Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
The room felt empty before he entered it, and yet Thunder was surprised not to find Maya in there, brow furrowed in concentration as she worked on her latest painting.
There was a partially completed work sitting on her easel.
It appeared to be the cliffs where she’d jumped that night they’d found her on the island.
Considering what must have been running through her mind, she’d managed to capture everything perfectly.
It was just as he remembered it as well.
Somehow, she’d brought the picture to life in a way that made him almost expect to hear the waves crashing against the rocks and feel the humid air against his skin.
It looked like she’d stopped halfway through, and given the time, he wondered if she’d gone down to the kitchen in search of something to eat.
His own painting also sat half finished, he’d abandoned it rather abruptly when he’d gotten a text from Steel telling him to drop everything and come to the study.
They had an identity.
The DNA samples they’d provided to Prey had wound up leading them to the case of a fourteen-year-old girl who had been abducted one day while at the mall with her friends.
Maya Newell had been missing for thirteen years.
She had parents who had never given up on her, and two brothers, one older and one younger, who were both married now with children of their own.
Nieces and nephews she’d never been given a chance to meet.
Knowing her name when she hadn't told it to him felt wrong somehow, but Thunder knew they needed the intel to help her heal and feel safe.
It was clear since she hadn't told them her name willingly, and he knew she was perfectly capable of writing it down if she’d wanted him to know it, that she wasn't ready to face her family yet.
Part of him was glad about that, although he knew it made him selfish.
Maybe she wasn't ready to seek comfort from her own family, but she was getting more and more comfortable seeking it from him.
Since no one had let him know that Maya was already in the kitchen, which was where everybody had headed after their meeting, he assumed she’d already eaten and maybe retired to her room to take a nap.
Slowly, she was starting to recover physically.
He was sure that eating regular meals for the last few days helped to fill her out, and while she was still very pale, her skin was getting more of a natural sheen, but she still tired easily.
As he headed to her bedroom, Thunder tried to decide if he should let her know that they knew who she was.
He didn't want her to feel as though they’d broken her trust in going behind her back, but he also didn't want to lie to her. Surely, she would understand that they had done the same thing they would do for any other unidentified victim they’d rescued.
Well, that wasn't entirely true.
If Maya was anyone other than a victim of Dr. Gardner, she would never have been brought there. This place was Delta Team’s sanctuary, and they didn't allow just anyone in.
Only Maya wasn't anyone. She was …
Thunder didn't know how to describe what she was to him, but she was something.
She was important. She felt like home in a way that nothing in his life ever had.
His life before the military hadn't been good. He’d had a dad with anger management problems who took out his rage on his wife, who took out her helpless frustration on him.
His fists had been the answer to every problem back then, because violence as a solution was all that had been modelled for him.
That lesson had never completely been unlearned.
Because just years after joining the military, he signed up for the experimental drug program, spurred on by a desire to become more than his past, better than his parents.
But that program had only led him to become convinced he was a monster just like his father had been.
It was only in these last few months, as he and his team began to accept that Dr. Gardner had never made them into monsters, that he realized he was his own person.
His parents and his past no longer had the same power over him, and with Maya around, he felt this need to prove he was a better man than his father had been.
He had learned that using his fists wasn't the solution to every problem.
Still unsure on the best plan of action, Thunder decided he’d wing it and take his lead from whatever vibes Maya was giving off.
As he reached her room, he couldn’t not smile when he saw her curled up in the armchair by the window.
She seemed to be lost in thought, staring out at the forest, because she didn't turn when he propped his shoulder up against the door jamb.
“Have you eaten lunch already?” he asked when she still didn't seem to register his presence.
No answer.
“Thought maybe we could eat if you haven’t, then take our easels outside, do some painting out in the forest, it’s a beautiful afternoon.” The first hints of spring were starting to creep into the air, although he knew more snow would come before spring officially arrived.
Still no answer.
Something felt wrong. Something was off with her.
Guilt prickled at him because he knew he was keeping a secret from her. Already, he’d been unsure whether to let her know he knew her name, now, he was simultaneously more confused and more guilty.
“Babydoll, everything okay?” he asked as he stepped further into her room. In the reflection in the window, he saw her gaze shift to his reflection, but she didn't turn her head, or respond to his question.
There was no doubt something was going on, but he didn't know if he should push her or give her a little space.
Actually, he did know. He had to ask her what she wanted. One thing he’d assured her of was that she was in control of herself while in this home. She was no longer a prisoner, and if she wanted space, then she would get it.
“What do you need, babydoll? Do you want me to sit with you?”
When she still didn't answer, he had to fight against the urge to go to her, haul her into his arms. Pull out his penis if that was what she needed. Although it seemed she only needed that when she was panicked. Now she was subdued, clearly upset, but she made no move to reach for him.
“Do you want me to go?” he asked, praying that once again she didn't answer.
No answer meant he was staying right where he was, even if she didn't want to hear him talk.
But this time she gave a single nod.
Which left him no choice but to acquiesce. If he wanted Maya’s trust, he had to earn it, and the only way to do that was to prove to her he would always respect her, and that whatever she asked of him, she got.
“If you need me, babydoll, I'm here for you,” Thunder reminded her as he turned and slowly walked out of her room, fighting against his instincts the entire time.
Walking away felt wrong, even if it was the only choice he had.
There was only one reason he could think of for Maya’s abrupt change in demeanor from when he’d left her in her art studio until now.
“She knows,” he said when he saw the others in the hallway outside her room. “She knows that we know her name.” It was the only thing that made sense to him.
“She was there earlier,” Blade confirmed.
“You knew she was there and didn't tell me,” he snarled, now fighting the urge to launch himself at Blade, who must have heard her, or at Dragon, who must have smelled her. “Why didn't you tell me?” If he’d known she was there, he would have shut the conversation down. Instead, he’d been so caught up in relishing finally learning Maya’s name that he hadn't been paying attention to anything else.
“Because you would have shut the conversation down, and she deserves to know everything,” Dragon replied. “In this instance, protecting her isn’t depriving her of important information.”
The answer was simple, and as badly as he wanted to argue against it, Thunder found he couldn’t.
Because it was the right one. Maya did deserve to know everything, and he should have taken her down to the study with him when he got the text that Prey had uncovered her identity.
Should have included her rather than trying to protect her.
“I … don’t know what to do next. With her,” he admitted.
“Give her time, and when she’s ready, talk to her. She’s strong, a survivor, she found a way to endure the hell she’s been living in, she can handle this as well,” Steel said with more confidence than he would have been able to muster.
“Keep doing what you’ve been doing and prove to her that you're still her rock,” Lion added.
Why did that sound so much easier said than done?
The distance between him and Maya felt greater than ever.
March 3 rd
1:16 A.M.
It was time.
The house was quiet and dark, everyone had gone to bed, and Maya prayed that no one would notice when she slipped away into the night.
Somewhat uneasily, she glanced around the room. This was the first place that had been a safe one for her since she was fourteen. Half her life had been spent in a constant state of terror, and the days she’d been there she’d actually been able to pause, to breathe.
It had been a nice break, but it was over now.
Now she had to sneak out into the unknown. She didn't have a plan beyond escaping this house. All she knew was that she wasn't going to hang around and wait to be tossed aside once they’d finished using her.
No one else was going to take control of her life. Only her. It was her life, and even if she made bad choices, she got to make them. They were hers and hers alone.
But if she was making this decision, if she was choosing to strike out on her own with no job, no money, no place to stay, and not a single friend in the world, then she had to steal a few things to make it happen.