Defector

I settled.

The one rule I gave myself when I left my hometown two years ago was don't settle. Don't get comfortable. Don't let yourself relax and feel safe. It's never safe and to give myself the false hope that the stupid, little town was a haven was ignorant on my behalf. I allowed myself to get sucked into the daily routine of the average, quaint characters which filled the town and somehow it gave me some sense of security. It was time for me to leave.

It's weird to be back on the road again. It's odd to think I used to be afraid to be behind the wheel, but after being in Casandra's custody for a month, I had a new fear take it's place. Trying to escape from her and the eyes she has everywhere is nearly impossible, but I managed for the last six months which makes me second guess my decision to leave. I shake the thought from my head as I take the exit on the right which sends me back toward the town I never imagined I'd go back to.

I've traveled to most of the places in the eastern and central divisions. I made it as far as the western division gate and was told to turn around. The suspicious interaction cued up concern as to what is happening behind the gate where entering and exiting are both prohibited. The news doesn't even report anything about the western division as if they're hiding something. Hiding what? I have no idea, but if it's enough to turn people away and keep people within the gate, it can't be good.

Of all the places I've been to, they feel more like home than this place. It's rather uncomfortable for me to be driving along the familiar roads of my hometown. It brings back memories I've tried to suppress, but creep back into my thoughts to remind me of the trials I've faced in my life thus far.

The sun has long disappeared and was replaced by the moon by the time I reach the parking garage across the street from the "abandoned" metro station. I park my car near the three other vehicles examining them as I strut by. I tightly pull my sweatshirt around me as the night spring air whips wildly against my exposed skin. My teeth chatter which fades rather quickly when I'm face to face with the backdoor. I rest my hand on the handle before realizing the new keypad next to the door. No doubt a security panel installed by Gabe after he kicked me out so I would have no way of returning.

I examine the panel closely and speculate it requires four digits to unlock the door. If it truly was Gabe who installed this system, the combination would be something cheeky or egotistical.

4-2-2-3 Spells his name numerically. Access Denied.

I swear under my breath which I can easily see due to the chilly night. I cock my head to the side trying to think of an important date, something special to him like his birthday.

1-1-0-7 November seventh. It was drilled into our brains like it was a religious holiday Access Denied.

I bite the inside of my cheek. Maybe I'm not too far off. It was Gabe so I have to think like an asshole. I shake my head and scowl as I enter in a different date.

0-8-0-2 August second. The day he kicked me out. The day I left. The day I was no longer a problem for him. Access Granted. I hear the door unlatch as I yank it open.

"I'm glad you're dead," I mumble to myself, "you son of a bitch."

I shimmy inside The Tunnel hallway hearing some activity within the training room and also down the hall toward the sleeping area. I head in the direction of the training room. I peer inside as I watch Logan furiously pound away at the punching bag hanging from the ceiling with his back toward me. He's across the room, but I can see the sweat glistening along his neck and shoulders. I sneak pass the doorway and into the deserted plant.

Memories flood my mind of my time spent here. I feel the ghost of a smile on my lips as I bite them before turning toward the office. It appears unoccupied which is just what I was hoping for. I quietly have a seat in Logan's chair lounging back with my feet up on his desk. His car keys are nestled on top of his phone. He'll have to make a pit stop in here before he leaves for the night which will hopefully be any minute.

I reach over pulling his desk drawer open as snooping is one of my favourite hobbies. Not much is found besides boring files and paper work snuggled tightly together within the drawer on my right. On the left there are two drawers. In the top, there are: pens, highlighters, notepads, and paperclips.

As for the bottom, it's flooded with more files and a box hidden at the bottom of it. I extend my arm down and pull the box from captivity. It's small, almost like a jewelry box with a brass clasp on the front to keep it from flinging open. I open the latch and lift it up where inside there are pictures of Logan and I and some older ones of his family. I recognize his father in the one photograph next to a woman who looks familiar, but can't place her. Underneath is a smaller box with a velvet coating. I cautiously lift the top and catch a glimpse of a ring inside before I hear someone on their way to the office.

