Chapter 9 Mandie
Chapter nine
Mandie
Irummaged through the fridge with another hangover. I may have been drinking too much, but it wasn't like I was driving. Quantum Knight sure was an asshole, but he had good taste in wine.
The fridge was lacking food. It did have chicken, energy drinks, milk, protein shakes… but where’s the good stuff? These guys were gonna starve me.
Donovan was slumped in one of the armchairs like a gothic question mark. His black nails tapped absently against his knee. His hair was even messier than usual, as if he’d been running his fingers through it.
Honestly, I would love to get my hands on his hair. It was chaotic art compared to the perfect coifs of the others.
The thought sent a weird twist through my gut. More than I wanted to admit. He had a movie star attractiveness to him in a subtle way.
Johnny was leaning against the kitchen counter, one spiky-blond brow arched as he swirled a finger around the rim of a glass.
The ice inside clinked, the sound too sharp for the hour.
He’d changed into a faded band tee that clung to his ribs and a pair of jeans slung low enough to make it clear he wasn’t wearing a belt.
Punk-rock laziness, but on him, it looked like an invitation.
His green eyes flicked up, catching mine. "Damn, Weaver. You look like you’re about to murder someone with your eyebrows."
I didn’t blink. "Don’t tempt me."
That smirk of his deepened, all teeth and trouble. "Temptation’s my middle name. But seriously. Why do you always look so pissed?" His gaze raked over me, lingering on the tattoos peeking out from under my rolled sleeves.
A beat. The air between us thickened, charged with something that wasn’t quite hostility. Not anymore.
I let my lips curl, just slightly. "You’re more annoying than you are fast."
"I may be annoying, and I may be fast, but I am also observant."
"What do you observe, Johnny? Other than my chest."
"How about the fact that you keep looking at Flex over there like he’s a puzzle you wanna solve with your teeth?"
Donovan’s head snapped up. His gray eyes locked onto mine for half a second before he dropped his gaze again, but not before I saw the way his throat worked. Swallowing. Nervous. The realization sent a slow, hot pulse between my thighs.
I exhaled. "Fuck off, Johnny."
Johnny chuckled, low and rough. "Or what? You’ll make me?" He leaned in, voice dropping to a murmur. "We already established you could never catch me."
Something dark and hungry uncoiled in my chest. I could’ve slapped him. Instead, I let my voice turn to razor wire. "Either get me coffee or get the hell out of my face."
For a second, I thought he’d push it. His pupils dilated, breath hitching just slightly. The proof that he wasn’t as unaffected as he pretended.
But then Donovan stood, his lanky frame unfolding with that weird, boneless grace of his. "I’ll make it."
Johnny’s smirk faltered. He shot Donovan a look that was half irritation, half something else.
"You mind making me some too? I am always afraid I am going to break that thing."
"Sure," he said.
Donovan walked past me, his shoulder brushing against mine. It was the barest graze, but it sent a jolt up my arm. I watched him move toward the coffee machine, his posture loose, easy, like he wasn’t aware of the way my pulse had started hammering.
I sank onto the couch, the leather cool against the backs of my thighs. The weight of the last few days pressed down on me. Sebastian’s hands, Roger’s mouth, the way Teddy’s voice still echoed in my head sometimes.
I rubbed my temples. Fucking therapy. As if talking about my dad would magically fix the fact that I was currently living in a superhero den, surrounded by men who looked at me like I was either a problem to solve or a meal to devour.
Johnny’s voice cut through my thoughts. "So. How’s the head-shrinking with Doc going?"
I didn’t open my eyes. "Peachy. Doc says I’ve got ‘daddy issues.’" The words tasted bitter. "Like that’s news."
A snort. "Yeah, well. Join the club."
I shot him a glance. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"My old man’s a real piece of work. Not exactly ‘Father of the Year’ material."
Now it was my turn to laugh. "You have daddy issues?"
He raised his eyebrows. "You bet. Probably worse than you."
That got my attention. I cracked an eyelid. Johnny stared at the ceiling. His jaw was tight, muscles feathering along his neck. For once, the smirk was gone.
"Are you trying to keep score to see which one of us has the worst dad?" I used a colder tone than intended.
He shrugged, but it wasn’t casual. It was jerky, like his body was fighting the motion.
"Means I know what it’s like to have a parent who’s basically a walking disaster.
Means I get why you’re so pissed all the time.
