sharp as her eyes flick between us before landing on Anna.
“Or what you think.” Her arms fold across her chest. “Or what Zac is going to say.” Her chin lifts.
“I’ve been subjected to shit from the State for years.
I live in constant fear; I practically shake when I see an Enforcer.
I’m fed up feeling like a prisoner in my own city, my own home. ”
Something inside me twists, and my expression softens. I know that feeling, the utter despair as fear weighs you down, turning you into a walking zombie, going through the motions of life just to survive. It’s exactly who I was, three years ago.
Emilia’s gaze snaps to Jordan, and then Anna. “You can kick me out if you want. Tell me I can’t come to the Safe House or be part of your fucking Scooby gang.” She steps closer, gaze narrowing on Jordan. “But I don’t give a shit. I’ll find a way.”
“Em—”
“I’m not going to stop,” she cuts him off. “Not until I’m so deeply rooted in this place that I’m part of the fucking furniture. I will find my way into the Armoury, and I’ll learn everything I need to just to take the State down.”
Her eyes flash with icy fire, wild and determined, as she stares each of us down in turn.
“So do what you must. For Zac, or for yourselves. But I’m part of the Resistance. Officially. I’m going to fight back.”
The force behind her blue eyes nearly steals my breath.
“And there’s nothing,” she says, her voice dropping to a deep, steady tone that’s edged with the same metal as Bridget’s knives, “you can do to stop me.”