Page 121 of Crimson Flames

Some might think that bonding with your child shouldn’t be done with weapons and tactical fighting skills, but those people would be boring.

Chapter 46

Having my mom accept who I choose to be is like a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. She trained with me for nearly four hours last week after everything happened, and I have a schedule to work on something new each day with everyone in the family.

As much as I want to know all of these skills, and be as proficient as each of them at everything, I’m aware I will need to narrow it down a bit.

I love fighting with Damien and Alexi. That is probably one of my favorite areas to train in. Lev teaching me how to get out of some tricky knots was my second favorite, but probably more sobecause Nessa was so excited about it. Since it was a skill that didn’t have me learning to hurt anyone and was solely to save myself, she was definitely a fan.

Akio and Adrian have been walking me through different explosives. Their training has been limited with them not wanting to expose the girls to the depths of this life just yet, but they are excited to be part of teaching me new things.

It’s been incredible to see how much Ami and Ani are improving with them. All of us have started to learn a good bit of sign language to help them too, since Ani has begun to prefer it over talking. I enjoy it though because she and I have always been close, and the more signs I learn, the more she acts like we have our own secret language.

True to her word, Nessa has trained with me every day, even if it’s just shooting a clip at the range before we go to bed. I like that I don’t have to keep this part of me a secret from her anymore. I know she was just trying to protect me, but I want to be able to protect her too.

There may come a day when I don’t feel ready to be on the front lines with them, and I know that I can always tell them that and take a back seat with Lev to help with the drones.

He’s taught me all about the different kinds of tech he has created with them, and I have to wonder if he’s secretly Iron Man. For some reason, I can just see him in a hot rod red and gold suit that he made to help protect us all.

That’s been the common theme. No one has a skill that they don’t use to protect others at some point. I haven’t been taught to take advantage of people, I’ve been taught to protect. Cillian said something about us all living in the darkness of the underworld, but I can’t help but think he’s wrong. They may not live in the light, but they do good things. I want to help them see that.

The girls we rescued from the boarding school have been coming to some of the sessions with me. Maree has taken mostly to Dr. K though, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she goes to school to be a psychologist. Storm has bonded a lot with Laney, and they seem to spend a good amount of time together. Rhea hangs out with Lev a often when she and Rick are fighting, but lately she’s been following me for some reason.

I can hear her and Rick bickering often, but they always seem to work through it. When I was heading to a session with Dr. K yesterday, I overheard her say something about how their trauma bond can be volatile because they’re each other's trigger just as much as their comfort.

I didn’t mean to hear it, but now that I have, I think I understand what she means. I could correct Rick on his form while fighting and he takes it well, but if Rhea does it, it’s like his brain shuts down.

She’s the same way. Today, we were hacking into a secure military server in Russia, just to see if we could, when Rick tried to show Rhea a shortcut. Her mood darkened immediately because of the way he phrased it. Suddenly she was lashing out at him which caused him to yell in return. It ended with her throwing her headphones across the room and tears swimming in her eyes.

As soon as she relaxed, Rick was there to comfort her, looking like the perfect couple that would weather any storm and nothing like the spark that activates a short circuit in each other's brains.

Dr. K has talked about my own trauma bond with Nessa, and how we need to be careful about getting too attached in unhealthy ways that make us rely on each other with unrealistic expectations. I see that a lot in Rhea and Rick.

“I’ve got some footage everyone needs to see,” Lev announces, walking into the kitchen where most of the family is seated.

“What is it?” Nessa asks as Boris presses a button and a large screen descends from the ceiling.

“When did you have that installed?” I question.

“This is where we tend to do a lot of business. I thought it would be helpful.”

Lev plugs in a cord that connects to his computer, bringing up surveillance footage.

“This place is unlike anything I have ever seen,” Lev says as he walks us through the orphanage where Ronan is holding nine children.

Well, teens. They’re all almost eighteen.

White walls line every room and surface. The kids are all wearing black shirts and shorts while security wears gray. It appears more like an institution in this show Cillian and I have been watching. One where they lock up a supernatural being, only for them to turn against them and melt everyones brains during their escape.

The recruits walk like robots, as if even their movements have been tailored to fit a specific mold. But nothing is more terrifying than when Lev pulls up video footage of a room that looks too normal for the situation.

There are books on shelves, and a small grocery-like aisle set up near some art prints on the wall. It’s strange, trying to simulate too many scenarios in one area.

That’s when someone starts to speak. All nine children stand at attention like soldiers. Blank faces stare ahead, their posture a mirror image of the person next to them. All of the girls’ hair is identically cut, and the boys’ buzzed heads shaved down to the same length.

“Blend in,” a guard orders, and it’s like a switch is flipped. In an instant, they go from soldiers to normal looking teenagers as they stroll about each section of the room. Some flip through books as if interested in the contents, others grocery shop, andsome stop and stare at the art on the wall as if they were in a gallery.

“Holy shit,” I gasp, hardly realizing the words slipped out.

---