6 MONTHS EARLIER
(Unread) J. Locke
* * *
NOW
It was strange to be back in a familiar place after your life had changed.
I dumped my things in the corner of my living room at the main base and walked over to a mirror on my crutches, where I pulled up my sweater and looked at the two scars on my torso. The wounds were still an angry red and would undoubtedly leave scars. The wounds on my face, save for the one, had almost completely healed with the help of medication.
It was as if everything I had experienced on the shadow plains was a distant dream. As if I didn’t have to fight for my life—that the medication did it instead.
I dropped my sweater again and sat on the couch, pulling up my braced leg. I started fidgeting with the strings of my sweatpants to loosen the fabric around the large cast my leg was trapped in.
My head started throbbing lightly.
The doctors I had spoken to told me I shouldn’t exert myself again too soon, both mentally and physically. My brain needed time to recover from the coma I had been in, and my memory and concentration abandoned me now and then.
A deep sigh left my body. I was exhausted.
My eyes drifted to my desk, which had a screen on it, and I sat up straighter. It wasn’t like I was doing anything illegal, but I still felt caught. My hands were itching, and after trying to distract myself for a minute, I pushed myself upright and hobbled over to the desk, pulling the chair back and pressing on the screen as I sat down.
I drummed my fingers on the wooden desk, waiting for the screen to start up.
For the first time in years, I opened my chat box. I had tried so hard to avoid it for so long, suppressing my curiosity—suppressing my feelings for Jordan.
He had sent me so many messages.
Slowly, taking my time, I read through all of them and felt ashamed of what I had done, disappearing without saying anything to him. It had been very selfish. I hurt him more than I had ever imagined. Granted, I had needed it, but still…
His last message was a message from three months ago:
(Unread) J. Locke
I stared at the screen and wrapped my arms around myself, tears gathering in my eyes. I realized I could finally let go of my internal struggle: the battle I was fighting against myself all these years—over. It was safe for me to do so. It was safe for me to feel powerless sometimes and give in to the uncertainty in life.
Wiping away a few stray droplets, I typed back a message, the only one in over two years:
There was too much going on within me—too many emotions colliding at once. I logged off, got up, and pushed my desk chair back. I needed a break.
A big one.
* * *
A knock sounded on my door, and my head shot out of the book I was reading. I looked at the clock. It was late, and I wasn’t expecting anyone.
It was a way the nightmares often started. Never at the main base, but always in our old home—or me and my father’s. I hadn’t had a nightmare since I’d gone to the hospital and discovered my mother had died instead of becoming a mutant.
When there was another soft knock, I stumbled to the door and unlocked it.
“Nikolai?” I said, genuinely surprised to see him standing there. He was wearing a long black coat, black pants, and a turtleneck sweater.
He nodded to someone passing by. I looked at him with a frown. “What’s with the incognito look?” I joked, and Nikolai’s mouth pulled into a frugal smile—the one you usually got from him if you were one of the lucky people he actually liked. The only times I heard him laugh out loud had been with Hunter or soldiers he’d known for some time.
“Hunter and Jordan would be heartbroken if they found out I’m visiting you at this hour,” he said dryly, mirth lacing his voice.
I laughed. “Maybe we should make a run for it while we still can.”
“Too late for that now,” Nikolai muttered under his breath, but something in his eyes made me pause.
I gasped.
He schooled his features into vast nothingness, but it was too late—I had already seen it. I started giggling like a schoolgirl.
Nikolai groaned inwardly. “Don’t say anything. Hunter will kill me. Please act surprised.”
I nodded, but couldn’t hide my smile.
Nikolai pointed inside. “May I?”
“Of course.” I held the door open.
He entered and went straight to the dining table, where he sat down.
“Want anything to drink?”
He shook his head, and I was glad he didn’t suggest helping me as I poured some wine for myself—I was sick of everyone treating me like I couldn’t do anything anymore. When I finished, he gestured for me to sit down, ever the general.
“What is going on?”
“Has Jordan updated you on the trial?” His face betrayed nothing, unlike Jordan’s. But I could tell by the look in Nikolai’s eyes that it was serious.
I nodded, and my good leg started shaking under the table.
“It’s moved to the day after tomorrow,” Nikolai said.
My lips parted. “What?”
“And Jordan has refused to ask you for help,” he continued. “I know it’s extremely last minute. You’re only just released from the hospital, and Hunter told me you had to take it slow…”
“I want to help,” I interrupted him.
“That’s good to hear,” he responded, “because I think we need it. But Jordan has good reasons for refusing. And to be honest, I would never want to ask this of Hunter myself.”
Inhale. Exhale. “That doesn’t matter to me. I, like Hunter, can make that decision myself.”
Nikolai inclined his head. “That’s why I’m here.”
“What is it?”
“We want to use the translated Borzian documents in the trial. Nobody has seen them yet, and the information in them is invaluable. It’s enough to get Domasc to at least step down, probably even serve some time in jail. But your information will be out in the open if we use it all. And if we want to use it properly, we need you as a witness to declare where and how you found them—as well as what Tatiana Zander has told you.”
People would know I was a Borzian princess, and many would think of me as one.
“I know.”
Nikolai leaned back in his chair. “It’s dangerous. There’s a good chance some people won’t take it lightly—won’t even believe you.”
