Emerge: The Captive: (Book 3)(21)

“So you know I did exactly what I wanted to do when I hurt Lennox?” He pulled his hand away.

“No. I didn’t see that. I saw a man with a difficult gift doing the best he can to control it. I saw bravery in the face of hell.”

“And I saw nothing but weakness,” Quinn said.

“I was there, you know?” she whispered as she dabbed the sponge over his chest. “These last months, I’ve been forced to watch you fight for your life like a useless voyeur. It’s been part of my daily ‘training,’ and the only time I get to leave this house. I feel like I’ve been through it all with you.”

His jaw clenched at the knowledge that she’d probably seen him cry for his mother.

“They are weak bastards who prey on the strong. We can’t let them get to us or they’ll make us into what they are. I refuse to let that happen. This is your new normal, Quinn. I’ll give you tonight to get your shit together, but that’s all the time you’re going to get.” She eased him back against the tub and moved to wash his blistered feet, her silky waves falling over her shoulder.

She looked like an angel. So serene and humble.

Quinn’s eyes filled with unshed tears of anger and frustration. I’m a total mess, falling apart right in front of her eyes. But Santi had been on her own the whole time. She didn’t have anyone to give her a pep talk. She just survived. Day to day.

“No. No more crying for your momma,” Santi teased.

“You haven’t met my mother.” He smiled. “If I cried for her, it was because I knew she would burn this place to the ground and no one would escape.”

“Sounds like my mom.” Santi stood and held her hand out for him, turning her head away to give him privacy.

Quinn stood, letting the water roll off him, grabbing her hand for support. He stepped from the tub and took the towel she offered. “What about … Lennox?” He draped the towel around his waist and eased himself down onto the bench.

“Lennox will be fine.” Santi sifted through the linen closet, returning with first-aid supplies and a suture kit.

“She’s just a kid.”

“Can’t dwell on it or it will kill you. Len is special. She’s lived here most of her life.”

“She’s telepathic?”

“She talked to you?” Santi whirled around in surprise. “She must really like you.”

“She assured me that she was okay and it wasn’t my fault. It was like a knife in the gut every time she spoke to me. She couldn’t seem to hear me, though.”

“Lennox can only get a sense of what you’re thinking, but she only talks to the people she trusts.”

“She’s so young. She can’t be sixteen.”

“She’s thirteen.”

“Early Awakening?”

Santi nodded sadly as she stepped behind him, placing the suture kit on the bench. “Just recently. I was there. I helped her through it as best as I could, but it was awful.” She dabbed a numbing ointment over the deep cuts on his back. “They don’t know yet.”

“Livia? Hasn’t she realized?” Quinn didn’t think anything could get past Livia’s notice.

“No. Len was always going to be a powerful girl, but after her Awakening, when she should have been obviously stronger, the sensation of her power was about the same as before. I don’t know if she’ll ever be as powerful as she was supposed to be. We’re trying to shield her as long as we can. If they find out, she’ll go to market immediately and then she’ll never get the training she needs.”

“Who is ‘we?’” Quinn asked.

“Me and a few others who care,” Santi said as she threaded a curved needle.

“She can recover. I’ve seen it.” Quinn thought of Aidan’s brother, Seamas and how little his early Awakening affected him now. It took him a few generations to get there, but it was possible to recover from the limitations an early Awakening could cause. Len needed the kind of training someone like Seamas could give her.

Quinn watched her reflection in the mirror as she moved around the bathroom. “You’ve grown more aware since the last time we met.” She was more confident than he remembered. No longer the naive girl who’d volunteered to come to Soma, not knowing what awaited her inside.

“You opened my eyes to what was happening under my nose.” She shrugged. “It’s been a long three months since they took you away.”

The pinch of the needle through skin didn’t hurt, but the tug of the thread turned his stomach.

“I hate stitches,” he murmured.

“What, you squeamish?” She laughed.

“Sewing me up like a pillow, it’s just gross.” He shuddered.

“Better get used to it, tough guy, You’ve got some deep cuts. They’re not healing because of Livia’s influence and you’re still pretty young, too. Some of these are going to take a while.”

“I’m twenty-thr—no. Wait. I guess I’m not. What month is it?”

“July.”

“I guess I’m still just nineteen, then. Jeez, that seems so young.” He winced at the sharp tug of her thread.

“Sorry. Almost done with the worst one. After all the time I’ve spent with Michael, I feel like I’m at least thirty, but I’m not much older than you.”