I shove the contents back into the box quickly and slam the drawer shut as my eyes lock onto Hunter's. He stares at me confused and unsure if I'm really there. He's frozen in the doorway as I'm just as equally incapable of moving as well. My eyes scan over him noticing the obvious sling his arm is in, no doubt due to the bullet which pierced his rotator cuff. He's leaner, too. Like he hasn't been eating or been purposely skipping meals. He strikes my attention by taking a single step back.

"Hey Fierce," he calls into the plant, "can you, uhh, come here for a minute?" Hunter tilts his head to the side biting his lip rings. I hear footsteps approaching as Hunter turns away from me. "I thought you said she didn't come back with you."

"What?" Logan asks before he appears in the doorway next to Hunter. He stares at me stunned. "She didn't." He raises an eyebrow at me. "What are you doing here?" He knits his brows together shaking his head. "How did you get in here?"

"I walked in." I respond like he should have known the answer.

"We have a security lock." He adds still not believing I broke into The Tunnel.

"Set up by Brestion, yeah?" Hunter confirms as I smirk examining my fingernails. "0-8-0-2? He really was a vengeful bastard, wasn't he?" Logan scoffs, but Hunter brushes past Logan to sit in his chair across the room. "I'm here, so tell me what you want." Hunter shoots his head toward Logan.

"You didn't tell her?" Hunter snaps.

"I didn't get a chance to." He retorts. "She was being rather difficult." I can't help, but laugh.

"Not so great when it's directed towards you. Brestion is in hell saying I told you so right about now."

"We need your help." Hunter admits. "We have one building left and it's going to take a professional to take it down along with Casandra. We certainly can't do the arson jobs, that much is obvious. You're the only one who can." My eyes flick between the two as a smile grows on my lips.

"Do you really think I'll help a group that kicked me out?" I remove my feet from the desk and plant them on the floor. "What makes you think you can trust me? What makes you think I can trust you?" I rise from Logan's chair. "We're in the middle of a war, Young, this isn't just about the buildings anymore. They hold no significant value whatsoever." I shake my head. "She values people. They're prizes, toys. She's collecting them like trophies to mutilate. We've all been through it, some more than others. She has eyes everywhere. It wouldn't surprise me if there are more moles than rebels in this little organization." The boys exchange a look. "So to recap, you expect me to roll over and fall in line like everyone else to finish the work I was assigned four years ago to a group of backstabbers who wanted nothing to do with me?" I fold my arms across my chest. "How does that sound to you?" They're quiet for a minute digesting my words.

"Sounds like a no to me." Logan says leaning against the door frame.

"Really?" Hunter rises from his seat. "It sounds more like a 'what's in it for me?' kind of deal." He steps toward me. "What's in it for you?" He smiles. "You get to kill Casandra."

"Excuse me?" Logan whips his head toward Hunter.

"I'm listening." I rest my palms down on top of Logan's desk, leaning forward.

"She's all yours. No one will come close to her. Hell, you could even torture her if you wanted to." A smile creeps onto my face as I think about the fantasies I've had destroying her the way she destroyed me.

"No." Logan steps in the middle of us turning to face me. "Absolutely not. You're better than that."

"You have no idea who I am anymore and you don't know anything about what she's done to me before and after I left." I tilt my head so I have clear view of Hunter. "But you know, don't you? Your girlfriend has been chatting your ear off with stories of my travels through the divisions." Logan pivots to face Hunter.

"You knew she was alive and contacting Quela?" Logan sounds hurt, but I couldn't care less about the damage it could do to their friendship. Hunter confirms with a slow nod. "What else haven't you told me?" He shakes his head turning his back on him. "I may not know the shit you went through, but I do know you're still Phoenix. Whatever bullshit facade you're pulling isn't working on me." He barks getting a scowl out of me. "You're either with us or against us. If you're with us, be in the training room tomorrow morning at nine on the dot. If you're against us, I better not see your face around here again." He reaches past me grabbing onto his keys before whipping around with his finger pointed at Hunter. "We're done." He storms out of the room, slamming his office door.

Hunter and I let the sound dissipate between us until we're standing in an uncomfortable silence. Hunter clears his throat and offering up my old room to me. I leave him in the office with just a hint of a smile as I open the previously closed door.

