Page 46

The Lost Boys

I follow after my father silently, Thorn and Maxen at my side where they belong.

Now, all we need is our other two men and we will be complete.

It makes me realise how vulnerable and alone I felt without them earlier.

It’s crazy how things have changed since they entered my life, where I used to only ever want to be alone, now the thought scares me.

We stop outside a door that looks exactly the same as all the others.

My father turns to look at us, his face closed down apart from a disapproving frown pulling at his lips.

“You did not have to threaten my men to get here. I am your family, not them. I just wanted some time with you,” he scolds. I don’t even spare him a look, but I do answer as I walk past.

“They protected me out there, while you lived down here in your safety. I would burn this place to the ground to get to them again. They are more my family than you are, blood or no blood.”

I approach the door but it doesn't open like the others, I hunch my back and grit out, “Open the door,” I say, trying really hard to control my anger and panic.

“Taza–”

“Open the door, now!” I shout, everything boiling over. I am so close to exploding.

I hear a shuffle and beeping as he does something to the panel next to me, but my eyes remain locked on the door like it’s my lifeline.

“There. Now Taz–”

“Don’t follow us in,” I warn.

Not waiting for his reply, I step closer to the door which opens automatically this time.

This room is similar to the one I was held in, but has more machinery and hospital equipment dotted around.

Jax rises from his brother’s bedside, his head snapping to the door, the look in his eyes is dark.

When he sees me, they drain of any darkness and soften, the grey swirling with so many emotions.

I hiccup out a breath, and we both rush to each other.

I end up in his arms, lifted into the air as we kiss desperately, our lips smashing together, getting all our fear and panic across better than any words ever could.

The kiss soon turns softer, a reassurance, until he pulls away and rests his forehead on mine, and we talk silently with our eyes.

I drink in his face, trying to tell him how much I missed him, how much I love him.

Nodding, he kisses my forehead, a beautiful smile on his face.

He gently puts me on my feet before taking my hand as we turn to Drax who is laying deadly still in the single bed.

“Is he okay?” I whisper, like how loud I talk will make a difference. My eyes stay locked on his still form. It’s eerie.

“They said so, apparently he's being sedated to help reduce brain swelling,” Jax says equally soft.

I drag him with me as I stop at his twin’s bedside. Bending over, I sweep Drax’s hair from his forehead. Leaning further down, my hand still firmly clasped in Jax’s, I sweep a kiss over his forehead.

“Wake up soon, cutie,” I whisper, unwilling to say everything I need to without those eyes of his open and watching me with mischief like always.

I sit on the bed next to him, watching for any movement. His personality is nowhere to be found, and he seems so much smaller without it.

“He will be okay, baby. He wouldn’t dare leave you,” Jax says as he stands next to me, protecting us both. I nod and lean my head on Jax’s side, absorbing his strength. Maxen rounds the bed and stands on the other side, Thorn following closely behind.

“What's the plan, Worth?” Maxen’s eyes flick behind me, making me look and see that my father has followed us in. I frown at the name, but a smile blossoms when I realise he is showing me how he defers to my authority, displaying respect and acknowledging who I am. I hide my smile as I look at him.

“We stay until Drax is awake, then we need to get back for The Summit before Dray goes on a murder spree.”

Thorn grins. “He is starting to grow on me.”

I groan and roll my eyes, just what I need.

“You’re leaving?” My father's voice interrupts our little meeting, making me freeze at the reminder of everything.

“Yes. I have people depending on me.” Leaning forward again, I kiss Drax's lips, uncaring that my father is watching.

“I’ll be back soon, give them hell.” I stand and let go of Jax’s hand, needing to do this next thing on my own. I turn and face my father, calmer now that I’ve seen my men .

“We need to talk. Is there somewhere we can go?” There, that was polite.

He nods before looking at the men surrounding me. “Your…friends can wait here.” I don't correct him, just follow him from the room with one last look back at my men.

