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Chapter forty-three

Forest

K eeping a go bag crammed under my bed these last few months has proven to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. As beautiful as this gown is, tearing it off was such a relief.

Forcing it into the laundry hamper, I quickly throw on a dark, hooded jacket, black jeans, and a pair of boots. I'm hoping that everyone will be too busy continuing to celebrate Solstice so I can go unnoticed as I make my way out of the sector.

Xavier’s expression as I ran away lingers in my mind, eating at me. Fallan continues to call out to me faintly through my mind. It’s hard for me not to recall how much he hated me when we first met. He’s been cold and closed off for all the right reasons. I wish it were as easy for me to have felt the same way towards him. It all seemed so real.

But the memory of us meeting when we were little, of the dance we shared by the fire at Josh’s house, those were real. The connection between our minds is real.

As much as he’d like to hide our feelings in a box and lock away the key, he can’t ignore what has already happened.

With a tug, I yank the bag’s straps over my shoulders and move to open my bathroom window. It’s become easier for me to brace for the drop out the window since I've done it so much lately. My boots collide with the Earth. The street is silent as most people are either in bed or are still out celebrating Solstice. Making my way to the perimeter, I run my hands along the ward before taking off in a sprint through the trees, my body barreling past the piles of changing leaves.

The Unfortunate sector was around five miles away. I planned to get there on foot. My legs were already burning running, and I wasn’t even halfway.

I’ve not seen Mark for several days, unsure how to speak to the old man after discovering that he’s my grandfather. Each time I see him, I feel guilty that my father has robbed him of the opportunity to be a part of our family.

The forest is quiet, my path illuminated by starlight from the clear sky above. My lungs fill with the brisk air, my energy levels swirling, ready to find some form of release.

“You’re an idiot for leaving Xavier back there,” It hisses, finally breaking Its silence.

I draw in a deep breath, shaking my head.

“Xavier’s not like me,” I say, dodging a fallen log. “The only way we begin to understand this is by channeling whatever this is. Fallan is the only other person like us that we've met,” I say, hearing It laugh.

“You don’t understand anything about us, yet you think someone with so much disdain toward us will be willing to help?”

“Why can’t you just cooperate?” I question, trying to ignore Its overbearing presence.

“I do cooperate. I’m you. The only reason you can hear me as a separate sort of thing is because you refuse to embrace the other parts of yourself.” I scoff at the notion that this thing is truly a part of me.

“You’ve yet to tell me what other parts of myself I’m missing,” I mutter, snapping a hanging branch with a slight flick of my wrist.

“You hate what we are, deep down. As long as you do that, I will always be separated from you, and we will save no one.”

We both remain silent for a moment, the noise of my boots hitting the ground loud and repetitive.

“I don’t hate you,” I finally say, feeling a sense of relief wash over me.

“You don't have to hate me to fear this part of yourself,” It whispers, the words echoing in the chasm of my mind.

In an instant, my head fills with a pounding pain, my arm reaching out to grip the nearest tree. I clutch the side of my head, doing my best to focus on blocking out the drumming that reverberates through every part of my skull. The forest shutters beneath the touch of the wind, sounds amplified as I work through the pain.

The voice breaches my mind. The same voice from the Solstice festival.

“Can you hear me?” the male's voice questions, my knees threatening to buckle beneath the sheer use of force he’s using to get past my mental barriers. I crumple over into the dirt, feeling the pain subside with each passing second.

“Who was that?” It questions frantically, forgetting the hostility between us.

“I don't know,” I say, clenching my chest, gasping for air. “But I have a feeling we have a much bigger problem than we realized.”

I slip past the opening again, finding the same hole Kai and I utilized the last time we were here. With careful steps, I avoid disturbing the rubble on the ground, quickly moving in step with a stranger through the gate check, taking advantage of the sleeping Officials guarding the sector’s entrance. Drawing my hood tighter around my head, I focus my attention on remembering the way to Fallan’s building, doing my best to avoid unwanted attention. As much as I’d like to think I blend seamlessly in with the people in this sector, the reality is that there are differences between us. Where their backs hunch from years of work, mine stands tall. Where they stagger in their step from years of torture or unhealed injuries, I can see my steps are even and unburdened. Hardship is painted on the face of every Unfortunate I pass here.

