Carmen pokes her tongue into her cheek, which is what she does when she’s trying to hold back a laugh. “Sure thing, kid.”
Carmen refuses to accept that it’s been half a decade since she took me in for a year before I joined the police academy. To her, I’m still a kid.
“You wanted me?” I ask.
She grabs a Twizzler off the bowl of candy on the desk and takes a bite. “I’m worried about you. You’re either not sleeping or sleeping too much. You still barely come out of your room, and I think you’ve lost about twenty pounds since you got here.”
I pull on the mask I perfected as a child growing up with a serial killer for a father. “Anyone ever tell you you’re addicted to those things?” I nod at the red Twizzler between her lips.
She tugs off a bite. “AJ, all the time. Now stop deflecting.”
I shrug. “I’m fine.”
Rebekah chooses that moment to come over and hop up to sit on the edge of the glass desk. “She was in bed when I went to get her.”
“People who are ‘fine’ don’t sleep till 3pm,” adds AJ who has once again appeared from fucking nowhere. Seriously, I used to have better hyperawareness.
“What is this, an intervention?” I ask, falling back on my old friend sarcasm-as-a defense-mechanism.
Carmen sighs. “Sort of. There’s a therapist waiting for you on the computer in my office.”
My insides, which have been fairly dead all day, revolt. “Yeah, I’ll pass.” I turn on my heels and walk away, my body rigid with each step.
“Either you go, or AJ makes you go,” Carmen calls after me.
I don’t know whether it’s just that I’ve hit my limit for the day or if Carmen ordering me about reminds me too much of River but whatever it is, I lose my shit.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I say, my back still turned.
Carmen’s voice softens. “Freya.”
“No!” I spin around, kicking at the desk beside me so hard the computer shakes. “I’m fucking fine, Carmen and I’m not a child. I don’t need a fucking therapist, and I don’t need your help.”
AJ shifts in front of Carmen, the look on their face borderline dangerous, but Carmen waves them off. “Let her go.”
I’m still feeling petulant. Adrenaline and anger surge through my veins like hyped up blood and I’m fucking pissed Carmen called a therapist, so I slam the base of my fist into the computer screen, sending it crashing onto the concrete floor before stalking off.
I may be fucking breaking, but I don’t need to be fixed. Every broken shard reminds me of the guys, and I’d rather let those shards tear me to shreds than forget about them.
2
FREYA
Iescape to the helipad on the roof of the mountain hideout. The area is swept for snow each morning but a thin scattering of white powder has fallen in the last half hour. It’s settled on top of me as I lie here, staring at the cloud gray sky.
My head’s a mess and I’m furious and pissed off but, of all things, my mind keeps replaying the memory I had of Allie this morning. It was one of the few times in my childhood I remember feeling truly happy. I guess that’s kind of fucked given we were locked in the basement, but I only didn’t like being locked up in there alone.
That day was a week before I let one of my father’s victims escape and Allie took the blame. It’s the last memory I have of her as the girl she used to be.
Our dad shut her in the basement for three weeks after that and when she came out, she was broken. Silent. I spent days begging her to talk to me. To show me another knife trick. To practice our secret code. It was months before she even uttered a word.
I close my eyes, my heart breaking all over again at the loss. All I ever seem to do is lose the people I love.
Light footsteps stop by my side, and I open my eyes to find Carmen blocking the sun.
“You’re going to get frostbite.”
I’m still too mad to reply but she ignores my silence and carries on.
