Page 30

Tomoe

T he sun was out and bright as ever, yet I found myself strolling through the mists of the alleyways and homes nearest The Kitchens. Thin rivulets of water traced along the gutters, vanishing into the stone like veins. The air smelled fresh, damp, carrying the scent of earth and growing things.

It was a great decision on Amaia’s end. Helping the sustainability through technology with a touch of magic in order to utilize the hands that would care for the greenery elsewhere in The Compound. That was how things were these days. Focused on maximizing efforts and exhausting what resources we had.

This little cove of apartments was my favorite. The wrought-iron gateway that serves as an entryway to a sliver of Mediterranean architecture calmed my nerves. Something in me unraveled, thread by thread, until I was just hollow. The strain on my magic was unforgivably taxing on my mental state. Yet, I found no rest when I had a moment to sleep. My mind kept pulling, tugging, yearning for me to fall victim to the world it wanted to show me.

Here—as far ‘in nature’ I could get—was quiet.

There were no kids playing out on the cobblestone, pretending to play Mortals and Zombies. Those days were long gone. Instead, the children of Monterey Compound spent their time preparing for the real thing. Screams of faux terror were a thing of the past. If they were playing, they were working on how to survive, walking through our city as silent as can be. Moving with grace and stealth. It was dystopian as hell.

The windows of the homes that were usually left open for fresh air were shuttered closed. Doors of homes one could freely walk into were now locked. The smiles of the citizens here had the unpleasant resemblance of the forced ones in The Before. With the world around me having changed so much, I yearned for a moment of reprieve where my mind would stop telling me just how bad shit was about to get.

I faltered mid-step. The ground tilted beneath me as my vision smeared like wet paint. The greenery around me blew in the wind around slow and warped. Stretched. My feet refused to move the way I commanded. Not this shit again . Bracing myself against the rough stucco, I tried to shake the fog from my mind. Willing the creeping shadows at the edge of my sight to retreat. I refused to fall out in the middle of The Compound.

Pushing my body forward, I staggered toward the closest place I’d feel safe. A place where no one could see me break. Whatever the universe was intent on me seeing, wanting my attention, and it wanted it now. The clarity of what I saw had intensified since power sharing with the others. After Reina, I not only saw , but felt. Experienced the emotions of others as I peered through their eyes. Not in the same way. Certainly not on the same level that it was when I shared my magic with hers directly—but the clarity in which I received them took more out of me than I was accustomed to.

Short of breath, the door opened with ease. Alexiares never locked his shit. He didn’t have to. No one would dare enter without his permission. And he enjoyed the taunt of giving them the chance. There was excitement when he’d explained his reasoning to Amaia over dinner. The chase that would ensue if someone decided they were dumb enough to cross that barrier would make his fucking year.

Sterile. That was the best way to describe the way he chose to keep his space. There was no sign he’d used it, but I knew he was around whenever he wasn’t with Amaia or Riley. Sharp tools hung on the walls, perfectly aligned. The desk? Immaculate. Not a speck of dust. Everything screamed untouchable. Except the corner. Dog bowls and a nest of blankets. The only thing messy, real, about Alexiares’s study. I slung Wrath off my back and pressed it on the ledge of the desk, supporting my weight and testing the sturdiness of the chair.

“I got it.” It was Abel’s voice. A brown hand raised in front of his face, pistol cocked, his finger on the trigger. He pulled it twice. Whimpers ensued. Shaky breaths begged him for mercy.

“Covert, out,” he said. His voice held no strength. There was hesitation there. Like he was acting against his interests in carrying out this task. “Or I … well, out now before he decides what to do with you. Everyone else, decide who’s driving. We’ll see you tonight. South Gate.”

Abel’s head turned slightly, and he watched Alexiares take his retreat away from the van. He glanced back up and held Reina’s tearful stare. She looked back inside at the occupants of the van and offered them a sympathetic nod.

I lost my footing. Knees buckling and kissing the hard, cold floor. My mind felt as though it were splintering in half. It wanted me to focus on the vision. On my mission. But I was so fucking tired. It was hard, recovering from emptying my power reserves to near drops of magic in order to stabilize Lilia. She’d fallen dangerously close to losing it all. My tether had saved her, kept her from needing the help of Henry and the other healers. If there was anything that could even be done at that point. When it came to magic, a healer made no difference. Only brought comfort from the pain of running your tank too low.

The deep rumble of an engine cut through the stiff, hot air inside the car. It was low. Angry. Dust kicked up the windows as we tore down the road. The Compound sat shadowed in the distant night. Wild, blue eyes of the teenage boy in the passenger seat sent the thrill of excitement through my stomach. He leaned forward like he could will the car to go faster.

“Do they know the plan?” I asked, my voice high in pitch. A woman.

The answer came quickly. “Yeah. They know.”

A fist pounded on the door. Once. Twice. Three times—followed by a chorus of whoops. They were obnoxiously loud. Giddy. Like this shit was some sort of game.