I head down the hall toward the sleeping chambers feeling a sense of nostalgia. I stare at the door for a moderate amount of time before cautiously opening it. I flip on the light switch as the room illuminates revealing it to be just the same as I left it. I open the dresser drawers where I find my clothes still folded inside. I twirl around and face the bed neatly made up and untouched. It feels welcoming, like no time has passed, but at the same time it doesn't feel like it's my room. Not without him in here with me.

No matter the location, the terrors still follow me wherever I go continuously cascading in the depths of my mind as a reminder I'm not as strong as I think I am. I wake up in a cold sweat heart pounding wildly at my chest, so much I see it. I bring my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them trying my best to somehow erase the past.

It wasn't her this time. Instead, it was one of her "eyes" who I stumbled upon after a night in a local pub somewhere in the southern area of the central division. I didn't know who he was at the time and I was six shots in when he sat next to me at the bar. We exchanged polite conversation while I eyed him up and down. He was handsome, tall, lean, with hazel eyes relatively close to the Fierce family's. It made sense for her to pick him. He had a charming, straight smile no doubt fixed after years of braces. His hair was a dirty blonde fluffed and tossed on the top of his head.

He was interested in me, but not in the way I thought he was. The alcohol clouded my judgement and I allowed myself to be swayed as he ran his gentle fingers along the back of my hand. He laced his hand with mine and led me to the hall which led to the bathroom. The hall was dimmed, with one light burned out and the other flickering in a nonrhythmic pattern. He was intimately close, caressing my cheek with the side of his nose and part of his cheek. Before I knew it, his lips were on mine. He tasted like beer and smelled like it, too.

I felt nothing as I kissed him, not the way I felt when I was kissing Logan. I hadn't felt any emotion since I left him three months prior to that moment. His hands were suddenly rough as they worked their way passed the hem of my shirt and clawed at the bare skin underneath. It hurt, but it was something and I was tired of feeling numb. I urged him to be rougher as I moved away from his lips and bit into his neck. He moaned leaning into me and I knew he liked it as I felt his hardness pressing up against me.

He was dragging me away from the hall and into the bathroom where I allowed him to fuck me indiscreetly. I was desperate to feel anything and with him, there was something. I palled around with him for two more weeks after that unbeknownst to me that he was planning on turning me in to Casandra.

I was naked, which was my appearance eighty percent of the time I was with him, sprawled across the king sized bed we splurged for at the check-in counter of the hotel we chose the previous evening. He was gone, but his phone wasn't as it viciously vibrated off of the nightstand and onto the floor. I leaned over and stared down at the ringing phone, horrified when her name was displayed on the screen. The door to the room opened as he walked in, unaware of what I just saw.

"G'morning Cherry." A pet name he chose for me when I refused to tell him my real name. I pulled the covers around my bare skin tightly allowing fear to rattle my bones. "You look as white as that sheet, you okay?" He leaned down to pick up his phone realizing he had a missed call. "Give me one minute. Work just called me." He pressed his phone against his ear as I tried to think of something to get me out of here, or at least clothed.

His conversation didn't last long as I was only able to get a shirt on before I found him hovering over me. His smile not as welcoming as I remember it being when I first met him in the bar. He had a gun resting against my stomach.

"She wants you alive, but said nothing about unharmed." I swallowed hard trying to formulate a plan in my head.

My body moved faster than my thoughts as I reached for him and disarmed him. We fumbled to the floor together each clawing our way to the dropped gun. I kneed him in the chin extending my arm as far as it would allow latching onto the handle. It was mine now and I was going to use it. I switched off the safety backing myself away from him to get a clear shot. He had a Swiss army knife on him and jammed it into the nearest body part he could get to. I screamed feeling pain accumulating in my foot. He rose to his feet towering over to me and without hesitation, I fired.

He went down, kneecap first making it extensively worse for his injury as I shot his patella. He writhed in pain on the floor next to me as I went back and forth about removing the knife from my foot. He wasn't handling his wound as well as me, but that alone was enough to attract hotel security to the room.

We were transported separately and to separate hospitals per my request. I did my research on him as soon as I felt safe enough to do so. Turns out, he's one of Casandra's top agents sent out to find me. That room was the last time I saw him in person. He frequently visits my dreams to terrorize me as I fear I may see him again.

I touch my foot through the sheet on my bed knowing the scar is there. I look around the room remembering where I am as I run my fingers through my snarled hair. Maybe I shouldn't have left.