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I winced and strode toward the main building, right through the open door. Heads snapped my way, widened eyes fixed on me from the few Daughters who were still awake. I never even looked at them, just headed straight for the kitchen.
Coffee…
I needed coffee.
And to think.
I’d find us a way out of this if it was the last thing I did.
I grabbed a mug and poured the black, thick-looking brew into the damn thing. The moment I did, all I could hear was the crack of a gunshot. Then in my mind I replayed the moment Walker had fallen with a thud to the filthy concrete beside me.
He’d been loyal.
He’d been so goddamn loyal. I braced my hands on the edge of the counter and rocked forward. Get away from me, Mel. Why the hell are you always around me. Can’t you see I want to be on my own?
A boy’s voice echoed in my head, replaying the words which haunted me.
No.
I shook my head.
This wasn’t happening.
Not now.
I’ll find a way out of this. I’ll?—
“It’s not your fault.”
I slowly lifted my head as the icy bite of rage returned. “What the fuck did you say to me?”
Thomas stood in the entrance to the kitchen, watching me. “I said…”
I crossed the floor, grabbed him by the shirt, and yanked him forward. “Say one more goddamn thing and it’ll be the last time you speak. Do you understand?”
His shirt was twisted in my grasp, but he never fought me. He knew that was pointless.
“You don’t say that to me, got it?” I shoved him away, my pulse roaring in my ears as I repeated. “You don’t say that. Not to me…ever.”
I pushed him aside and stormed out, leaving behind the coffee I’d just poured. I needed to get away, away from him and those fucking words. They were not what I needed, now or ever. He could save his shrink talk for his goddamn patients.
Get away from me, Mel. JUST GET AWAY!
The thud of my boots was like fists against my chest as I strode through the building, searching for a place to hide. Dull lights flickered, calling me. I stopped at the small communications room, glancing along the bank of monitors to the three computers alight.
The big bastard watching the cameras lifted his head and glared at me.
“Let him through.” The guttural command came from behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder to the bearded asshole in charge, the one who’d mere minutes ago had a steel bar across his throat. He hated me, that I knew. Still, he glanced at the merc behind the monitors. “I’m trusting you here, Cruz. Don’t make me regret it.”
He lingered for a heartbeat then turned and walked away, leaving me behind.
Why the fuck would he do that?
I winced, hating that heavy feeling in the back of my throat. The mercenary behind the monitor turned back to what he’d been doing, leaving me to walk in behind him. There were dozens of private chat rooms open on a screen in front of him.
Taste of Paradise.
