27. Finn
Sweat glistened on his skin, but he barely noticed it. It didn’t matter to him. He just wanted to forget, letting the pain drown out his constant thoughts.
Twelve Conductors stood in two clean lines, shoulders square, waiting for his next command.
The harsh fluorescent lights beat down on them. Henry spared no expense in building the Way Station, and the training center reflected that.
The center was a large building opening into a cavernous main room that smelled like clean rubber and polished steel.
Everything in the facility gleamed: screens, equipment, the floor.
Off the main room, there were state-of-the-art simulation rooms, a well-equipped gym for physical conditioning, and, after a handwritten report explaining the benefits, an indoor shooting range.
Abuela Hidalgo circled the indoor track, on the second floor, giving Finn a little wave as she jogged around the top in her purple velvet tracksuit.
“Again,” he ordered.
The team paired off, getting into their fight stances, some dropping their heads back, stifling their collective groan. Last time someone groaned and complained about the training being too hard, Finn made them run laps around the Way Station until they couldn’t stand.
If they wanted to be babied, they could stay with Atlas’ training.
Atlas taught efficiency.
Finn taught survival.
“Start on formation three.” He paused, assessing the group in front. “Tim, your feet are in the wrong position. If you kick like that, you’re going to break your leg,” Finn chastised.
Huffs and shouts echoed around the room as they moved through their drills.
“Danny, your eyes were down. You’re dead. Try again,” Finn barked.
The cool air blown down from the fans did little to temper the heat simmering in his thoughts. No matter how hard he pushed himself in training, fighting matches, and runs, Lucie was always there, at the forefront of his mind.
It had been a month since he had seen Lucie. Four weeks since he’d last held her. Thirty-one days since he realized he loved her. He wondered if she was okay and if she’d thought about him as much as he did.
He doubted it.
He was hopeless.
Day in and day out, everything was about her.
Her smile was the headliner for his dreams.
“Throw your elbow back, Jaymee,” he commanded as he circled each of the groups.
Their last night together, he’d wanted nothing more than to turn back around, but he’d stopped himself. Lucie told him to leave, and he wanted to respect her boundaries.
But every day since then, a gnawing sensation sat in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn’t do anything about it.
If she needed him, all she had to do was press a button.
You did the right thing, he told himself. She needs space. Don’t be a dickhead.
He was usually a dick, but not this time.
But damn—he missed her.
The silence was suffocating.
Sunup to sundown, he stared at his new communicator like a lighthouse keeper’s wife.
Finn tried to convince himself she’d reach out. She had his communicator now—and if she wanted to talk, she could. All signs pointed to—she didn’t want to talk to him.
Every time his watch buzzed, he found himself hoping it was Lucie.
Every. Single. Time.
And every single time, it wasn’t her.
There was nothing.
No messages.
No calls.
His messages mostly consisted of Charlie checking in to see if Finn had eaten anything that day or wanted to go on a run again. He knew why he was doing it, but it didn’t make the ache between his ribs lessen.
Every morning without fail, Charlie had been at his front door with a cup of coffee to get his ass out of bed and go on a run.
Life would get better when he realized Lucie didn’t need him. Shit. Even though her absence was like he was missing an organ.
“Move on to formation four. Switch the person on defense,” he commanded. The Conductors shifted, adjusted, and tried again despite their shaking hands and flushed faces. “Attack.”
His side, where he had been shot, still ached, but it was healing well.
Finn pushed himself just as hard as he pushed them.
Anything less was dishonest. Legion didn’t pull their punches, and after getting shot by one of their agents, the need to drill into his cadets the importance of survival seemed more important than ever.
The only way he could protect them was by teaching them how to protect themselves.
He should have stopped the training forty-five minutes ago. Finn pushed them hard. Probably harder than he should have. He’d let them sleep in tomorrow. They’d earned it.
Despite Sabrina’s worry of retaliation, Legion had been silent—no recent kidnappings or threats to Atlas. Finn didn’t like the quiet, but at least Lucie’s life hadn’t been threatened. At least according to Isla’s reports on Lucie’s house, which he’d begged Charlie for.
No movement.
No threats.
Finn’s desperate visit to Lucie’s place to clean up his wound had been clean, just as he’d suspected. But it was nice to know for sure. He was grateful Sabrina took his concerns seriously. If Legion knew about Lucie, they would have acted already.
Finn should’ve been relieved, but the news only made his heart sink. It meant he couldn’t justify bringing her into the Way Station for protection.
Speak of the devil.
A sure stomp of footsteps broke his focus. Finn glanced around to see Isla’s slow approach, with a folder in her hands.
Isla had long brown hair and matching eyes.
She’d lost her twin sister to Legion last year and stayed behind at the Way Station after both her parents wanted to be relocated.
Sabrina made Isla a lead right after she completed her training at Atlas.
