Chapter 15
In less than twelve hours, Vega had somehow managed to pull off finding them each a fake fucking passport. Not to mention, someone willing to let her book a couple flights on their card for the cash in return, saving her the hassle of stealing someone’s wallet and credit card information.
Unbelievable. She could barely believe it herself.
Arlet was going to be so proud.
Bridger stared blankly out the cab’s window—Vega at the two forged passports in her hands.
She was right to trust her instinct. It was always the observant ones who knew where to find what they were looking for.
Jakub, the young man, no more than nineteen, sitting in the corner reading Alice in Wonderland, had spent a few months interning for a cyber security company contracted by the United States government—who also secretly dabbled in illegal document forgery.
Vega spent nearly every dollar she had to pay for two, and it was well worth having to pickpocket the rest of the way if it meant she didn’t have to go back and see Chase with his soulless eyes.
“His eyes,” Vega said softly, breaking the silence to look up from the passports.
They hadn’t had much time over the last few hours to talk about everything. The revelation about the cracked portal, Chase’s black eyes.
“Have you seen them do that before?” Bridger asked, keeping his voice low despite the cabbie’s music.
Vega swallowed the knot in her throat and nodded. “When he attacked me before I found you at the Colosseum. That’s the only time I’ve seen it. Ever.”
Bridger looked as exhausted as Vega felt. She was nearing twenty-four hours of no sleep, which meant Bridger was well past a full day awake by now.
Gods or not, they still had to sleep, especially with no powers to fuel them.
Silence was filled with the clueless cabbie’s off-key singalong.
“You said the people in these lives are controlled by your curse…” His eyebrows drew together in question.
“Not like this. I mean…” Vega rolled her lips together while she thought about how to explain it.
“The curse has basically only hijacked a person’s life, forcing them into one with memories they didn’t have of a life we didn’t live together.
It was never them going all soulless eyes, ‘let’s fulfill your destiny’ shit. ”
Quiet fell between them again, their eyes staying locked.
“But now the portal’s cracked. The curse might not be held to an object anymore…” Bridger mumbled like he was thinking out loud.
Vega wasn’t sure about Chase, about what was going on with him or why the other portal was destroyed, but one thing felt certain now. “All signs point to the portal.”
He nodded once, looking as certain as Vega was becoming. “All signs point to the portal.”
Rubbing her temples, Vega slumped into the seat, sliding down until her legs couldn’t go any further underneath the driver's chair. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Bridger looking at her.
“What’s next?” he asked, always needing the details.
“Airport. Security. Flight. Customs. This is the most dangerous part of the trip.” Vega closed her eyes, focusing on keeping her heart rate under control. If she freaked out now, everything else would crumble around her. Vega’s composure couldn’t slip.
“Please tell me there’s a place to eat at this plane-port because I could devour ten meals right about now,” Bridger said, distracting Vega from her growing anxiety.
Vega sat upright. “Airport,” she corrected. “Yes, though we might not have a ton of time for a full meal.”
Bridger groaned, holding his stomach dramatically. “You’re trying to starve me, aren't you? This is my payback.” It was his turn to slump down, tipping towards the middle seat until his head fell into her lap.
Vega tensed, and so did Bridger.
Her body flushed, the worries of their imminent future washing away and shifting into all new ones. Vega’s body warmed, sending a flutter of heat through her veins. “Do you feel that?” she whispered. It was a sensation she hadn’t felt in ages—one she thought she might never feel again.
Their touch had always felt electric, their own tiny current of power, like they were drawn together by an outside force.
“Yes.” Bridger exhaled, not moving from her lap.
She hadn’t realized she’d brought her hands to her chest. Vega slowly lowered them. “Have you felt me this entire time?” Her hand rested softly on Bridger’s upper bicep.
“Every single life. I could block my brain from thinking of you, but I couldn’t trick my body into forgetting you.”
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. They were too close.
Vega couldn’t let them get too close… but where was she supposed to go?
They were stuck inside the tiny backseat for at least another thirty minutes before they arrived at the airport, and then if they didn’t get arrested trying to use false identification, they’d be stuck together on a plane. And then if—
Vega took a shaky inhale, her hand sliding up to his hair. She couldn’t stop herself. It was soft between her fingers raking through the length at the top. “What do you think it means?” she asked, resting her head against the headrest and closing her eyes.
Bridger didn’t answer right away, and the more time passed, she figured he wouldn’t.
“That I fucked up.” Bridger’s words trailed off, his voice deep with sleep and a gravel Vega could feel vibrate against her lap.
Memories of his wrongdoings threatened to flood Vega’s mind, but for the first time since he’d left, Vega let herself enjoy the warmth wrapping around her like a hug—the bliss of reuniting with a soul she’d been bound to deeper than the others.
No one could have predicted what time would do to two lovers destined to fall.
Vega lost track of time, focusing on the feeling of her fingers brushing through Bridger’s hair and the steady breaths coming from his lips.
