I opened my mouth, surprised, and then shut it. His request was reasonable, and I could only imagine what it was like being in there. “Sure. I’ll wait outside. Just knock when you’re ready.”
He smiled and then swung his legs back up on the bed and settled down, lacing his fingers over his stomach as best he could with his wrists cuffed together. “I’ll move as quickly as possible,” he promised. “I don’t like being in this body at all.”
“Just be careful, okay?” I said.
Leo nodded, his eyes already drifting closed. I stared at him for a moment or two longer, and then exited into the hallway to wait.
11
I was standing outside Baldy’s room for nearly twenty minutes, waiting, before a loud shout carried down the hall. Alarmed, I pushed off the wall I was leaning on, my hand on my baton, and took half a step toward the sound.
Quess came around the corner a minute later, his face a tight mask, and I moved to meet him. “What’s wrong? What was that?”
“It’s Grey,” he said. “He woke up and started freaking out. He doesn’t recognize me or Doxy. Should I sedate him?”
My heart lurched at the idea, my imagination already putting my feet in Grey’s shoes. He was confused and scared, and we didn’t need to make it worse by cornering him and knocking him out. I owed him more than that. We all did.
“No,” I said, swallowing some of my anxiety. “I’ll handle it. Will you wait here for Leo? He said he would knock when he was ready.”
Quess nodded. “Maddox is outside the door. He’s…” He shifted his weight, seemingly torn. “He’s angry, Liana. I’m not sure why or about what, but he started to get violent. He didn’t hurt anyone, but that was because of Maddox’s intervention.”
I cursed. That was only going to make things more difficult, but if I could just reassure him that he was safe and that no one was going to hurt him, he would hopefully calm down.
“Thanks,” I said as I started to jog away. I followed the spiral-shaped hallway about thirty feet, until Maddox came into view. When I slowed to a stop next to her, I could hear a rhythmic pounding coming through Leo’s door, followed by angry, muffled shouts. Maddox’s eyes were flat and hard.
“He’s freaking out,” she told me as soon as I was standing next to her. “I tried to talk to him, but I think it was our uniforms. He just flipped out.”
I looked down at my uniform and then sighed. Grey didn’t have the best history with the Knights. His parents had dropped him from his department when he was young, because his ranking had continued to descend instead of rise. Their decision forced him to live on the outskirts of Tower life, bouncing from department to department, until he fell in with Roark and got a place with the Cogs. He had been Roark’s ally in distributing Paragon for their escape plan and hadn’t exactly been on the right side of the law. So it must have been a shock for any version of him to wake up in a room with two Knights. It wasn’t any wonder he was freaking out.
“I’ll get him calmed down,” I told her.
She nodded. “Zoe and Eric are almost here. I’ll go grab them and get them set up.”
I studied the door and nodded, absentmindedly checking that off my list and then summoning up a deep calm. Inside the room, Grey continued to shout demands for someone to come in and tell him what was going on, accompanied by loud metallic bangs, indicating he was kicking or punching the walls. As I reached for the button, I suddenly hesitated, my heart pounding.
Even though I knew I had to do this—had to open the door and try to calm Grey down—something inside me warned that it wasn’t a good idea for me, personally. I was already twisted up inside over the complicated feelings I was developing for Leo, and now I had to deal with Grey.
How was I possibly going to do that? How could I even look him in the eye after everything? I had feelings for Grey, but he had been gone for so long, and in the process of waiting for him, I had allowed Leo a place in my heart.
Oh God, I had betrayed Grey. Because that was what was happening every second that I drew closer and closer to Leo. Even if I had any doubts before, they were completely washed away by the fact that I was standing outside of Grey’s door, wishing I was in Leo’s arms, not having to deal with this. It was so tempting, but also cowardly, and that wasn’t who I was.
Besides, it wasn’t like he was going to remember me. Leo had said he was in his teenage years, and I had met him when he was older than that.
