Page 98 of Brutal Savior

I wouldn’t have expected anything less from him.

***

Two days later, I’m seated at the kitchen table with Jacob and Grandad. It’s supposed to be Grandad’s last day, and I’ve been dreading saying goodbye, but now, the stubborn old man is giving Jacob a glare to match his own. “I said I’m not fucking leaving.”

Jacob has recovered a lot in the last couple of days, regaining some of his usual energy. But at this statement, all he can manage is a blank look. “You can’t stay, Grandad. It’s a military—”

“Don’t give me that bollocks. This place is as military as my arsehole. It’s some secret club, and you’re a bigwig. I’m staying.”

“But…”

I almost feel sorry for Jacob, but seeing him lost for words is just too much fun. I cross my legs and lean back in my seat.

“Grandad. Listen. I might be able to swing you staying here, but if you do, you can’t leave. You’re stuck here.”

“So what? Ruth’s off back to England. She’s got her husband and her fancy job. She don’t bother much with me. I’ve only got a few years left, son. I want to spend them with you, not stuck in some geriatric home getting a visit every few weeks.”

Jacob winces, guilt splashed across his face. “I’m sorry. I know I didn’t visit as often as I should have. I was just—”

“Busy. You were busy, and that’s okay. It’s what you’re supposed to be at your age. But I spent your mum’s childhood working all hours and missed out on that time with her and your gran. And for what? A pay packet each week. I’m staying.”

Jacob shoots me a helpless glance, and I shrug, though inside, I’m glowing. I didn’t want Grandad to leave, and now he might not have to. Just another shiny stone in the bucket of good things about the Compound.

I’m collecting them like a crow. I haven’t accepted the impossibility of escape yet. There’s always a way. What I’m struggling with is the very real possibility that I might not want to leave. Even thinking it makes me feel guilty, as if I’m betraying something important. But I can’t deny what I’m feeling.

Outside, every day was a struggle just to keep afloat. Here I wake up feeling bright, even with the collar around my neck. I’ve got real friends—some human, some not. I’m doing important work with Candice, building a virtual world. I get the best medical care possible, and for the first time in forever, I’m thinking of life in decades, not years.

Everyone I care about already thinks I’m dead. I cut them all off so completely after the accident that they already feel like a previous life. If I did escape, would they want me back after what I did? Would anything ever be like it was before my life went to shit? Maybe, but maybe not. My happiness here is a solid thing, growing brighter and shinier each day.

And here, I have Jacob.

Anyone watching from the outside would tell me I’ve got the worst case of Stockholm syndrome in history, and maybe they’d be right, but if I can’t tell the difference, does it really matter? When Jacob’s gone, I want him back. Getting through his grouchy British attitude and making him laugh has become my new favorite game.

I shouldn’t be feeling this way, but I am, and I’m starting to lose sight of why I keep fighting it.

Jacob’s heavy sigh brings me back to the moment. He’s got his most terrifying glare fixed on Grandad, and I’m glad I’m not on the receiving end of it. “Is this really what you want? No more bingo down the pub? No flying back to Blighty for footie season?”

Grandad scoffs. “I wouldn’t do that fucking flight again if you paid me. And I’ve been having more fun here with you, Quinn, and your friends than I did with the codgers at bingo.”

Jacob tries again. “Look. Quinn and I—we’re not having kids. We’ve talked about it, and we’re not. What if Ruth does? You’d be missing out on your great-grandkids.”

Grandad shakes his head. “She don’t want ’em either. Seems a common theme with you young ones. Can’t say I blame ya, the world the way it is.”

I can add that to the bucket of shiny stones, too. No kids. I never wanted to risk passing on my Brugada syndrome, and when Jacob told me he’d had the snip, it came as a big relief. One less thing to worry about.

Jacob glances my way again, and this time, I grin. “Looks like he’s staying. Think you can clear it with Kendrick?”

“I think so, but…” Jacob’s forehead creases, and his gaze flits between Grandad and me. My stomach drops as I guess what he’s thinking. He’s insulated Grandad from the realities of the Compound so far, keeping him away from most of the public areas. If he stays here, that won’t be possible anymore.

He’ll find out about the Wards. He’ll learn the truth about Jacob and me. Is that something he’ll be able to get past?

Jacob’s voice drops into the same serious cadence he used when he told me about my captivity. “There’s something else you need to know about this place. The women here…they’re—”

Grandad holds up a hand. “I didn’t come down in the last shower. I saw the collars on young Eve and a couple of the others. I know what they mean. It’s a sex thing, like in that Sixty Shades of Gray book the women all went mad for. Your business is your business, my boy.”

I clamp my hand over my mouth to hold in the laugh that wants to tear its way out. Jacob, my solid, unflappable soldier, turns flushed, and his mouth drops open.

Grandad notices and rolls his eyes at me. “He thinks I’m an old prude. Truth be told, I wish that bloody book had been around when his gran was still here.”

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