I move for the nearest side street, planning to take as many backways as it takes to stay unnoticed.

“No! Please!” a young boy shouts, stopping me dead in my tracks. I peer down a narrow side street, nearly missing it had the boy not yelled. Two Officials lean over him, holding the boy down with the heels of their boots. He can’t be more than ten years old. His tiny form looks ready to break under the weight of the two Officials pressing down on him.

“I’ll go home. I swear. I didn’t realize curfew was in effect!” the boy pleads. I dart behind a nearby wall, waiting to see if they’ll let him go.

The men snicker, pressing their boots down harder on top of the boy. He winces in pain, and I'm sure he’ll have bruised tomorrow.

“Well, technically, you have two minutes before curfew begins,” one of the men says. My eyes watch his hand as it moves to grab his prod. “But this is still a valuable lesson for you to learn. Consider this a practice punishment. If you’re not early, you’re late,” he continues, smiling at his partner. They reach for their prods at the same time, and the boy begins to scream again. He tries to move out from under their hold but goes still when the light sensor prods come to life.

“I don’t know about you,” It whispers, my blood pumping adrenaline. “But now feels like a good time to let me out,” It says, dragging its hands along the mental cage I've trapped it in.

The boy starts to cry, his body bracing to be electrocuted.

Fuck.

I allow that unbridled part of myself freedom, feeling It embrace me like a warm hug. My hand flies out in front of me, latching onto the minds of both Officials, listening to their vile thoughts of how much they enjoy hurting the boy. With the rage of a thousand scorned soldiers, I take control of their weapons.

“They deserve to feel pain,” I affirm to myself, feeling the other part of me agree.

“Fight. The winner walks away without a broken leg,” I command, slowly backing away from the wall.

The man’s eyes meet, and they become tangled, focused on delivering blow after blow to one another. The boy scrambles to get away, watching the men with a look of shock, only lingering for a few seconds before taking off down the alleyway. I hear the men groan in pain, focusing on keeping their minds within my grasp. As they continue to hit one another, I find myself smiling with satisfaction.

Glancing at a puddle on the ground, I see my reflection. My eyes seem to gleam. Drawing in a deep breath, I force that other part of me back, feeling my energy start to fade as the men's fight suddenly becomes nothing but screams of pain and confusion.

“Better get going, princess,” It barks, pissed off to be shoved back so soon.

I turn away from the Officials, headed back on my path once more.

“Don't be angry that I didn't want them dead,” I hiss. Fallan’s building finally comes into view.

“It's comical, really,” It says, laughing.

“What is?”

“The fact that you don’t get it. I am a part of you. Nothing happens unless you want it. And you definitely wanted to hurt them. And if you think I’m murderous, then you’re murderous too. My desires are your desires. Self-awareness is a bitch for us, isn’t it?”

What the fuck is happening to me?

I knock on his door, my eyes shifting down the hallway, making sure I wasn’t followed. I can still see the singe on the ground from where the Shifter died. There’s a flickering light coming from under the door, casting shadows by my boots. Gradually, the locks begin to move, the hinges creaking as the door swings open.

With a sleepy expression, Fallan stands in the doorway, his hair a wild mess. His shirt looks like it was thrown on in a rush, barely covering his torso. At first, he looks over me with relief, only to grow more confused the longer we stand there. I peer inside his unit, my stomach sinking as I see movement in his bed. There’s a woman’s body warming his sheets and my imagination runs rampant as I notice the nail marks traveling up his left side.

“Why are you back here?” he asks, stepping outside the unit so as not to disturb whoever he’s clearly just hooked up with.

“You're the one who asked me to come here, Fallan,” I whisper angrily. His eyebrows crease as he shakes his head.

“You heard that,” he says in disbelief, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I was drinking after I got home and heard you with Blondie. I felt your panic-” he starts, a swell of conflicting emotions rolling off of him.

“I heard a man's voice,” he pauses, stopping his other train of thought. “Did you hear it, too?” he pushes, my head slowly nodding.