Pain seared through my cheekbone. My face rested against the cold, stone floor in Alexiares’s study. The chill of it bit into my skin. Oxygen slipped from my reach, my chest heaving with sharp, frantic pulls. Disjointed flashes of the future flickered inside my mind. My eyelids fluttered erratically. Too heavy. Threatening to never open again.

Time of day did not exist down here. Hunger pains and dehydration sent my nerves and muscles into a frenzy. They clenched, then released. Ate away the fat on my body. Parasitic to my flesh.

Alexiares tilted his head, blood smeared around his mouth from the dripping gore of his hands. He glanced toward Riley who looked on. Watching. His arms crossed tightly over his chest. The kind, brown eyes he stared through each day were hardened. A lump slid down his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing. The veins of his forehead were strained.

Guilt washed over me. How could I feel such a thing? Sobs came from either side of me. Something horrible had happened.

“We didn’t know! We didn’t know. They were going to leave us,” an older man begged. “He said as long as we kept our mouths shut, they’d take us to Monterey. We wouldn’t have survived out there on our own. Without food or water. Weapons.”

“Once you knew you were safe, you should have spoken up,” Alexiares said, bored.

Riley shook his head, doing his best to keep it together. “There is no room at Monterey Compound for traitors or Covert sympathizers. I’m sorry, Rolfe, there’s nothing I can do. There’s nothing I want to do.”

The older man held his head in shame. Alexiares caught me staring and pounced. His fist connected with my jaw first. The pain whitening. Radiating. I took two in the temple and could no longer see the hits that followed.

“Enough,” Riley said. His command was calm. Quiet. Muted. Alexiares was off all the same.

“Henry’s wife is dead because of this fucker and his silence.” Alexiares growled, panting from the burst of energy. “Your friend—Margot. Children died.”

I laughed, “Weak. All of you.”

“He’s not worth losing control. We’re better than that.”

“You’re better than that,” Alexiares emphasized.

“Please,” a smaller voice begged, out of sight. “You have to understand. Our choice was not a simple one. We risked our ability to stay either way.”

“There wasn’t a guarantee that you wouldn’t clump us together anyway, Riley. We fought our way to the gate that night together. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have turned back to help you, I could have left you.”

“Maybe you should have,” Riley said and turned on his heels.

Alexiares’s gaze swept the room. Slow and deliberate. His eyes never lingered long on any one person but always flickered back to mine. Assessing. Searching. Like he could peel back every layer, strip you down. His expression went unchanged, but the weight of his judgment was suffocating. He’d already damned us all. Guilty or not. It didn’t matter. We were never meant to plead our case. I could only feel sorry for those who had not known the gravity of the chaos we’d been sent to ensue.

Amaia and Reina entered the room. Riley held the door open, but no one moved, no one dared. The storm in Reina’s eyes was alive. Her face flushed, crackling with heat as she took us in. No mercy lay in her stare. No pity like there was when she looked at someone who was bad but chose to find the good. Blood seeped into her clothing in the shape of a clinging child. Small hand prints desperate for grip dragged down her skin, her shirt, her pants.

Amaia was different. Her face wasn’t blank the way Alexiares’s was. It was alive with emotion. Fury radiated from her. Not loud or wild, but silent. The kind that promised death. She moved slowly, pacing before each of us, studying each of our faces in a way that told me she could see every secret, every sin. Then, without a word, she turned and left, Reina in her wake.

“Executions at dawn,” Alexiares’s voice was casual. A crooked smirk that didn’t reach his eyes pulled at his lips. “Sleep tight, fuckers.”

Electricity snapped through my nerves. A thunderstorm raged around my skull. I lost control, neurons firing in patterns that didn’t belong to me anymore. The world shrank to the size of a pin. Each of my thoughts were scattered. Torn up the way paper would in a hurricane. Heat bloomed behind my eyes. Blinding. Sharp. My muscles betrayed me, pulling taut and slack in uneven ways.

I could not speak. Could not scream. Couldn’t even fucking cry. All I could do was drown in the chaos of my own body. I was trapped inside myself. Utterly, hopelessly, alone. Helpless.

“Tomoe,” the voice was distant. It didn’t sound real. A mere figment of my imagination.

“Tomoe.”

Someone was there, shaking me, their urgency cutting through the haze. Their touch was a tight squeeze that forced the sensation back into my body. Light. There it was. That blinding, small sliver of vision returning as my eyelids found the strength to move on their own. The haze cleared.

Tomás’s figure came into sharp focus. His shirt was soaked with the sweat of panic—clinging into his lean and annoyingly sturdy body. Instead of panic in his brown eyes, there was a maddening sense of calm. His gaze was fixated on me. Equal parts sharp and soft.

The usual stupid smirk he bore each time I saw him was gone, a tight line replacing it. He cradled me in his lap. I groaned, shaking myself back to reality. Fuck . I overdid it. Expelled too much magic too soon. A warm hand cupped my chin, tilting it up as his brows pinched in scrutiny.

