No Peace for the Damned

step. There is still so much fear inside of you. It’s not enough to be away from your father and uncles. As long as fear rules your decisions, you will never be truly free of your family.” He put his hands on my shoulders. “Working with this team will be another step in helping you rid yourself of that fear. You need this, Magnolia, just as much as we need you.”
    I turned away from him.
    A vision of Theo popped in my head. Held down in a field like this, his body drenched in sweat and blood. My father standing over him, killing him with unseen knives as Theo begged for mercy. Around them, the field was littered with the bodies of the rest of the team. My chest tightened in a painful ache. Pain pierced my side as if I were the one being stabbed. I stumbled forward.
No!
    The image vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
What the hell?
Thirteen steadied me. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing. It’s nothing. I just—I was just thinking about what you said. What it might be like for your team if they tried to take down one of my relatives now. You know, without knowing what they were really up against.” I looked back at the field. Still barren, but sunlight peeked through the clouds now, brightening the gray. “It was nothing.”
    Nothing except my option of leaving evaporating with the fog.
    He watched me closely for a moment then said, “Come on,” and indicated the direction of the farmhouse. “I’ll walk you back.” I stepped up beside him and together we made our way back through the woods.
    What I felt for Thirteen was strong, but he had earned my trust and concern by keeping my presence secret all these months. He’d helped me acclimate to my freedom, taught me the basics of daily life like grocery shopping and debit cards. Theo had done nothing but sit there. And yet, the need to know everything about him was almost overwhelming. I wanted to touch him, to get in his mind and know what aggravated him or made him laugh. What was important to him. What he hated. What he loved. Had Theo done something to me? He must have a power I’d never heard of before or something. The way I felt when I looked at him, the utter terror I’d experienced at the mere thought of him being tortured by my family…
    We stepped into the clearing just before the farmhouse and I realized I was hugging myself. I dropped my arms to my sides.
Screw this
.Whatever he’d done to make me care so much, I was stronger. I had control over my feelings just as much as I had control over my powers. And I’d be damned if I let what I felt for him distract me again.

It was still early in the evening when the sliding, crunching sound of cars on gravel came from outside. One of the hidden security monitors in the bedroom beeped twice. I grabbed my whiskey and waited in the kitchen.
    Wonder if they will bother knocking, or just come right in?
    A single beep sounded when footsteps hit the front porch. Everything was quiet for a minute, then they knocked.
    “It’s open.”
    They entered the kitchen in a single-file line. It was everyone from the meeting, minus Chang. Each one of them stared me down as they silently flowed into the cramped kitchen. Those who sat down did so in exactly the same order they had in the Thirsty Turtle’s conference room.
    Their faces were practiced blanks, every one of them completely devoid of expression.
Good
. They were tough, not dwelling on the trauma of my memory. They might actually be able to handle what I was going to tell them.
    “Where is Thirteen?” Shane asked. He sat in one of the seats across from me, his thick arms crossed over his chest, his long blond hair hanging in his eyes. When I turned to him, his expression wavered, a flash of anger peeking through. He was seriously pissed off at me but his thoughts weren’t giving specifics as to why.
    “He and Banks are picking up some food,” I answered. “They’ll be here any minute.”
    And thank God for that
.
    Not that the room’s awkwardness bothered me, but there was absolutely no food in the house. And I was starving. In fact, besides toilet paper, there were hardly any of the essentials. I’d brought my own whiskey, but with only two bottles left, even that was in short supply.
    That reminded me. “Does, um, anyone want a drink?”
    As soon as I spoke, I winced. What the hell could I offer them? Whiskey or water? And were there even enough glasses for everybody?
Shit
. My cheeks started to burn.
I must look