Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
Mandie
The gym was intimidating. There were way too many machines and weights I had no use for. I just needed the treadmill to blow off steam. I wasn’t in the best shape, so thirty minutes was enough.
I wiped my head with a towel and aired out my tank top. I noticed my clothes did little to hide the faint bruises already blooming along my collarbone or the bite mark on my shoulder. Sebastian’s doing. The man had teeth like a goddamn wolf when he wanted to.
I decided I'd better head to my room to change into something that covered more. I threw on a sweatshirt and checked myself out in the mirror. Perfect.
Then I heard the hum of voices carried down the hall, low and urgent. Men planning. Men deciding. Always men.
I heard Quantum Knight’s voice-changing device. I knew this was my moment. I grabbed a piece of paper from my nightstand I had been working on and headed out.
I charged into the main room, the list crumpled slightly in my grip. The paper was warm from how tightly I’d been clenching it, ink smudged in places where my fingers had pressed too hard. I wasn't asking for much. Basic human necessities. Something had to give in this high-tech prison.
Quantum Knight stood at the center of the room, his suit’s pale gold circuitry pulsing faintly like veins of liquid metal. His helmet’s visor glowed a dim electric blue, casting sharp shadows across his chest. He had one hand raised, fingers splayed, as if mid-gesture when I walked in.
Matt loomed beside him, arms crossed over that ridiculous chest, beard scruffier than usual.
Donovan was perched on the arm of the couch.
Roger leaned against the kitchen island, all easy confidence, biceps stretching the sleeves of his t-shirt.
Johnny was sprawled in one of the chairs, ankles propped on the coffee table, spinning a throwing knife between his fingers with lazy precision.
Sebastian was at the far end of the room. His back was to me, but I knew the set of his shoulders, the way his slicked-back hair caught the light. He held a glass of something amber, swirling it absently.
I cleared my throat.
Five pairs of eyes snapped to me. Quantum Knight’s visor flickered, the gold light intensifying for a fraction of a second. Johnny’s knife stilled mid-spin. Roger’s smirk faltered, gaze dropping to my collarbone before snapping back up. Donovan’s fingers stilled.
Sebastian didn’t turn around. Typical.
"Look, while you guys are busy measuring your inseams or whatever you do before a mission," I said, leaning against the doorframe, "I need you to make a run. And don’t get the generic brand. I know you guys have big wallets, or least one of you does."
I held out the list.
Quantum Knight didn’t take it. His gloved fingers twitched. "We have everything we need already."
I shoved the paper toward him again, close enough that the edge brushed against his matte armored chest. "Yeah, you have everything you need. You have protein powder and sadness. I need actual supplies. If you’re gonna keep me locked up in this rich-people panic room like a hamster, then you’re gonna buy me the good wood chips. "
Johnny sat up straighter, dark eyes gleaming with amusement. Before Quantum Knight could respond, he lunged forward and snatched the list.
"Ooooh, let’s see what the princess demands," he drawled, unfolding it with exaggerated care.
I shot him a flat look. "Careful. The words might be too big for you."
"Snacks… lots of snacks," he read aloud. "Hmm. Tampons. Construction paper, glue, pipe cleaners, jumbo popsicle sticks... wait, are these crafting supplies? Are we running a kindergarten?"
"I’m bored," I said, deadpan. "And when I get bored, I start breaking things. So unless you want me to find out which button in this place launches the nukes, you’ll get me the glitter glue."
Johnny made a face. "Let's see. More clothing. Tons of books. Jesus, Mandie, there must be a hundred of them here."
"It’s fifteen," I corrected. "And unlike you, some of us can read without moving our lips."
"Really? You’re holding us hostage over crafting supplies and smutty books?"
Roger barked out a laugh. "I had no idea you were a scrapbooker."
"I’m not a scrapbooker. I’m an artist of chaos. And it’s none of your business what I do with them. Maybe I’ll make a paper-maché model of your ego. I’ll need more paper."
Quantum Knight’s voice cut through the laughter, robotic and unyielding. "You don’t need this stuff."
I crossed my arms. "I’m not asking, Circuit Man."
"You’re not in a position to demand anything," he countered, visor flaring.
I stepped closer, until I could see my own unimpressed scowl reflected in his helmet. "Then open the door and let me go. I’ll walk to the bodega myself. I’ll hitch a ride on a polar bear. I’ve survived on expired yogurt and spite for years; I can handle a few icebergs."
Silence.
Johnny whistled low. "Damn, Boss. She’s telling you..."