Then my mind drifted to the time that Leo had been sleepwalking and tried to kiss me over and over again, with an intensity that I recognized as Grey’s. He had somehow come to the surface and known me then. Would everything suddenly fall back in place for him if I walked in there right now? Could that even happen? What would I do if it did?
I’d like to think that I’d be honest with him, but somehow, I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. If he managed to look at me in that way that made my breath catch and my knees turn to gel, would I falter? Would I turn my back on Leo and choose Grey? Or turn my back on Grey and choose Leo? How could I do either thing and live with myself?
Did I even want him to remember me?
A part of me screamed that I did, but it was matched with a side that wanted Leo just as badly. Both of them were as different as could be, and yet my heart yearned for them, anyway.
Please don’t let him remember me, I prayed, begging for at least one thing to be uncomplicated tonight. I promise I will figure out what to do about this mess tomorrow. Just let me have this one thing tonight.
It took every ounce of my considerable willpower to press the button and open the door, but I managed. My personal feelings were secondary to Grey’s situation. My concerns over his wellbeing had to take priority over my own hang-ups. If he recognized me, we’d go from there. If he didn’t, same plan.
The door slid up, revealing a bedroom in a state of disarray. The mattress was flipped up on one side, the corner of it catching on a wall so it created a lean-to. Uniforms had been flung out of the closet, and technical manuals were strewn across the floor.
But I barely had time to register any of that, because Grey’s crimson-clad figure emitted a hoarse cry of anger to the left of me, and a second later he was charging toward me with an angry bellow of, “Leave me alone!”
I could’ve stopped him easily—the position of his arm and the way he held his hand were signs that he didn’t know how to throw a good punch—but instead, I stood my ground and held up my hands, squeezing one eye shut in preparation for the blow. Grey wasn’t much of a fighter, and definitely didn’t like to hit women, so I was hoping his reflexes would catch up long before he hit me. But if he hit me, it probably wouldn’t hurt that much. Either way, the act of not attacking or retaliating would throw him off. His feet thundered closer… and then the rhythm broke as he came to a sudden stop, inches in front of me.
I slid one eye open and looked up at him. He was staring down at me, his nostrils flaring and his brown eyes dark and filled with the promise of a storm. I searched them for recognition, and when none flared, relief filled me that I didn’t have to deal with that conversation, followed quickly by guilt.
Shaking both feelings off, I gave him a tremulous smile. “Thanks for not hitting me?” I asked, curling it up into a question at the end.
He gave a surprised huff and backed off a step, carving a little more space between us. I took a moment to ease away from the wall I had backed up against and tugged on the edge of my uniform, the garment feeling inexplicably tight.
“Why am I here?” he barked, and there was a sullen anger in his voice. I looked up at him and found his eyes filled with defiance. But as I peered a little deeper, I saw a glimmer of fear there.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I assured him, and then paused, recalling Quess and Maddox’s comments about him growing violent, and speared him with a hard look. “But if you continue to assault my people, I will have to sedate you.”
He scowled at me and tipped his chin up a notch. ?
??You still didn’t answer my question.” I smiled in spite of myself. He was Grey, through and through—unrelenting to a fault. Single-minded focus that would tear through all extraneous data to get right to the point. Oh, he knew how to be indirect, but he did love challenging authority. He just got a little smoother about it when he was older.
His eyes flicked to my lips and narrowed in suspicion. “What’s so funny?”
Crap. Lie fast, and lie believably, Liana. “Sorry,” I told him contritely, pulling the smile back some. “I just respect a guy who stays on task.”
One eyebrow rose, and was followed by one lip, which curled up flirtatiously. “You hitting on me, Knight lady?”
The thought sobered me, the conflict from earlier rearing its ugly head and roaring. I shook my head, offering him a smaller, tighter smile. “Not at all,” I told him gently. “And to answer your question, you’re here because you had a little accident.”
