A secret entrance in the wall leads down a darkened corridor to another surprise door, which opens with an electric whoosh. In place of the bare white décor, the walls are a warm brown with traditional artifacts tastefully hung throughout. Incense wafts around us, though I don’t see any burning.
But truly, none of what’s in the room matters until Hunter walks in. Then, she’s all that matters.
She’s more beautiful in person. Her gravity draws the attention of everyone when she enters and renders us nothing but orbiting satellites. Taylor stands at my side, extremities twitching. Patricia enters after Hunter and speaks in whispers to the remaining soldier.
“Get over here.” Hunter inspects her younger partner, dragging her eyes up and down Taylor’s body with an affectionate grin. “Damn, not such a kid anymore.”
“Did they hurt you?”
“These lightweights?” Hunter gestures toward the brawny gentleman brooding in the corner and chuckles. “Please. Now, come on, it’s been two years. Break the rule for me, huh?”
She pulls Taylor close and hugs her tightly around the shoulders. Taylor doesn’t look as awkward in this hug as she has in others. She tucks her head beneath Hunter’s chin and holds on. The only sound in the room is my selfish heart breaking into a million pieces. A pain so exquisite, so pure and undiluted, I could bottle and sell it.
Hunter squeezes Taylor, and a tear or two spills out into Taylor’s hair. They stand like that for a while, in an embrace that looks like the setting of the sun into the water. A perfect fit. It’s so intimate I want to avert my eyes, but I couldn’t possibly look away.
“A rare Taylor hug. You really did miss me.”
“I’m happy you’re safe.” She casts a wary glance at Wolfshield and lowers her voice. “I am sorry I let this happen to you, and I am sorry I could not get here sooner. Theia wouldn’t let me.”
“Hey, it’s fine.” Hunter pats Taylor on the back. “No apology needed. It’s a war, kid. Shit happens. And, from what I hear, you’ve been kicking ass. I’m proud of you.”
She freely gives Taylor the praise she so obviously craves from Theia, and Taylor stands up straighter. “Thank you. I’m very glad to have you back. Go get packed.”
Hunter huffs out of a laugh. “That’s it? I haven’t seen you in like two years and it’s all business?”
“No time,” Taylor says, somewhat apologetic. “Theia asked that the negotiations go quickly, as we are needed back as soon as possible. I will speak with Leader Wolfshield privately as you pack.”
Handsome Soldier steps forward. “There is no private audience with Leader Wolfshield.” It isn’t necessarily threatening, but it sure as hell isn’t friendly.
“I do not need your permission, soldier,” Taylor responds icily. There is fire in that ice, to be sure. Her chest rises and falls thrice, purposefully stretching out her fingers at her side.
Hunter plants her gaze on him and raises a hand. “It’s fine, Ahote. Trust me when I say if Taylor wanted to kill us, we’d be dead already.”
Taylor ignores the semi-compliment, still glaring at Ahote. “Miss Piccolo, accompany Hunter, please. See to it she’s not prevented from retrieving her belongings.”
Oh, goody, what a treat. Hunter raises her eyebrows. “Luciana Piccolo as my own private guard. I can’t tell if I moved up in the world or you moved down.” Suddenly, her eyes light up. “Hey, where’s Mason?”
“He lost part of his arm back in the MidCountry,” Taylor says. “He’s at HQ recuperating.”
The former captive whistles. “Shit. Did Maria go with him?”
Taylor nods. “Yes. Miss Piccolo arranged for it.”
“Mighty kind of you.” Hunter walks around Taylor to stride toward me, and sticks her hand out. “Hunter.”
“Lucy.”
“Nice to meet another kidnapping victim,” Hunter replies with a chuckle. “It’s kind of embarrassing, right?”
“I consider us prisoners of war.” I force a smile on my face. “The optics are better.”
“I like how you think, Piccolo.” Hunter winks at me. “Makes us seem more important, you know? And maybe less like we got caught with our pants down.”
Patricia walks forward and Taylor follows her step carefully, as if the leader is going to cut us both down as we stand across from one another. “Luciana. Didn’t you turn out to be a beautiful young woman? You’re the spitting image of your mother.”
I blush. “Thank you.”
“I was a guest of your father’s many years ago. You were barely waist-high. Do you remember?”
