Page 99 of Sully

“Because Sully survived when their loved one didn’t. That can fuck with the head. And, I’m assuming, somewhere along the way, they concluded that your brother was, for lack of a better way to put it, at fault. So they want you both to suffer. Maybe they would have gone after your parents, but it sounds like they make their own lives miserable enough.”

It was fucking psycho behavior to target someone as innocent as Bonnie. But, if someone lost a son or sibling they were close to, there’s no telling what they’re capable of.

At least it was a direction.

Somewhere to look.

Even though I didn’t exactly feel great about offing someone who was acting out of grief for something I had a lot of my own survivor’s guilt about, even all these years later.

But then Bonnie was moving closer, wrapping her arms around me gently. “I’m sorry you went through that,” she whispered to my chest, so only the two of us could hear. “And I’m really glad you’re still here.”

My arms went around her, feeling that same spreading sensation in my heart, knowing it for what it was, even if I hadn’t said the words yet.

Shewas why I could do whatever I had to do to the man who’d strapped a bomb to her chest, whose actions still gave her nightmares I had to shake her awake from, who would likely always panic at the sound of any type of explosions.

Shedeserved the peace of knowing no one would ever come for her again.

“How about you two go take a walk?” Fischer suggested as some of the men and women started talking to each other,tossing out names and ages, relations to the men who I’d served with.

“Yeah,” I agreed, reaching for Bonnie’s hand, lacing my fingers through, and leading her out of their war room.

I had no fucking idea where I was going. But I figured it didn’t really matter. No matter where we were, this place was safe. And there would be someone, somewhere to lead us back to the war room when we were needed. Everyone around the place carried around comms, so the communication thing wasn’t an issue.

We walked in silence, both of us not wanting to stop anywhere in the strange, barren hallways full of creepy corners.

“What’s through there?” Bonnie asked when we reached a strange door. Compared to all the thick, reinforced metal doors everywhere else, this was a wide, arched wooden door.

“I have no idea,” I admitted. “But it’s open,” I added when the door handle turned in my hand. “Shall we?” I asked, shooting her a little smirk.

“You already are,” she shot back as I pulled her through the door and into…

An indoor garden.

No, that wasn’t quite right. It was a whole-ass botanical conservatory.

Except, of course, it was in the center of the building. There were no windows. But the roof was made of what seemed like the same thick glass as the room on the roof of the clubhouse, letting in light. But to make up for the lack of windows, full-spectrum lighting lined the walls.

“Wow,” Bonnie exhaled, turning in a circle to try to take in all the plants. “I’m not even a huge plant person, but I could sit here for hours. Wait… is that water?” she asked.

Sure enough, we heard and followed the trickle toward the far wall where, half-hidden by a bunch of tropical trees, was asunken pond surrounded by a raised wall, giving the koi fish within enough room to swim.

“This is incredible,” Bonnie said, sitting on the pond wall and looking out. “Why would they have something like this here?”

“Best guess, it’s a two-fold thing,” I said, joining her.

“What do you mean?”

“On the one hand, it probably got here because someone around here loves plants or maybe has bad enough agoraphobia that they can’t go out, so they wanted to create an outside… inside.”

“It’s sweet that Chris would let someone build this for a reason like that, even if it’s sad that someone might feel like they can’t even walk outside.”

“This place is mostly made up of former military members. Some who went through some really rough shit. Got both emotional and physical scars. When Lo, Chris’s mom, started this place, it gave all those men and women who otherwise wouldn’t have been able to function in society, a way to cope, use their skills, make a living. And to be around others who would understand them.”

“What kind of jobs do they do?” Bonnie asked.

“Honestly, I’m not even sure. But I do know they make bank. They have experts of every sort here: hackers, weapons experts or builders, sharpshooters, engineers, you name it. So, you can imagine what those skills could be used to do.”

“Yeah. What’s the other thing?”

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