“Accident?” His strong eyebrows drew together into a tight point over his nose as he frowned. “Why am I not at the Medica, then?”
I hesitated and then shook my head. I had no answer for that. Telling him anything resembling the truth would sound insane to him, especially with where he was in his personal timeline, so I settled on the best kind of truth I could find: the misdirect. “It’s complicated. Can I… Can I ask you some questions?”
Grey’s mouth twisted in uncertainty, but he nodded. “What do you want?”
I licked my lips and decided to start with introductions. “My name is Liana Castell. What’s your name?”
“Grey Sawyer,” he replied automatically. His words brought me pause. When I met him, he had already been Grey Farmless, his surname having been changed after his parents dropped him from the Farming Department. I tried to remember how old he had been when he was dropped, but I didn’t think he’d ever mentioned it. Obviously, we were still earlier than that in his memories.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Seventeen,” he said, uncrossing his arms and puffing up his chest a little. I could imagine him doing that when he was younger, trying to look older, but given that he was twenty-five, it only served to make him look boyish, eliciting yet another smile from me. “You?” he demanded a second later, his eyes dropping to my lips.
“Twenty-one,” I told him. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
Confusion riddled his features, and then his eyes grew distant for the space of several heartbeats. “I had a fight with my parents,” he said finally, and his voice was awash with pain and frustration. “They… My…” he paused, one hand going up to rub his arm in a nervous gesture. “My ranking keeps falling, and I can’t seem to do anything right. I don’t know why. I study hard; I work harder, but… Scipio hates me! I don’t know why, but he does, he—”
He stopped mid-sentence and looked at me, his eyes welling with terror. “Oh no,” he whimpered. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. I know Scipio doesn’t hate me, I just—”
My heart swelled up for him, and I instinctively stepped close to him and wrapped him up in a hug, wanting to reassure him the best way I knew how. This wasn’t my Grey—not yet—but this was the boy who would become my Grey, and I was meeting him during the hardest time in his life, from his perspective.
And I knew it would only get worse for him. His rank would continue to fall, until his family dropped him from the department entirely. He’d be on his own until he found Roark… and then he’d lose him too. I hugged harder, hurting for the memories that he had yet to know, and to my surprise, he hugged me back.
I could sense an ache inside him, a need to be comforted. I let the hug go on for as long as possible before it got too weird, and even then I felt wrong stepping away from him.
“It’s okay,” I told him with a gentle nod and smile. “We don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want to.”
He gave me a considering look, his bottom lip disappearing into his mouth for a second. “How long do I have to stay here?” he asked.
I considered his question and then sighed. “I don’t have a good answer for that,” I told him. “It could be a few hours. Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?”
“Trying to win my heart through my stomach, eh?” he said jokingly, waggling his eyebrows at me.
I laughed, unable to stop myself. One other thing about Grey was that he was a terrible flirt. Not as bad as Quess could be, but then again, he was more of a charmer, whereas Quess was the master of inappropriate pickup lines. “I bet you say that to all the girls,” I teased.
“Girls? No.” He raked me with a salacious look, his smile widening. “I’ve been waiting for someone special. A woman.”
I flushed under his frank and flirtatious quip and tried to laugh it away. “Well, luckily I’m far too old for you, so that’s settled.”
“Only four years,” he retorted, and I tried to give him what I hoped was a stern look. His broad smile widened, and something dangerously close to recognition flared through his eyes. “Do I… Have we met?”
My heart thudded against my ribs, and I was shaking my head no before I could even consider whether it was a good idea or not. “No,” I lied to him. “I don’t think so.”
“Hm.” He pursed his lips at that, considering me. “We should.”
I frowned in confusion. “We just did.”
“No, for dinner sometime.” I stared at him, surprised that his seventeen-year-old self could be that audacious, yet feeling slightly flushed and… pleased by his attention.
Totally weird, Liana. He’s seventeen right now, I chided myself while simultaneously laughing him off. “I’m sure your girlfriend would have something to say about that.”