The calmness of the moment threatened to lull her to sleep, but before she could fall, Bridger jumped, sitting straight up, with panic flaring behind his eyes.
Vega stared at him, her lips parting to speak, but nothing came out. Bridger’s eyes fell to them and then darted back up.
The cabbie slapped his hand against the front passenger seat headrest, getting their attention. “Here” was all he said.
Vega nodded, not looking at him, her focus on Bridger and the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
The dreams. He can’t sleep at all without them.
Bridger snapped out of his trance and exited the cab. Vega handed the driver some money and followed Bridger into the night air without her change.
Bridger’s fingers were connected behind his neck, head turned to the early morning sky.
“Are you—”
“I’m fine,” he cut her off bluntly, continuing to keep his distance.
An ache filled Vega’s chest… and it shouldn’t. He and Vega weren’t friends. They weren’t even officially allies. His tone shouldn’t affect her, but it did.
She was instantly mad at herself for being nice to him, for starting to feel something other than betrayal when she looked at him.
“Perfect,” she sneered. “Give me your dagger.” She scanned for anyone paying them too close attention.
“What?” Bridger asked, the confusion evident on his face.
“Give. Me. Your. Dagger,” she said, slower this time. As if he hadn’t heard her and that was why she was repeating herself.
“I’m not—”
“Yes, you are. You can’t take it with you.” Vega held her hand out, waiting for him to obey. She raised her scarred brow and wiggled her fingers—this wasn’t up for discussion. “Why, Bridger? Why do you have to make my life so fucking difficult?” Her patience was running thin.
Bridger heaved a sigh, looked around to ensure no one saw, pulled the dagger from its spot in his waistband, and handed it over.
Vega slipped the long blade up her coat sleeve, hiding it from plain sight, and walked it over to the garbage, where she discarded it like it was nothing more than a piece of trash she was tossing before entering the airport.
“Pull yourself together,” she told him when she was back by his side. “Shit could get a whole lot worse than some nightmares if this goes wrong.”
She shoved everything she had, which wasn’t much, into her pocket and headed towards security. Inside her coat, Vega had both their passports, a little bit of cash, her almost dead cell phone, and melted lip balm.
Bridger had a small bag from home with a change of clothes and other miscellaneous items, but he promised there was nothing inside that could be used as a weapon.
The line for security was long, people talking of delays and cancellations to flights headed to the U.S. Great. Vega’s hands started to sweat as the line moved faster than she’d anticipated it would. “If I tell you to run, we run, understand?”
Bridger nodded, his lips set in a firm line.
“Straight to the doors we just came in through.”
“Vega, relax. It’s going to be okay.” He stepped close behind her, leaning over her shoulder so no one but Vega could hear him.
“The guy said they were real names and real passports with our pictures now. Plus, whatever that other guy with the screen and keyboard said about the system they used being government official. Everyone seemed pretty chill about the whole thing.” Bridger hooked his thumbs under the straps of his backpack and returned to scanning the airport like a museum.
Not a worry in the fucking world…
Every step closer she took to the front of the line, Vega felt like she was going to barf all over the floor.
“How are you so chill right now?” Vega spun, facing him with a bubble of annoyance churning her stomach.
A slow smile spread across Bridger’s lips, and Vega wanted to smack it off. “Because one of us has to be, and since you're the anxious one right now, I have to be the anchor.” His panic from whatever he’d seen in his sleep must have been gone.
“You’re giving me fucking hives.” When she peeked over her shoulder, Bridger had the goofiest, boyish grin on his face, and it didn’t help with her bubbling stomach.
“Next.”
Their back and forth took Vega’s focus off the moving line. She suddenly couldn’t move, scared into stillness.
If this didn’t work…
“Ma’am, next!” the woman called again.
“Vega,” Bridger said, putting his hands on her shoulders to move her forward.
Her feet dragged like they were weighed down with cement blocks.
“Sorry, she’s a little nervous,” Bridger said with a laugh, earning a small smile from the woman.
“Identification, please.”
Vega reached inside her pocket, fighting against the urge to run as she lifted her hand and gave the woman both of their very fake, very illegal passports.
Bridger’s hands were still on her shoulders, rubbing from the base of her neck down to the curve of her shoulder and back again.
Vega’s body wanted to lean into his touch, but her brain acted first. She stepped back, driving the heel of her boot into Bridger’s foot as inconspicuously as she could.
His hands fell from her body with the warning, and Vega immediately missed the calm his touch washed over her.
The beep sounded like every other passport scanned before theirs, and the lady’s eyes jumped from the picture to Vega’s face twice.
Vega’s esophagus fought to tighten up and choke her to death.
The woman did the same to Bridger, checking the information on her screen.
Thirty. Thirty-one. Thirty-two. Vega hadn’t realized she’d started counting the seconds, waiting for police to swarm them with guns drawn.
The TSA agent closed both booklets abruptly and handed them back. “Safe travels.”