Quantum Knight’s gloved hand flexed. For a second, I thought he might actually consider it. Then he exhaled sharply through the speakers, a staticky sound. "Fine."
Victory is mine. And it tastes like eventual chocolate.
"We are like a family, after all. Even if sometimes it doesn’t feel like it," Quantum Knight said.
I recoiled, face scrunching up. "Ew. Do not say that. That is the creepy corporate bullshit they use at work. We are roommates who hate each other. Keep it professional."
"Good luck," Johnny smirked. He tried to hand the list to Knight, but Quantum Knight shoved it back into Johnny’s chest.
"Take care of it."
Johnny’s grin widened. "Alright, I guess I can handle it. I’ll just put it on the company card." He saluted lazily, then blurred into a streak of motion, shooting out of the room with the list fluttering in his wake.
A split second later, the air rippled, and he was back, grabbing the list he’d dropped, and zoomed out again.
"Show off," I muttered.
Quantum Knight turned away from me. "Roger. Donovan. Suit up. We’re leaving in five."
Roger pushed off the island. "You heard the man. Chop chop, Flex."
Donovan unfolded himself from the couch with quiet grace. He didn’t look at me as he passed, but his fingers brushed mine. A secret promise. Or maybe he was just checking for a pulse.
Sebastian finally turned, brown eyes dark over the rim of his glass. He looked exhausted.
"You all have a good evening. I am going to retire."
"Good night, Doc," Matt said.
I watched as Roger, Donovan, and Sebastian disappeared down the hall. Quantum Knight lingered for a beat longer, his visor flickering like a dying bulb in a dive bar bathroom. Then he was gone too.
I had five minutes before they left. Before the Keystone went quiet again. Before I was alone with my thoughts, my aches, and—hopefully—a giant bag of spicy chips.
Fuck.
I stormed toward the kitchen, yanking open the fridge. It was stocked with their shit, protein shakes, pre-packaged meals. A single, sad-looking apple rolled around in the crisper drawer.
I grabbed it, biting into it with force. The skin split with a sharp crack, sour juice flooding my mouth. I leaned against the cold countertop, chewing aggressively.
The common area was too quiet. I was debating whether to throw the apple core at the wall.
A presence, large and deliberate, filled the space behind me. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Matt. His scent hit me first: leather and cedar. Then the heat radiated off him.
"Does it taste good?"
His voice was rough, vibrating in his chest. I swallowed the mouthful of apple.
"No," I admitted. "It’s terrible. Underripe. Bitter."
"I can get you another one."
I turned. His face was all sharp angles in the dim light, blue eyes too bright.
"Last one," I said, holding up the apple.
"I can let Johnny know to add them to the list."
"Fuck Johnny. And fuck this whole place. I am getting restless in here."
Matt’s brow furrowed. "Take it easy. It's just an apple."
I knew I shouldn't take my anger out on him. But I was fed up.
"That was a long list you gave the boss."
"Correction: a long list that your boss gave Johnny."
"Still. Lot of work."
I followed his line of sight to the smudged ink. "Yeah, well. Johnny’s got legs. He can walk. With his super speed, I don't feel guilty."
Matt almost smiled. "Might take even him a while to gather it all."
"Good. He deserves to put some hustle in."
Silence settled between us. Then—
"You’re pissed."
"What gave it away? The death grip on the fruit or the glaring?"
Matt crossed his arms. The sleeves of his shirt strained against his biceps. "I notice you get like this every time Quantum Knight makes an appearance."
I set the apple down. "He gets on my nerves. He is the reason I am here, and he is never around. Reminds me of my ex. Plus, I am hangry."
His eyes narrowed. "Amanda."
The way he said my name, full, deliberate, made my stomach twist. No one called me Amanda.
"I’m tired of waiting, okay?" I snapped. "I’m tired of everything being on someone else’s timeline.
My dad was supposed to come back. My mom promised Disney World.
Teddy said he’d make time for us. My boss—" I scoffed.
"Even you. You all just expect me to sit here. Be patient. Be good. Well, I’m done. "
Matt didn’t move. "Disney World?"
I laughed, but it came out wrong. "Yeah. Pathetic, right? Grown-ass woman still hung up on a theme park she never got to go to." I picked at the apple skin. "My mom promised me when I was eight. Said we’d go when things ‘settled down.’ Things never settled down."
"You’ve still never been?"
"No. And I asked Teddy once. He said, 'Babe, Orlando’s a hellhole in the summer. We’ll do Paris instead.'" I snorted. "Like I gave a shit about Paris. I wanted the mouse, Matt. I wanted the goddamn castle."
His eyes darkened. "Teddy’s an idiot."