27. Talon
TALON
Ilean against the kitchen island, staring at my phone as I take a bite of toaster waffle. There’s enough food stockpiled in this cabin to survive a fucking apocalypse– probably two– and still, somehow toaster waffles are what I chose to celebrate my first day of unemployment.
The bedroom door opens as I’m tearing off another bite, Jersey wandering out wearing another one of my shirts, rubbing her eyes. I lower the volume on the music playing from the surround sound, gesturing to the plate of waffles in offering.
She pauses, blinking at me in confusion before pointing to the ceiling. “Is this Retrograde?”
I jerk a nod, swallowing my bite as I reach for my coffee cup.
Her brows furrow. “You listen to Retrograde?”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I growl.
“I… don’t know.” Her head tilts as she studies me, like she’ll find the answer carved in my fucking skin if she just looks hard enough.
“Worked security for their last live show,” I say. “They were decent.” My shoulder lifts in a shrug as I take a drink of my coffee.
“Seriously?” she asks, eyes brightening. “I was at that show. The one downtown?”
I nod again, then gesture to the empty barstool at the counter. “Eat.”
She folds her arms over her chest. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Fine, starve,” I grumble, taking another large bite of waffle.
She glares at me for a beat before huffing out a breath, moving towards the kitchen and dropping down onto the stool.
“So, what now?” she asks, eyeing me as she pulls a waffle from the pile onto an empty plate, doing exactly what I fucking told her to do. “It’s been fun playing house and all, but what’s the end game here? Are you gonna bring me back to the Vanguard, turn me in to The Registry?”
“I should,” I mumble, moving in beside her. My hand snaps out, forefinger and thumb pinching her chin, tilting her head up until our gazes lock. “There’s a sizable bounty on your head, little stray.”
She sucks in a breath through her teeth, her grip on her fork tightening.
I pinch harder, eyes flicking from the fork and back. “Don’t,” I warn.
A mischievous smirk curls her lips, lashes batting innocently. “But what if I’m feeling stabby?”
“Then there’s plenty of elitist pricks in Northbrooke you could carve up.”
A wicked little spark ignites behind her hazel eyes.
There’s my fucking girl.
“You’ll stay here,” I declare, releasing her chin and picking up my waffle again, tearing into it with my teeth.
“Here?” she repeats, nose wrinkling. “With you?”
I raise a brow. “That a problem?”
She narrows her eyes on me, clearly searching for some sort of subtext.
“Guess I can just take you to the Vanguard, then,” I suggest.
Her face screws up in a grimace. “I’d rather fucking die.”
“It’s decided, then.”
“What, I don’t get a choice?” she scoffs, stealing my coffee mug from my hand.
“You just made it,” I reply bluntly as I point toward the door. “Out there, it’s only a matter of time before you’re hunted down and turned in to The Registry. They can’t get to you here.”
She lifts her chin, eyeing me suspiciously. “What makes you so sure?” she asks, hands wrapping around my coffee mug as she lifts it to her own lips and takes a long drink.
“Other than the fact we’re surrounded by hundreds of acres of wilderness with a secure perimeter?” I ask, stealing my coffee back the moment she lowers the mug. “They’d have to hire a merc to do it, and the only one with the skillset needed for the mission just retired.”
She nibbles on her bottom lip in contemplation as I tilt my mug, finding it empty.
I scowl at her. “Who fucking chugs hot coffee?”
“Someone that’s been tased while trying to savor it before,” she deadpans.
“Martin?” I surmise, walking over to the coffee pot for a refill. “Shame he’s already dead.”
Steam billows up as I refill my cup, pulling out another and shifting the carafe to fill one for her.
“So this place,” she murmurs, glancing around. “Is it your retirement home, then? Secret lair?”
“Something like that,” I say, placing a mug down in front of her. “Could be yours, too.”
She eyes me skeptically, lips turning down in a frown as she pulls the mug towards herself, like she’s afraid I’m going to take it away from her or some shit. “Until you change your mind, decide to go back, and collect my bounty?”
“I’m not going back,” I mutter. “The mercs are catching heat right now, some fuckin’ nepo baby got killed and his daddy thinks one of us did it.”
“Did you?” she asks, cocking a brow at me over the rim of her mug.
“Doesn’t matter,” I grumble. “Either way, the world’s better off without Austin fucking Miller in it.”
She chokes on her swallow, coughing and sputtering as she sets down the mug, blinking at me.
“He was a Registry Enforcer,” I say, “but before that, he was training to be a Mercenary. We were partners on a field assignment fresh out of probationary training. And, like a goddamn moron, he went off book. The rules were simple, track down this teenage girl and bring her back to the Vanguard alive. Fucking child’s play, but that neanderthal got trigger happy and shot her. ”
Jersey stares at me wide-eyed, one hand drifting down to the left side of her stomach.