She was one of his best trainees and had the best marksmanship out of all of them, including him.
“Stand fast,” Finn called out.
A few people bent over, hands on their knees, panting. Danny dropped flat onto his back, staring at the skylight.
Isla held out a thin folder to him, her expression as stoic as ever.
“That’s enough for the day,” Finn called out.
Relief broke through the formation.
“Thank goodness,” Abbie heaved.
“I was about to fake a pulled hamstring,” Danny heaved from the floor.
“Do it in the field, and Legion will finish the job,” Finn said, taking his hair out of his leather tie.
“I thought you were trying to kill us, sir,” Jaymee breathed, grabbing her water bottle.
Finn snorted. “If I were trying to kill you guys, I’d finally get some peace and quiet. Hit the showers. Dismissed.”
As if by some miracle, everyone jumped up suddenly full of energy, clambering over each other to get out of the training center before he changed his mind.
Finn took the folder from Isla the second their boots left the arena.
“Paperwork reporting my watch,” she notified him.
“Lieutenant Warren told me to deliver this to you personally. He was sick of you asking for it. My mission is complete.” It took everything he had, but he’d never bothered Isla or asked how Lucie was doing.
He would go over to Charlie’s place and peek at the records, which he was pretty sure Charlie had laid out for him anyway.
He flipped the report open and scanned the pages. The first few were standard—nothing out of the ordinary, but when he got to the section he cared about, his eyes narrowed. He couldn’t stop the surge of anger rising out of his chest.
“Four weeks and you never saw her?” His voice came out as ice. Cold. Harsh. Dangerous.
Isla shrugged, crossing her arms.
Finn’s jaw tightened, the folder crumpling slightly in his hands. “Your mission was to watch her, too,” he said, his voice low. “Not just look out for Legion.”
“Wasn’t part of the mission. I did my job. No signs of Legion. She’s fine.” She shrugged her shoulders again as if this wasn’t life-altering news. None of her other reports said this.
He clenched his teeth.
Isla had no idea what kind of danger Lucie was in, and it made him sick to think Lucie was out there alone, all while Isla had taken her job lightly.
“Your job was to make sure she was safe.” Finn pushed down the sharp edge of his anger, threatening to break loose. “If you’re too busy to do your job right, then maybe you shouldn’t be out in the field at all.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I did what I was supposed to do, Finn. I’m not there to babysit someone.”
In an instant, Finn was in her face, his voice a growl. “It’s General Vega.”
Isla shifted but held her ground, meeting his gaze without backing down. “You seriously going to pull rank?”
“Tomorrow morning at 0500 hours. You’re gonna run drills until I’m convinced you’re not going to get someone killed.”
He stared her down for another moment before she turned on her heel, saluting him.
Without another word, he snapped the folder shut and strode off. His heart was pounding as he walked away.
What if something bad happened to her?
Screw it. He couldn’t take it anymore.
Finn knocked on the door to Sabrina’s house, not caring if she was busy.
Sabrina opened the door in her pajamas, eyebrows raised in surprise, but before she could speak, Finn came in and threw the folder down onto her messy kitchen table.
The papers were scattered across the surface, along with whatever she was working on.
“Isla didn’t do shit,” Finn said, his voice tight with frustration. “She watched the house. That’s it. She never saw Lucie.”
Sabrina frowned, glancing down at the mess of papers. “What do you mean? I thought she was supposed to keep an eye on?—”
“She was,” Finn cut her off, his voice rough with anger. “But she watched for Legion and nothing else. She never made contact with Lucie. Never checked in to make sure she was safe. She never saw her.”
Sabrina leaned forward in her chair, hands clasped together, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. “What do you want to do?”
“Murder Isla,” Finn said, pacing now, unable to stand still. “I don’t know. I’ve been waiting for weeks, thinking everything’s fine, and it’s not. If something happened—” He stopped, shaking his head, trying to push down the fear rising in his chest. “If something happened, it’s on me.”
“Go. If you want clearance, you have it from me. I’ll tell Dalton at the guard station to let you through,” Sabrina said, lifting her wrist to give the order into her communicator.
“I need you to check on her. Please,” he begged.
Sabrina blinked, taken aback by the desperation in his voice; he never said please.
“You want me to go?” she asked, dropping her hand.
“Yes.” Finn stopped pacing, facing her directly.
“She doesn’t know who you are. That gives you an edge.
She’ll talk to you. If I go—” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every tense line of his body.
“If I show up, she won’t tell me what’s actually going on.
She’d hide it. She’s angry at me. Rightfully so. ”
Sabrina tilted her head, studying him. “Do you absolutely think she’s in danger?”
“I don’t know!” Finn’s voice cracked, his hands shaking as he tried to steady himself. “That’s the problem. I don’t know. But I can’t just stand here and wait. Please, Sabrina. Just check on her. Please, make sure she’s okay.”