I don't look around this time; I just follow him as he leads me through corridor after corridor until I’m lost. He stops at a white door and inputs a key code into the panel next to it. I memorise it just in case. With a frown, I realise it is my birth date.

The room he leads me into is stunning, so different from the rest of the facility I have seen so far.

A mahogany desk takes up one corner with two chairs in front of it, and a recliner behind it.

Green felt covers the surface with books and what looks like maps laying on top.

A floor to ceiling bookcase is on the left wall, with an old-school globe and radio next to it.

To the right is a huge fireplace with a fur rug in front, and a large wingback black leather chair angled to look into the flames when lit.

A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, only adding to the decadence that is this room.

Where my father walks around it comfortably, I feel like a medieval warrior, bumbling and out of place. Just like I am in his life.

It’s easy to compare it to Major’s office.

Where there I felt happy, and even safe, this makes me feel like an outsider and on edge.

It makes me look at my father again, comparing him to the other father figure in my life.

Where Major adapted and survived in this world, my father hid away, and stayed soft from what I can see.

Major is suave, but knows darkness and brutality.

My father seems to still believe we are in the old world, if the decorations are anything to go by.

It reminds me of myself a little, how I was burying my head in the sand.

Maybe he did the same? Tried to forget? It was probably easy in this place.

No reminders, no slaves, no fighting. Instead of brutality, they have politeness and manners.

It makes me wonder what my father’s reactions to the horrors of my past would be.

I walk towards the desk and slump in the chair opposite it.

He sits down stiffly behind it, playing with the papers on top.

I watch him, seeing the nerves. I look at what he’s playing with and do a double take.

It’s a hand drawn map of the Wastes. There are the four settlements drawn on it and an X, which I’m guessing is for our location, but everything is unnamed and some are slightly in the wrong place.

Another one of what looks to be another place flashes underneath, making me frown.

How did he get these? Does this mean he has been out there?

“You obviously go outside, but you don't seem to know much about the clans or what goes on outside these walls. Which reminds me, where the fuck are we?”

He flinches at my swear word before throwing me a frown. “Do we need to use such vulgar language?”

“If you have a fucking issue with my language, you sure as shit aren’t going to like me as a person,” I say with a bitter laugh, adding more as he calls it ‘vulgar’ language in there for good measure.

“Tazanna–”

“It’s Worth, I told you,” I grit out. He waves his hand impatiently.

“Fine, Worth. I guess your questions are a good place to start, albeit a bit vague and improperly framed.” God, what a condescending asshole.

Was he always like this and my childish love for my father just blinded me to it?

“We do go outside, for supply runs and to map terrain. We do not, as you say, interact with the people out there much.” He says people like a dirty word as if he would rather use another.

Oblivious to my anger, he carries on. “I do not understand what you mean by clan in this context. If you are referring to the grouping of those animals, we are aware there are different kinds. We did not know they had names. We tend to avoid them at all costs, and just get in and out.”

“Those animals ,” I sneer the word, mocking his use of it, “as you call them, are my friends, family, and survivors. They may not be perfect, or good enough for this place, but they are what the world is now. Brutal, unforgiving, and fucking desolate. So you might not like them, but you will show them some fucking respect, or I will leave before you can get your piece out like you so clearly want to. Where were you headed when you found us?” I ask suspiciously.

He was very close to Worshippers’ territory.

He watches me, searching for answers before sighing and nodding.

“I apologise, the thinking down here is quite different to yours, clearly. I would be happy to be enlightened by you. To carry on, this place is a sanctuary. An old government underground bunker made to survive wars and store the best parts of humanity.” He ignores my question, and I make note to ask again later.

“How did you find it?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“I did not. I awoke here two weeks after you were taken.”

The mood plummets at the reminder, and my anger at him abandoning me to the Waste as a child returns.

“Taz…Worth…I would have come for you. I just got so caught up down here and I didn’t know where to start…” He trails off as I stand, bracing my hands on his desk.