Sunlight spilled across a tiny living room filled with books. Laughter curled through the air thicker than smoke, and there he was, standing too close, his hand brushing against mine as I reached for my cup of tea. Tomás had an easy grin. A carefree disposition that was a rarity in my life.

I snapped back, breath sharp in the depths of my chest as Tomás’s face blurred into focus. His hand was on my arm, steadying. I wrenched away. He didn’t burn me but his touch felt like a punishment of pleasure. “I’m fine. Never seen someone have a vision before?”

“No.” He chuckled and helped me sit up. “Though I’m positive that was a seizure, my friend.”

“What are you, a doctor?”

“Well, not here no. I worked as a paramedic before though and?—”

“So not a doctor,” I mumbled. The sun still lit up the room, I hadn’t been down for long. “Got it.”

Tomás recoiled as though I’d struck him, the warmth behind his golden skin absent. “Did I do something? To offend you, I mean.”

I flicked my gaze toward him and took him in. He had a ruggedness to his otherwise put together appearance. A faint trace of a healed scar cut from his neck and under his shirt. He’d certainly been through some shit, that much was clear. And I had no intention of finding out what woes he’d nearly lost to. There was little interest I had in spending time with anyone outside of my family. It wasn’t worth the pain. Life had more to offer than romantic love. Who the hell said anything about romance? Dammit.

“Other than constantly invading my space … no.”

“This is Alexiares’s office,” Tomás said with hesitation. He pushed himself to his feet and scanned the room, his hand swiping across his low-buzzed hair. “And the first time was in Reina’s lab.”

That stupid little smirk had returned to his face. I scoffed, pressing my hands into the ground to summon the strength to stand on my own. “Their space is my space.”

“Understood.”

“What are you doing?” I asked, watching him get far too comfortable in the metal chair behind Alexiares’s desk.

He shrugged, the tightness of his fucking t-shirt uncomfortably distracting. “Waiting for Alexiares.”

“And you have to do that here because …”

“Because it’s his office, and it’s where he told me to meet him when he gets back this afternoon.” Tomás was cocky, and I utterly despised the way I found his cheekiness endearing. “If I’m making you uncomfortable, you always have the option to leave.”

I dug my fingers into my sides as a way to hold back and cut him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. Each muscle in my jaw pulled tight, straining to the point of rupture. “I’m not uncomfortable. I’m working. Some of us have jobs to do around here.”

“You make the statement as though we aren’t all required to serve The Compound in some capacity.”

“Yours is …” I asked, arching my embarrassingly over plucked brows. Complimentary to Reina’s anxiety and general boredom.

“Originally it was bionics. Engineering nanomechs—tiny machines that adapt and rebuild on the fly. Specialized in war tactics and adaptive weapons. Think the Shadowstep and Plasma blades. Nothing fancy.”

“I know what nanomechs are. You don’t have to explain it to me.” I did not understand nanomechs. Hadn’t even ever heard the word.

“No, you don’t.” His smirk turned into a cheshire grin.

“‘Yours is,’ is present tense.” I ignored his call out. “Let’s try that one more time.”

“I work for Alexiares.”

“Now that is something I couldn’t see coming. Sounds ominous. Wish I cared enough to ask for more detail.”

Tomás chuckled, the sound low and easy. I bit down the urge to join him. Then the air shifted, tension creeping back in.

“Your vision seemed intense,” Tomás said finally, his voice careful. Too careful for my taste. I was not a wounded doe.

“Just tired is all.”

“Looks it.”

I rolled my eyes and took a step back, hair falling in front of my face. “Thanks. I’ll go now.”

“Wait.” His fingers twitched, caught between impulse and restraint, as my hand dropped to Wrath resting against the desk. “I didn’t mean it that way. I only meant that you seem like you could use a break.”

“Breaks are time wasted. Amaia will be back soon and she’ll expect resolution.”

“Resolution to what?” Confusion contorted his defined features.

“If I have a vision that is a product of a problem, I present Amaia with options for resolution,” I snapped, tone tight with frustration. “She has enough on her plate as is. Going to her and asking her to interpret the shit inside my head so I can go back to try to make an accurate prediction of the future benefits no one. All it does is waste time.”

He stared at me. Face blank and void of all emotion with each slow blink in the absolute silence of the room.

“What?”

“Nothing. Your voice … It’s nice.” He leaned his head to the side, bemused. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you speak.”

“Because having you ask more questions wastes time,” I shot back with a hint of humor.

Give a man an inch, he’ll fucking propose. A bright smile shined back at me. “How can I help?”

“You don’t.”

“Oh, come on. I have nothing to do until he gets here. Besides, now I’m curious about how the whole vision thing works. Not a lot of you all out there.”

I glanced at him out the side of my eyes as I lowered myself back to the floor, back against the wall for support. “Fine. Keep quiet. And stop breathing so hard, it’s throwing off my focus.”