" His eyes flicked to mine, green and raw. "Means maybe you’re not the only one who’s fucked up, Weaver. "
The coffee machine hissed, steam curling into the air. Donovan didn’t turn around, but I could see the way his shoulders had gone rigid, like he was holding his breath.
"You ever talk to him? Your dad, I mean," I asked.
Johnny barked out a laugh. "Hell, no. That is why I wasn't there to save you the night you were attacked."
"What?"
"The night Conductor, Soulflame, and Brickslayer attacked you. I would have been perfect for that mission. With my speed, I could have grabbed you and gotten you to safety before they knew what happened."
"And your daddy issues stopped you?"
"My dad is Soulflame."
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. I could’ve filled it with something sharp to cut the tension. But for once, I didn’t.
"I couldn't be there, because I can't go on missions when it involves going up against my dad. He is still my father. I could make a bad split-second mistake that gets someone killed. I am more of a liability than an asset."
Donovan turned, two mugs in hand. He set one down on the table in front of me, the ceramic warm against my fingertips. His voice was soft, almost hesitant. "Black, right?"
I nodded, wrapping my hands around the mug.
The heat seeped into my skin, grounding me.
Johnny was still staring into his drink, expression shuttered now, the vulnerability gone as quickly as it had appeared.
Donovan hesitated, then sat beside me. Not too close, but close enough that I could feel the warmth of his body, the faint scent of sandalwood and something darker, like burned sugar.
I took a sip. The coffee was perfect. Strong, bitter, no nonsense. Just like me.
Johnny finally looked up, his smirk back in place, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "That isn't the type of mission my dad would be sent on. We think they only sent him because they knew it would position it so that I wouldn't go."
I set the mug down. "Okay, you win. Worst father ever."
He shrugged. “Sometimes it feels that way. I know there is still a good side to him. A side where maybe he still likes to steal, but he doesn’t want to run around hurting people. Or working for that psycho.”
I exhaled through my nose, the remnants of last night’s wine still burning the back of my throat. "So, how does it work? Both a father and son getting superpowers?"
Johnny’s grin didn’t falter, but something shifted behind his green eyes. It was amusement, maybe, or the flicker of a memory he didn’t want to touch. He shrugged, the movement loose.
"I was born with mine," he said, voice light. "Probably ‘cause my dad already had ‘em."
Donovan handed Johnny his coffee and joined us on the sectional.
"He got his when he was a kid," Johnny continued, finally meeting my gaze. "Something about a housefire. But he never really talked about it."
He was hiding something. Not lying, exactly, but holding back, like there was a piece of the story he’d swallowed and refused to cough up.
I knew the feeling.
“What’s your dad’s name?”
“Richard Boyd. Probably never heard of him. He’s never been caught either.”
Donovan’s fingers stilled against his mug.
He didn’t look at me, but I could feel his attention like a weight, like he was waiting to see if I’d push.
I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But the way Johnny’s shoulders had tensed, the way his voice had gone carefully neutral, it was the same tone I used when someone asked about my mom.
So I let it go. For now.
The silence stretched, thick enough to choke on. Johnny broke it first, because of course he did.
"You look like you’re gonna dissect me, Weaver. Not sure if I should be flattered or scared."
I rolled my eyes, but the corner of my mouth twitched. "Both."
Donovan made a quiet sound. It was almost a laugh, but not quite. When I glanced at him, his cheeks were just a little pinker. The sight of it sent a weird jolt through me, warm and sharp all at once.
Johnny’s gaze flicked between us, his expression turning knowing. "Oh, that’s how it is," he murmured.
"Where the fuck is everyone?" I asked, changing the subject.
Donovan glanced at me, gray eyes flickering with something unreadable. "Doc, Roger, and the boss are out at some abandoned power plant, trying to stop those asshole villains," he said, voice quiet but steady.
I exhaled through my nose. "What’s so special about an abandoned fucking power plant?"
Johnny shrugged. "Boss didn’t say. Just that it’s bad."
I shook my head. "I swear, sometimes it feels like all you boys are fighting over is toys and pride."
"It's not like that," Donovan said softly.
My fingers dug into my arms. "And Matt? Where’s he? I have barely seen him since I got here."
That got Johnny to pause. His green eyes darted to me before he dropped his gaze again. "Crashed. Went on a mission last night. Those missions fuck him up, you know?"
I knew their missions took a lot out of them. But Matt? He was built like a tank. If he was down for the count, whatever they were dealing with had to be worse than usual.