My eyes snap open and my breaths come in rapid pants. I throw back the covers and climb out of bed. Stuffing my feet into my trainers, I flick the lock and slowly open the door, peering out into the hall. All the lights are off, but I can see the light shining under Mason’s door, letting me know he’s still awake.
On silent feet, I stealthily move down the hall and out the front door. The campus is still, not a soul in sight as I set a fast pace, running along one of the longer trails that winds through the forest. I don’t care that it’s pitch black and I can hardly see a foot in front of me. Nothing matters, except exorcising me of these thoughts. I can’t think straight when I feel like this.
My senses are on overdrive as I race through the dark forest, preventing me from thinking about anything except my next step, and for a short time, I feel free. Free from the nightmares, free from the fear.
By the time I make it back to the front door of the dorms, I can hardly put one foot in front of the other, and I have a stitch in my side, but for the first time all night, my mind is quiet.
I pause when I spot a dark shadow on the steps.
“Nice run?” Mason asks, and I release a sigh of relief.
I move to sit beside him, practically collapsing onto the step.
“You know you can talk to us, right?”
“I know.”
“We aren’t going to judge you, or think any less of you.”
I don’t respond—what can I really say?—and he sighs in frustration. “All we wanna do is help, but you have to be willing to lean on us. I know you don’t know how to do that. I know you’re scared, but it doesn’t make you weak to ask for help. Knowing your own limitations and realizing when you can’t go on alone makes you more powerful. Then, when you’re unable to fight your battles, you have others who will stand up and fight them with you.” I swallow around the lump of emotion in my throat, blinking away the tears I can feel building. He moves to crouch in front of me, so I have no choice but to look him in the face. Reaching out, he tucks a flyaway strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re not alone anymore. You’ve got five guys, all of whom would wage a war for you, but right now, none of us know what to do. Hawk’s on the verge of losing his shit if you don’t let him in, and the rest of us aren’t far behind him.
“You don’t need to talk about what happened, or tell us anything you don’t want to. Just tell us if you’re struggling, or if you’re having a bad day. Tell me when you need a hug, or if you need to go for a run, or if you just want to be left alone. If you want to spend the day in bed with movies and ice cream, or you need to beat the shit out of someone. Just tell me what you need, baby, and I’ll get it for you—whatever it is.”
The tears spill over and run down my cheek, and Mason quickly swipes them away before holding out his hand and helping me to my feet. He doesn’t say anything else, he just walks me back to my room, and makes sure I’m settled in bed before saying goodnight.
***
“Dad’s been blowing up my phone all day,” Hawk grumbles the next evening at dinner, when his phone goes off for the third time.
Shoveling a fork full of food into my mouth, I mumble, “Why?”
He just shakes his head in frustration. “He wants us to go over for dinner, probably so he can chew us out for showing up at their offices unannounced.”
“Maybe you should go see what he has to say,” West suggests. “If there really is conflict between him and Maria, and what he said in Beck’s office is true, he might be able to help us.”
I’m not sure if we can trust Barton, but he knows a lot more about Maria and the inner workings of Nocturnal Mercenaries than we do, and for that reason alone, his help could be instrumental in taking down the company.
“Maybe we should give him a chance? At least go and hear what he has to say?” I suggest, looking at Hawk.
“Couldn’t do any harm, right?” Cam questions.
“What if he’s actually working with Mom,” Hawk counters. “He could be trying to lure us into going along with their insane plan.”
“Maybe, but there’s only one way to find out.” I cock a brow at Hawk and wait him out. Eventually, he groans.
“Fine, I’ll text him back and set up a dinner.”
Barton replies to Hawk’s text almost immediately, confirming dinner the next night.
***
“Where’s your mom?” I whisper as Hawk and I ascend the steps.
“You mean our mom, and I have no idea. This is why I don’t trust him. How can he live under the same roof as her if he never wanted to be a part of all of this? He makes it sound like he just went along with whatever she wanted, but he’s not a prisoner here. He could have left at any time.”
I shrug, not knowing what to say. I understand what he’s saying, but I also know you don’t need to be locked behind bars and steel doors to feel trapped.
He pushes down the handle of the front door and we step in, the smell of food hitting us immediately and making my stomach grumble. Damn, if nothing else, at least I’ll have gotten a tasty meal out of tonight.
“Hawk, uh, Hadley.” Barton’s smile falters for a second over my name before he rights it, greeting us, and the three of us stand there awkwardly for a second, no one sure what to do. “Eh, come in. Dinner will be ready shortly. Can I get you anything to drink?”
Hawk and I share similar what the fuck looks. I feel like I’ve entered the twilight zone. Barton is more casually dressed than I have ever seen him, in a pair of jeans and a polo shirt, with brown loafers on, and contrary to previous visits where he has been standoffish and unapproachable, never able to meet my eye, he appears relaxed and at ease this evening. Something is definitely up.
“Uh, no thanks,” I respond, smiling tightly.
“I’m good,” Hawk says when Barton looks his way.
“Oh, yeah, no problem. Please, have a seat.”
He gestures toward the same sofa set we sat on when Hawk and I spilled the beans on my identity. Oh, great, now the three of us can sit awkwardly, instead of stand. That’s so much better.
“Where’s Mom?” Hawk asks, looking around as if he’s expecting her to suddenly appear.
“She’s been staying at our apartment in the city since, uh, you showed up at the office.”
This tidbit of information gets both of our attention as we look at him in surprise.
“Why?”
Barton sighs, and he seems to almost collapse into his seat, the ice in his whiskey knocking against the side of his glass. There’s an apology in his eyes as he looks at me. “I’ve already explained that I struggled to focus on work after you, uh, disappeared. Well, your mother’s way of coping was to keep herself busy. Which worked well at the time, but she’s become so invested in it now.”
“You’re saying she wasn’t a cold-hearted, emotionless bitch before I was kidnapped?” Somehow, I find that hard to believe. What mother treats their children so indifferently? She couldn’t have cared less that I was alive.
Barton cringes, confirming my suspicions. “She’s not the most maternal of people.”