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OCTAVIA
Stretching out in bed, my body aches in the best kind of way as I yawn, thankful to be waking up in my own bed wrapped up in Maverick. It is considerably better than how I’ve woken up the last week and a half.
I check my phone and note how early it is, but the urge to run, to be free, to feel just how alive I am with that burn in my body, runs through me. I bring up my thread with Lincoln and drop him a message.
Me:
Want to go for a run?
I bite my lip, waiting for a response as I shimmy from the bed and head to the bathroom, trying not to wake Mav up. When I’m finished and there’s still no response from Linc, I realize that I still haven’t heard from Indi.
Son of a bitch.
I guess I’m not running today.
Today, I’m going to rain down some hell on Alexander Saint. He doesn’t get to take my goddamn bestie; I don’t give a fuck if it’s all tied into the Kings. What is the point of having the power that comes from being associated with the Knights if I can’t keep my goddamn friend out of this shit?
While I might not technically be a Knight, my guys are and Alexander should know fucking better. I might not have seen Lincoln or the others in the years I was gone from here, but I did see Alexander. He kept in touch with my dad after we left and he’d come visit sometimes.
Hell, I’m pretty sure I knew him better back then than Lincoln did. Though I had no idea about the whole gang, secret society shit. That must be part of why he stayed in touch with Dad.
I might despise everything that the Knights stand for—at least what I know of it—but am I going to use that shit to help Indi right now? You’re damn straight I am.
I tiptoe out of my room and downstairs as quiet as I can to where Smithy put my dad’s things. I know his journals have to be in here somewhere, so I start going through the boxes as quietly as I can.
I’ve avoided going through any of this since I came back, but if there’s information in here that can help me today, I am absolutely plowing through it. Even if my bruised heart gets a little more battered.
I find what I’m looking for in the fourth box.
Jackpot.
I skim through the pages, looking for something, anything, that might help.
I frown a little as I come across a passage about the Knights and Rebels. It brings up memories I’d forgotten about and I remember some of the stuff my dad told me about the Rebels, stuff Alexander would talk about when he visited with us.
My dad might not have told me about the Knights, but sometimes, when he drank too much, he’d get chatty. Hopefully some of what he told me will come in handy today. I'll do what I have to do to get Indi back, but I hope it doesn’t come to that.
I keep reading, shocked at how much my dad wrote down in here. There’s not much about the Knights, but this is like a memoir of all of the other shady shit that has been going down in and around the Cove. There’s stuff on the Rebels, the Kings, and other organizations I’ve never even heard of.
Alexander might only be a few months older than East, but there’s more than a few skeletons in his closet and, apparently, my dad knew a good few of them.
As much as it hurts to realize how much my dad kept from me—hurts to hear his voice in my head as I read his words—I’m thankful that this treasure trove exists… and that I haven’t told anyone about it. I grab all of the journals from the boxes, having only managed to get through a fraction of them in the hour I’ve been down here, and stash them in the vent in the music room. Pretty sure no one is going to look for them in there.
Me:
I assume you didn’t hear back from Alexander. I’m getting dressed, and I’ll be over in ten. We’re getting her back. Today.
Linc:
I’m awake. Making coffee. See you soon.
I jump in the shower, washing off the remnants of the last however long and the evidence of my night with Mav, washing my hair properly, though I’m pretty sure it’s a lost cause at this point.
I’m going to need to book an appointment with Gracie.
But that’s a luxury for later.
For now, I need to pull on all of that rage that sits in the well inside of me. If Alexander Saint wants a battle, I’ll give him one. Battered and bruised or not.
