Page 45 of Sloth
“Doesn’t matter now. Point is, I was there. I left a message, then I left. When I arrived on site with the crew, we tracked Gale down. The bastards still didn’t admit to having him there, but we knew he was being tortured in this old run-down building. The reason the army were investigating the cell in the first place was they’d heard they’d received a shipment of armor-piercing shells. They tasked me with scouting the area. We found five trunks. The four I could get to held normal rounds. Instead of checking that last trunk, I assumed the all clear and gave the go ahead to move in. Gale wasn’t the only one who died that day. Because of my negligence, they mowed down half the squad.”
Sloan’s heart broke for him. This was why he was so obsessed with remaining diligent and vigilant.
“They broke the terms of the ceasefire. We should have been allowed to respond with force, but they wouldn’t let me go after Gale. The thing is… Gale and I had always promised we’d have each other's back. And I didn’t.”
“You did,” Sloan insisted. “You went back for him.”
“Yeah but it was too little too late.” He took a deep breath. “Anyway, that’s when I went after the bastards myself. Daymo and Tom-Tom followed me. We found pieces of Gale… After that, it was all a blur. I can’t remember how many of them we killed. Got dishonorably discharged for it, but we got the bastards. We got justice for Gale.”
This time, she reached across and placed her palm at the back of his neck. When he didn’t complain, she let her thumb rub in soothing circles.
“You were the first person I called when I got back, Sloan,” he said, turning to meet her eyes. “And your phone was disconnected.” He shrugged out of her touch and stood up. The deep canyon forming between his brows grew darker than the night sky behind him. “Then when I looked you up online, I found pictures of you with another man. Do you have any idea how much that hurt?”
She swallowed. “I’m an idiot.”
“Yeah. You are.” Then he strode back to camp, leaving Sloan speechless.
Twelve
Max trudged over rock,twigs and stone. He felt like he’d been hiking his entire life. His head was ready to explode, and his heart was shredded. Running on reserves, they’d all stopped talking hours ago and proceeded to the black site with dogged determination. Arriving under the cover of night was imperative. His body ached, yet he pushed through. Had to keep up the with pace set by the three genetically enhanced beings in front of him.
While he walked, his thoughts meandered. What would it have been like if the Lazarus brood were in the army with him, not only training, but going on tour? If he’d had their help during the conflict that took Gale’s life… Wyatt was bulletproof. Griffin could stop metal projectiles with his mind. And Sloan… she could instill fear into the enemy, making them quake with doubt, seize in pain, or break down in tears. He wanted to be bitter about it, but the more he walked, the more his emotional baggage eased. They were where they were meant to be—stopping the fanatical Syndicate from making more genetically modified soldiers, and turning them evil and then loose on the world. They didn’t ask to be born the way they were. They weren’t given the choice to enlist, not like he had, like Gale had.
Tony’s reticence earlier came to mind and confirmed what Max had wondered, not all of them were happy about their lot in life, but they persisted.
Blood and viscera from the fashion store animal attack flashed before his eyes. It took him unaware, and so sharply that his steps faulted. Forcing the images out, he placed them in a locked box in the back of his brain. Mumbling the words to the school yard version ofWaltzing Matilda, he cleared his mind. It was a technique he’d been taught to help cope with the sometimes unsettling results of war. When you just had to keep going, the song gave him something else to focus on.
Sloan hiked up ahead, darting a glance back to him now and then. Awareness of her attention trickled down his spine and soon his thoughts derailed to her, and only her. He marked the change in her since they’d activated her mating bond. She’d become more energetic, more vibrant, more focused. No more hiding out in her room, but diving head first into the conflict. The way she’d protected the patrons of that store was heroic. She could have exposed her secret, but that’s what he was there for. Reluctantly, he admitted they made a good team. Knowing this, he forced himself to explore his anger with her.
It was clear she knew nothing about Gale’s untimely death. He’d been dark about that at first, but after a few hours of physical activity, the distrust drained away. All that was left was a connection that tugged at his chest, keeping him tethered to the woman walking in front of him. He didn’t know what it meant. He didn’t know if he could go back to who they used to be, but he knew it was a start.
“Stop moping, Sloan.” Parker’s grumble reached Max with a gust of warm wind.
“I’m not.”
“Yeah, yeah, you are.” Tony stopped, turned and put his hands on his hips. “I can’t take it anymore. And there’s no more booze, so, suck it up and let us get on with it.”
“What’s all this?” Max strode up.
Sloan bit the corner of her bottom lip.
It was Parker who answered. “Sloan needs to train.” He turned to his younger sister. “Try putting up an emotional shield.”
“And how do I do that?” She shifted her weight to the other leg.
“Meditate, or some shit,” Tony snapped.
“Like you know what you’re talking about. The only time you meditate is in front of a camera.”
“Harsh, Sloan.” Tugging his bag from his shoulder, he inspected the contents. “I can’t deal with this. I need a drink.”
“Christ’s sake, Tony. It’s only been a few hours since your last one.” Parker frowned at his brother. “There’s none left.”
“It’s cool.” Tony zipped his bag back up, eyes darting around, wild eyed. “I’m good.”
“No, you’re not.” Parker dabbed the man on the forehead. “You’re burning up.”
Tony had a peaky sheen of perspiration not present on Sloan or Parker. He looked ill… or like he was going through some kind of advanced withdrawal. With their physiology, who knew how long toxins took to get out of his system.