“I have no idea who it is. I only know it's the same voice-”

“From the festival. Yeah, I've gathered that much,” Fallan says sarcastically, back to being the asshole I've gotten to know so well.

He takes a moment to look me over, sighing gently.

“You should go home, Forest. You being here only makes things more difficult,” he says, crossing his arms out of frustration.

“I don't have anyone at home I can trust, and I can't say I trust you,” I start, ready to throw it all on the table. “But I need to understand whatever this thing inside of me is, and tonight, the only person I wanted to be around was you. So, forgive me if I’m a bit confused,” I finish, ready to leave this place and beg for Xavier’s forgiveness.

“You don't need to go back to that blonde twit,” he starts, taking another step toward me. “You’re falling down a rabbit hole you can't come back from. The more you keep coming back here, the harder it is to leave things the way they need to be,” he says, his hand raising as if he’s going to touch my face.

“I’m starting to understand that,” I say, meeting his deep blue eyes. “So, are you going to help me channel this fucking mess of energy, or am I going to have to keep playing target practice with Officials?” I question, his mouth pulling into the slightest of smirks.

He glances inside his unit.

“I'll grab my things, and then we can go. Wait out here.”

“Go where?” I question, watching him move inside.

“You’ll see.”

The outside of the building is run down, much like many of the other ones in this sector. With a swipe of Fallan’s ID, he gets us inside. Unlike his unit, this space has many large windows, each meant to bring in as much light as possible. Black bags swing from the roofs, some already broken free from chains. Soft mats coat the ground, adding to the smell of rubber lingering in the air.

Fallan tosses his duffel bag onto the floor. He’d changed into a black shirt and a pair of black pants. I watch him begin to wrap his knuckles with gauze, pacing around the space as he worked.

“What is this place?” I question, running my hand along the course material of the punching bags.

“A conditioning gym. Aren't there some of these in your sector?” he questions, my head already shaking.

“Not really an Untouchables thing. Our Defense Classroom is about the closest place to this I can think of,” I say, unsure at what point my people decided that focusing on physical fitness wasn’t worth the time.

Fallan moves away from his duffel, positioning a punching bag in front of him. With a nod of his head, he motions me closer, my arms already tingling in anticipation. His hand runs along the bag's surface, watching me move closer.

Once I’m within reaching distance, he grabs my hand, guiding it to the middle of the bag.

“You're going to hit here,” he starts, keeping my hand in his own as he wraps my knuckles. He winds the gauze tightly around my hands, carefully protecting each knuckle. “The first thing about controlling what we are is controlling the rage we carry with us,” he continues, my eyes glancing at his already red knuckles.

“Have you already been here today?” I question, running my thumb along the abrasions.

“I had a bit of extra motivation,” he shrugs, pulling away to give me and the bag space to move.

I stare at the massive punching bag that sways in front of me.

“I don’t know how to hit anything,” I say, his arms crossed as he watches me.

“Actually, you do. Well, sorry, I guess it’s really me who knows. Good thing I'm here,” It mutters, reaching out again to take some control.

My fist flies out in front of me, my legs positioned defensively beneath me. Hitting the bag with a burst of power behind the swing, the bag swings back, the chains releasing a high-pitched clang into the gym. Some of my anger is immediately satiated, and I can’t hide how satisfied I am.

I suck in air as his hands touch my waist. Moving my hips forward, he begins to fix my stance. His breath warms the spot behind my ear where my chip once existed. I lean into him as he squeezes my hips, his arm strung across my front, holding me to his chest.

“Come on, Little Dove,” he taunts, his lips grazing my ear. “I know you can reach deeper than that”

The vivid image of the woman in his bed passes through my mind.

That memory didn’t come from nowhere.

He sent me that image.

I pull myself away, my focus back on the bag. Readying myself, I let the other part of me take control again, feeling Its anger rise.

He wanted me to see that girl in his bed.

Dick.

Throwing another punch, I watch as the bag concaves beneath my hand, the material threatening to rip from the impact.

As the other part of me backs away into the recesses of my mind again, my body is drained once more. Leaning into the bag out of exhaustion, I take a deep breath, annoyed at my inability to maintain the strength to manage both parts of me for more than a few minutes.