“Do not bullshit me. If I knew you were alive, nothing would have stopped me from coming for you. Do not lie to me, I am not a child. Admit you were scared, admit you were weak, that you were a pussy who would rather hide away and pretend none of it ever happened. At least I can understand that guy, but the lying is a no go.”

He nods and gestures at my seat. I sit, my hands gripping the edge to stop me from throwing something.

Of all the ways I used to imagine things going if I ever saw my father––if he was alive like I’d wished for every night––this is not it.

But I am not that child, I am jaded and cold, and he is weak and using logic as a weapon.

At least I’m honest about what I am. I just wish he was the man I remembered.

I guess it was inevitable that he would let me down, like so many others.

I don't seem able to rely on anyone but the guys.

“You’re right. I was scared. I kept putting it off, making excuses until I forgot why I couldn't go after you.

I even told myself you were dead, and that was for the best. It allowed me to function, and survive.

Not live. I couldn't do that after I lost you both. But I survived. It might not be in the way of you and your friends, but I did.”

We both go silent, lost in our own thoughts and unsure how to go from here. I would be a fool to blind myself with my anger after I demanded the truth. My men taught me that running won’t change anything, and that life is too short for regrets. The least I can do is offer him something.

“Look, I don't want to push you away. No matter what, you are still my father. But you must understand I am a grown woman now, I have responsibilities and people depending on me. More than you know. My life has not been secret gardens and children playing. It changed me and I am thankful that I can keep some semblance of happiness. Arguing won't fix the past.” I stop, trying to make sense of my rambling. “What I am trying to say is, if you had met me before those men in there got to me, I would have walked away and never looked back. Sands below, I would have probably attacked you and then stole everything from you to sell for booze. I am growing, learning, and it’s thanks to them…my family. I can't change the past, but maybe you can be in my future. I don’t know. We need to figure each other out. Unfortunately, I do not have the time. I have to get back, lives depend on it.”

His face falls, but I’m betting Major would have been proud at my eloquent speech. I was honest, brutally so, I guess the guys are rubbing off on me more than I knew.

“Okay. I don't know what miracle brought you to me, but I won't look a gift horse in the mouth. I will thank God and move on.” I snort, and he raises an eyebrow at me. “You do not believe in God?”

“No. I can't believe in a being that would allow such darkness, death, and pain into this world.” We go silent again, our differences so glaringly obvious, so many questions spanning the space between us.

“Tell me about your life. What do you have to get back to? I would like to be a part of it, in any way I can. Maybe I can help?” He leans back, his hands behind his head as he observes me. I blow out a breath and work through my thoughts, deciding on what to tell him.

“There has been a Summit, a gathering or meeting, called between the clans. I have to be there to keep the peace.”

“Why is there a meeting?” he asks, his eyes lighting up at the puzzle I’m presenting.

“Because the Wastes are descending into war again. We are trying to stop it before it's too late,” I say while rubbing my head, whatever medication they gave me is obviously starting to wear off and I feel like shit.

He leans forward, his eyes imploring me to trust him. “Tell me everything.”

I think about it, but he seems sincere enough, telling him things that people topside already know isn’t breaking any trust. I outline the clans, using the map and give him a rundown.

I glaze over my role and past, leaving out a lot just in case.

I can almost hear his brain working a mile a minute, trying to figure out the missing gaps, ways to achieve my goal, and what this all means.

It’s strangely nice. I let some of my anger go and focus on things I can change, and he stops being an ass and is actually helpful.

“How long until this...Summit?” he asks, deep in thought.

I count the days in my head. “Six days, give or take a day.”

He stands, determination in every line of his body and face, his eyes filled with a fire they didn't hold before, and as much as I don't want to admit it, they look like mine.

“Then we need to prepare you. Get all of you healthy, and see about ways we can help. It is time we became a part of this world again, maybe you are the catalyst for that.”