“I called him on his bullshit and he thought he’d pin it on me, to try to cover up his incompetence.
Came at me with a knife…” I lift a hand, tracing a fingertip over the scar cutting over my left eye.
“I knocked the fucker out, reported it to our Chief, and he got kicked from Syndicate.
But because his father works at The Registry and sucked off the right people, he got him a job there that he wasn't qualified for.”
Her breathing grows ragged, fingers curling tightly around the edge of the counter. “What about the girl?” she asks, her voice thin.
“I forgot all about her,” I admit, grabbing my coffee and beckoning her with a flick of my head as I head for the door.
She swipes up her own mug and a half-eaten waffle, following me hesitantly out of the cabin.
Outside, the birds are chirping from the trees, morning dew still clinging to the grass. I sink down in an Adirondack chair, turning to look at her as she pulls the door closed behind us. “Recently, I learned she’d become an Asset,” I say, leveling her with a stare. “A311.”
Her mouth hinges open, hazel eyes widening. “You… you were there?”
I dip my chin in a nod, patting my thigh.
“And you knew?” she asks, voice strained as she takes a hesitant step closer. “You knew it was me?”
“Not at first,” I admit, hooking an arm around her waist and dragging her down onto my lap. I shift her sideways, draping her legs across mine. “But after I brought you in, I had a friend get me access to your files.”
“Is that why you came back?” Her spine goes rigid under my palm, her whole body subtly bracing like she’s preparing for a blow.
I stare back at her, unsure how the fuck to answer that.
The connection between us fueled my obsession, sure.
Gave me another reason to keep digging, another incessant itch I couldn’t scratch.
Seeing pieces of my own past in hers reminded me how this whole fucking government is designed to exploit your soul beyond recognition.
Bleed the working class dry, and then laugh in their faces as they struggle to survive, looking down on them for being in the very position they’d been forced into.
And then, in this mass-manufactured hell, offer them assistance that was never meant to help them– all to just sit back in their glass towers and watch as the world rots in decay beneath their fucking feet.
She didn’t deserve that, but whatever it is that I feel for Jersey took root before I discovered our connection.
“Well?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest as a breeze kicks up, goosebumps pebbling across her skin.
I pick up my mug, taking a drink. “Eat your breakfast,” I grumble, staring out at the sun creeping up over the tree line.
A smile slowly spreads across her face as she takes a bite, snickering as she chews.
“What?” I deadpan.
“It’s just cute,” she muses.
A giggle bursts from her throat. She slaps a hand over her mouth to cover it, but it does fuck all to contain the sound.
Laughter normally irritates me. Coming from her, though, it’s almost… nice.
“You act all big and bad,” she snorts, “but it turns out, big bad Repo man has a conscience.”
“No I don’t,” I mutter.
“Uh-huh, sure,” she laughs. “Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night.”
We sit there quietly, the birds chirping and leaves rustling in the breeze as the sun rises. An unfamiliar warmth blooms in my chest as she leans against my bare chest.
“So, why’d you kill Miller, anyway?" she asks, fingers tracing along one of my tattoos.
“I think you know,” I murmur.
Her breath hitches, smile fading as she tilts her face up to look at me.
My hand reaches up, winding her hair around my fist and yanking her head back. “Nobody touches what’s mine.”
“But I wasn’t yours,” she scoffs.
“Yeah you were,” I say, my other hand resting on the crest of her thigh. “You just didn’t know it yet.”
She draws in a sharp breath like she’s about to protest, so I crush my lips against hers to silence her, the kiss hard and unforgiving.
My hand slips beneath the hem of her shirt, gliding over her already wet slit before I shove two fingers inside.
She lets out a breathy moan when I pull back, her lips puffy and swollen.
“You were made for me, little stray,” I say, pumping my fingers in and out to punctuate every word. “Your pain. Your pleasure, it’s all fucking mine.”
Her eyes narrow in defiance as she reaches up, grabbing onto my hand and trying to dislodge it from her hair.
“Listen here, Sasquatch,” she snarls. “If I’m gonna stay here, I’m not gonna be owned.” Her fingernails dig into my skin, but I revel in the pain, not loosening my hold. “By you, or by anyone else, ever again.”
“Never said I owned you.”
“So what’s the difference?” she asks.
“A choice.” I pull my fingers from her tight cunt, raising them to her lips.
She hesitates for a beat, blinking up at me. Then her pupils blow wide as she opens her mouth, sucking my fingers clean.
I shift back in the chair, grabbing her thighs to adjust her on my lap.
“You sure you’re not a hero?” she asks, her head dropping lazily against my chest.
“Positive,” I say, fingers tracing idly up her spine.
“Then what does that make you?”
I gaze down at her, a smirk playing at my lips. “A fucking monster, little stray. Just one that hunts for you now.”