“I thought you didn't care about Fallan,” I whisper angrily, observing the now misshapen punching bag.

“Maybe I’m not too fond of seeing another woman in his bed,” It nearly yells.

I’m glad there’s something we agree on.

“You're an asshole for showing me that,” I say, turning to see a smirk on Fallan’s face.

“I figured you needed some motivation,” he says, giving me an apologetic look I know is far from sincere.

“So that's your plan, then? Showing me all the women you’re hooking up with to fuck with my head?”

His eyes are no longer playful.

“I never complained each time I heard your thoughts about wanting Xavier to explore your body. I’d consider what I sent you as pretty tame compared to what I've had to listen to,” he says as he barrels to a stop just a few inches in front of me.

“I never reached out to you when I was with Xavier.”

“Well, then you were thinking of me and unable to put up a wall like the rest of us to stop yourself from broadcasting all your dirty fucking thoughts,” he growls, looking down at me with annoyance.

“How often are you putting up a wall so I don’t hear your thoughts about me?” I question, his head slowly shaking.

He leans down, his nose inches away from my own.

“Maybe I'll stop censoring my thoughts, and you can go as mad as I have,” he whispers, his voice void of any playfulness.

He moves to position himself in front of the bag I’d been hitting. The wall hiding his emotions comes down, and a wave of anger crashes into me. As he hits the bag, a flood of thoughts of Xavier runs rampant down our mental connection.

"Feed into your hate,” he says, his eyes bright as he continues to pummel the bag.

Suddenly, the bag tears away from its hinges, hitting the ground with a loud thud. We both step back from the bag, watching its contents spill onto the dirtied floor. He turns his head toward me, and the walls around his mind go up again, locking me out.

“Anger can be a great motivator,” he says, moving past me.

Grabbing my hand, he guides me closer to one of the mats on the floor, letting go once our feet meet the edge. Standing across from me, he watches me, motioning me to move closer.

Hesitantly, I join him on the mat, his body rigid as he readies himself in a defensive position.

“I've seen you fight in Defense Class,” he starts, my body instinctively moving to match his fighting stance. “Let's see what you can do outside of the classroom, Little Dove.”

Time and time again, Fallan takes me down, pinning me each time with a look of satisfaction. With growing frustration, I try to get away, watching the way he seems to know every single move I make before I have even thought of them. Angrily, I pull myself away from the ground, readying myself to claim defeat once more.

“You look sort of cute when you're frustrated,” he mocks, my anger rising.

“Perhaps I should go wake Valerie and have her beat your ass too.”

“It was Valerie?”

It tried to resurface, but I’ve got all the anger I need right now.

Unable to play nice anymore, I force his leg to the mat with a wave of my hand, watching his wide-eyed expression grow as my leg rises, striking him in the chest with a swift kick. Flying back onto the mat, he raises his hands, ready to use his gifts on me. His silent ability to slip into my mind is much more aggravating at this moment.

I don't give him the opportunity.

Shoving my body atop his own, I place my knees along his arms and at the side of his head, taking away his range of motion. Straddling his chest, I grab his chin, forcing him to stay down as the beast beneath my skin roars.

“I’m starting to see why Xavier is such good fuel for your rage.”

His mouth curls into a smile. A smile I so rarely see. Gradually, he begins raising himself from the mat, moving my body back and onto his lap. We sit up, and his hands come to rest behind my back. My heart races as I adjust my hips, feeling more than just his legs beneath me now, the presence of his cock more noticeable as I continue to reposition myself.

“Your wall is fully down, Little Dove,” he says, his hand pressing my lower back, urging me closer.

“I can hear every sinful thought running through your mind,” he whispers, my face reddening as I try to slip past his wall.

Dragging my hand along his chest, I adjust my hips atop him once more. His wall comes crashing down, and his thoughts of tasting my lips pass through my mind.

“You're getting better,” he whispers, slowly moving me off of him. "Though that thought wasn't yours to have,” he continues helping me up, both of us flustered from being so close to one another.

“So, Blackburn, now that I know what motivates you,” a coy grin lines his face. “Let’s see just how angry I can make you.”