I nodded. “I understand.”
“It might result in you being stripped of your rank if we lose.”
Tightening my jaw, I looked away from him at the uniform I’d worked so hard for. “You might lose yours too.”
Nikolai nodded.
I swallowed. “The possibility had already crossed my mind. I might have an idea. One that might work around that and work toward securing Domasc’s downfall.”
“What is it?” he asked.
As I told him, I watched him mull it over—until he finally agreed it was worth a shot. A risky one, of course, but worth it.
Then, he asked me to go over the Borzian documents. My first instinct was to turn him down because, no, I was getting tired and didn’t want to see them. But I knew it would be necessary for court, so I sighed deeply and grimaced. “All right. Let’s get it over with.”
When we were done, my head started hurting again, and Nikolai gathered his stuff. “I will try my best to get your plan in motion. We will do everything we can to limit the damage. I’ll pick you up in the morning, and we’ll visit our attorneys and teach you about cross-examination and what you should and shouldn’t say. But the main objective is to take down Domasc.”
I nodded. “It’s long overdue.”
“Indeed,” Nikolai agreed.
“Give my love to Hunter,” I told him.
Nikolai turned around at the door opening and smiled with his eyes only. “We’ll get him, Raven.”
“Yes,” I promised. We godsdamned would.
* * *
Two days later, my clothing itched. I couldn’t stop touching my suit jacket, opening and closing the top buttons of my shirt, and smoothing my pants. The white suit I was wearing fit like a glove, and I had put on my leg brace over it. My leg was healing nicely thanks to the advanced drugs, but I still needed to use crutches to move. Lisa, the female attorney, had advised me to wear a dress to appear less threatening, but that wasn’t going to happen. I hoped Domasc felt threatened.
That was the intention.
I walked past the press into the courthouse and joined the people waiting to enter the room. Many soldiers had come to watch the high-profile trial, and many had heard about my injuries. I hadn’t put on any makeup, purposefully showing off the slash across my face that was a shade lighter red thanks to our enhanced drugs.
People should be reminded I was a survivor.
Kelian had offered to walk me inside, but I told him I would see him there. I wanted to walk alone.
I finally spotted a glimpse of Hunter. My heels clicked on the smooth, reflective surface, and I was glad to have put them on—even if my leg moved like a stiff board. They made me feel braver, just as knives and guns did. Clothes were weapons, too. It depended on the setting in which they were deployed.
Closer to Hunter, I noticed Nikolai and Kenneth Locke. She walked up to me and pulled me into a tight hug. “Are you ready?”
I smiled. “I think so.” I wasn’t, but saying it only made it real.
Nikolai looked at me and held out a hand to Kenneth Locke, gesturing from him to me. “Kenneth, Raven. Raven, Kenneth.”
I shook his outstretched hand. “Good to meet you, Deputy Locke.” He had the same eyes as his son.
“It’s Kenneth.” Kenneth Locke smiled warmly, his charisma shining through.
“Domasc came in through the back,” a too-familiar voice said, and Jordan emerged from behind Nikolai.
He stopped the moment he caught sight of me. “Raven?”
“Hi,” I replied sheepishly, and clasped my hands together. Has he seen the message I send? I hadn’t dared to open the chat box again to check.
“When did you get released from the hospital?”
“A few days ago.”
“Okay,” he said, nodding resolutely, but I saw the doubt in his eyes, the concern.
Kenneth Locke looked from his son to me and started grinning, making the whole situation more awkward.
Jordan stepped closer, blocking the other men from view. “Can I talk to you?” He gestured one hand to the side and placed the other on my back.
I nodded, letting him lead me away from the group.
“Shouldn’t you be resting, Raven?” Jordan asked, his eyes scanning my face.
“I’m taking it easy.” The urge to put a few strands of his hair back into style took me by surprise. I was deflecting, and he knew it.
“I could have kept you up-to-date on the process,” he murmured, taking my hand and running a finger over the bridge. Goosebumps erupted everywhere.
Distracted, I shook my head. “I couldn’t miss this. I have to be here, Jordan.”
“Listen, Raven.” He understood—always had. “I know you still need time, and I want you to know I won’t go anywhere. But I miss you. A lot.” His finger followed a path to my wrist, and my heartbeat quickened.
“Raven,” Nikolai called, and I looked around Jordan to see him beckoning me with Micah, the head attorney.
“Sorry, Jordan. I have to go now.” And I took my hand back to do just that.
Jordan blinked as if he was clearing his head. “What?”
“I have to go.”
His eyes widened. “You’re going to testify? No—” He grabbed my arm. “No, Raven.” But I carefully pulled my arm from his grip and walked to the group. Jordan followed and rushed towards Nikolai. “You went to her behind my back,” he said through clenched teeth.
Nikolai looked at him stoically. “Calm down, Jordan. Raven is her own person and doesn’t need a gatekeeper. You knew we would let her make her own decision.”
Micah and Lisa waited for me, and I nodded to them. We had gone over the whole trial, and I was ready. There was no time for this; we had bigger fish to fry.
I turned, lay my hand on Jordan’s neck, and kissed him on the cheek, dissolving the anger and irritation on his face. “I miss you too,” I whispered in his ear.
Then I walked away.