Chapter 11 Mandie
Chapter eleven
Mandie
Icracked my eyes open, the dim glow of the ambient lighting casting jagged shadows across the ceiling. Matt’s arm was still draped over my waist, heavy and grounding, his fingers curled loosely against my hip. His weight pressed me into the mattress, trapping me in a cocoon of warmth.
For a second, I just lay there, listening to the deep, even rhythm of his breathing. The man was a furnace. Even in sleep, he radiated heat, his body a solid wall of muscle and scarred skin.
I exhaled slowly, then carefully lifted his arm, sliding out from under it with the practiced ease of someone who’d done this before. I sat up, brushing hair out of my face, and glanced down.
Oh, god.
There was a wet spot on his chest, right in the center of his tattoos. I had drooled on him.
I grabbed my hoodie from the back of the chair and tugged it on, shivering as the cool air hit my skin. The sleeves swallowed my hands.
The floor was smooth beneath my socks as I padded toward the common room, the hallway stretching out like a vein of polished steel. Voices carried before I even reached the doorway—low, urgent, and tense.
Quantum Knight’s modulated tone cut through the murmur of the others, sharp and precise as a scalpel.
I stepped in carefully, staying in the shadows. I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and took in the scene.
Quantum Knight stood by the kitchen island, his matte charcoal armor catching the light in sharp, angular glints.
The golden circuitry embedded in his suit pulsed faintly, like veins of liquid fire tracing the contours of his body.
His helmet turned slightly as he spoke, the visor covering his face unreadable.
“Capital Punishment isn’t just burning villages,” he said, his voice distorted by the suit’s modulator. “He’s searching for something. And if we don’t hit him hard enough to make him retreat, he’s going to keep tearing through Africa until he finds it.”
Johnny was perched on the edge of the couch, spiky blond hair sticking up in every direction, as if he’d been running his hands through it in frustration. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, green eyes bright with that restless, almost feral energy.
“So, we don’t just stop him,” Johnny said, a sharp grin cutting his face. “We bury him. Hit him so hard he forgets what he was looking for in the first place.”
Sebastian stood near a desk in a corner, posture rigid, hands clasped behind his back. The light caught the silver threading through his slicked-back hair, making him look even more like a distinguished professor.
“And if we miscalculate?” Sebastian asked, voice smooth and measured. “If he retaliates against civilians? We need more help.”
Roger was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, the picture of relaxed competence. But I’d seen the way his jaw tightened when Knight mentioned the villages. He wasn’t as calm as he pretended.
“Then we make sure he doesn’t get the chance,” Roger said easily. “We hit him hard and lead him to a kill box. Somewhere away from the population.”
Donovan was the only one who looked out of place, his goth aesthetic clashing with the sterile modernism of the Keystone.
He had his arms wrapped around himself, black nails digging into his sleeves, gray eyes flicking between the others like he was trying to decide where to land.
When he noticed me in the doorway, his shoulders tensed just a fraction.
Quantum Knight turned, the movement smooth and mechanical. “Someone needs to stay with Mandie.”
I stepped into the light. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
The room went quiet. Five heads swung toward me.
I met each gaze with a flat stare. Johnny’s mouth quirked, fighting a smirk.
Sebastian’s brows lifted slightly, the closest he ever got to surprise.
Roger looked amused. Donovan’s gaze locked onto mine, something unreadable flickering in his gray eyes.
“It’s not about needing,” Quantum Knight said, voice even and unyielding. “It’s about strategy. We don’t know what Capital Punishment is capable of. If he traces us back here—”
“I can handle myself,” I cut in, voice sharp. “I’ve been doing it long before any of you showed up.”
“I’m going with you to Africa,” the deep rumble came from behind me.
I turned. Matt filled the doorway, his towering frame blocking most of the light from the hallway.
His long black hair was tousled, beard scruffier than usual, but his blue eyes were sharp and clear.
Whatever had been haunting him last night had burned away in the heat of sleep.
He was wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung sweatpants, the scars on his chest standing out stark against his skin.
Quantum Knight tilted his head, the visor strip flaring briefly. “You’re recovered?”
Matt stepped forward, his presence swallowing the room. “Enough to fight. Best sleep I’ve had in months.”
For a second, no one spoke. Then Johnny let out a low whistle. “Damn. Didn’t expect to see you upright for another day at least.”
Matt ignored him, his gaze fixed on Quantum Knight. “I’m going.”
Quantum Knight considered him for a long moment. Then, with a curt nod, he turned back to the others. “Johnny, Roger, Matt, Sebastian. You’re with me. Donovan—”
“No,” I said, stepping further into the room. “I told you. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“We still don't know what Capital Punishment wants with you,” he said, dismissing me. “Until we do, we take every precaution.”
“You know what?” I crossed my arms, staring at the faceless helmet. “I think you do know what he wants with me and you’re just keeping it to yourself.”
The silence stretched. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t deny it. He just checked the holographic display on his wrist.
“Whatever you believe, it still isn’t safe,” he finally said.
“Fuck safety,” I yelled, throwing my hands in the air in frustration.
“Safety is the architecture of efficiency. That should be our first priority.”
What he just said made me pause, like a memory hitting my head like concrete, blacking me out.
“We leave in five minutes,” he said, voice cold. “Matt, glad to have you back. We’re going to need you.”