“She would if she existed,” he replied with a shrug. “It’s just too bad I’m waiting for someone special.”
“Oh? Like who?” I asked, my voice teasing.
I didn’t expect him to have an answer, but Grey—being Grey—surprised me. “Someone who sees me as more than the number on my wrist. She’s gotta be strong and fierce, too—everything I’m not, but want to push myself to be. I may not be the best fighter, but with her, I wouldn’t have to be. Fighting the world could be her thing; mine would be holding her when it grows too dark and hopeless for her. Loving her when she feels like she’s failed and pushing her to succeed even when she feels she can’t.”
His words might as well have been fire. They left me feeling flushed, raw, and needy, and seemed to burn away every bit of oxygen in the room. His words—his idea—of what he wanted sounded a lot like what I needed. I thought about my mother’s death and found myself wondering if things would’ve been different had Grey been there, coaxing me back to life through his love and care. I hadn’t let anyone close, not even Zoe or Alex or Leo. I wasn’t sure why I thought Grey would be any different, but a part of me wondered.
I put it aside quickly. It didn’t do me any good to think about what might have been. I’d learned that after my mother died, when the grief of it almost made me fall apart.
Instead, I went for a joke. “You don’t see yourself as the hero?” I asked lightly.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged again. “I’m not a hero,” he replied with a sad smile. “If I were, I’d have a higher ranking. But it’s okay. Because if not being the hero means I get to be there for the woman I love, then I’m glad. I don’t care about saving people or the world. I only want to care about her. I want to be her hero. Everyone else in the Tower can rot.”
A surprised laugh escaped me, but it died when he met my eyes and squinted at me. “Are you sure we haven’t met?” he asked, taking a step toward me. “There’s something very familiar about you.”
I hesitated and then shook my head, firmly telling him, “No, I’m sorry. I just have one of those faces.”
“Uh-huh.”
I cleared my throat against the doubt in his voice and decided that it would be best if I got out of there post-haste. This interaction was only confusing thin
gs. “I should go,” I told him. “But if you need anything, you can let Cornelius know. He’s a computer assistant who can hear and see everything going on in here. And he will tell me.”
“So if I want to see you again, I just have to ask this Cornelius?” he asked with a smile.
“Yes,” I said automatically. Followed by, “Well, no…” as soon as I realized my mistake. I shook my head, flustered as he stepped even closer, his smile growing. “Someone will help you,” I finally corrected myself. It didn’t matter to me that his mind was seventeen. The look he was giving me was masculine and hungry—and I was responding to it.
I had to go. “Thank you for your patience,” I told him lamely, before turning and fleeing through the door.
12
As soon as I stepped out into the hall, a shiver ran up and down my spine, sending signals that something was wrong. I looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of my discomfort, but the hall seemed fine. It sat still, silent, and empty.
And yet I couldn’t stop feeling that tingling sensation running under my skin, like I had stepped on a livewire and the current was strong enough to make my nerves twitch and jump.
I heard muffled voices to my left, coming from the direction of the war room, and I headed toward them, propelled by an urge I didn’t quite understand. The curving nature of the hall made it impossible to see straight down it—a design I had used to limit line of sight in case of a fight, and one I despised in that moment as I stalked down the hall, my eyes following the interior curve for any sign of movement.
I stopped when the treaded soles from a pair of boots slid into view right in front of Baldy’s room, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up as I took three more steps forward, my hand already opening the pocket where I had shoved the gun earlier.
Quess was on the floor, lying on his belly, blood streaming out of a gash just over his eyebrow. A dark, uncertain fear came over me as I realized he had been attacked, and I quickly checked both sides of the hall before I dropped to my knees next to him, my gaze constantly monitoring the hall as I placed two fingers on his neck. His pulse was strong and steady, and while I was relieved to find him alive, I had to know what had happened to him.