Weapons of War_Explicit Edition Read online

  “They won’t,” I promise him calmly.

  Everyone turns to look at me, surprise on their faces. They probably forgot I was here.

  “Yeah,” Gussy agrees viciously, “because we’re gonna teach ‘em a lesson.”

  “No. We’re not.”

  “Oh, you’re on Kevin’s side? What a surprise.”

  “If we step in and start a fight with the Pikes over a Hive girl, we’re stepping on Hive toes. We’re starting a fight with Marlow. We can’t win against Marlow. Neither can the Pikes. We let the Hive handle it. They probably already have.”

  “Vin didn’t come back last night,” Kevin confirms darkly. “He or the head of the Stables, Bennett.”

  “He got back this morning.”

  “Bennett did?”

  “Nope. Just Vin.”

  The room absorbs that statement, ingesting it with even less gusto than they’re giving Bray’s eggs. We all know what it means. Not a guy in this room would have willingly taken a walk with Vin the way Bennett did. Alone. In the dark.

  “Then not only have the Pikes been handled,” Kevin surmises quietly, “but so has Bennett. There’s going to be a shake up in the Hive after this. We’d be smart to stay away for a while. See how it pans out.”

  “What about Freedom?”

  “She’ll be fine, Ry. She’s strong.”

  Kevin looks at his brother with carefully honed confidence. He keeps his real feelings just under the surface, saving his brother from them and the truth because he knows how dangerous the Hive is about to become; inside and out. But in reality, there’s nothing we can do for Freedom, or any of the women with her. There’s nothing we can do for anyone. We can hardly keep ourselves alive, and what Kevin and Ryan feel for Freedom is nothing but a burden.

  In this world, love is a liability.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Vin

  I take a shower as soon as I get inside. It’s cold, but I’m used to that. I grew up a squatter in a hundred different buildings, and when you live like that, you don’t expect things like hot water, cold milk, or warm meat. A lifetime of lowered expectations made the transition into the apocalypse easy for me. In a lot of ways, I was already there. I was just waiting for everyone else to sink to my level. Now here we all are and ain’t it something? Isn’t it everything I dreamed it would be?

  “V.”

  I smirk, my hands full of soap and myself. “What’s up, Asher? You here to watch me wash my balls?”

  “You solid, man?”

  “Not at the moment but if you talk dirty to me, I could easily get there.”

  “I’m not talkin’ about your junk.”

  “I know you’re not,” I reply grimly, my smirk fading; falling down my face with the water from the rusted faucet over my head. It smells like the ocean because that’s where it’s coming from; the Sound. Everything at the Hive is either coming from or going to the Sound.

  I look over my shoulder, meeting Asher’s eyes. He’s hanging back, leaning his large body against the dented doorframe. He’s being casual. Too casual to be real, especially for two dudes in the showers.

  “You wanna talk about it?” he asks.

  I laugh, shaking my head. “What the fuck?”

  “I mean it.”

  “So do I. Do you even know me? Why would I want to talk about it?”

  “Because you liked her. And you don’t like anybody.”

  I release a frustrated breath, turning away from him. “I’m not crazy about you right now.”

  “I’m not gonna beg.”

  “And I’m not gonna talk about her.”

  “Okay.”

  It feels like the end of the conversation. For me, it never should have started, but it’s definitely over.

  Asher must not agree because he doesn’t leave. As far as I can tell, he doesn’t even move. Just stands there watching me shower, silent and creepy as shit.

  “I feel like I should charge you for the show,” I tell him dryly.

  “You’re going soft.”

  “Like I said, if you talked dirty…”

  “Still not talking about your dick, man,” he replies patiently. “I’m talking about your spirit.”

  “Jesus.” I grunt with annoyance. I slap the spigot closed. It squeaks back in shrill agreement. “What is going on with you today?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “I had a rough night.”

  “You killed your dad.”

  “And that says ‘soft’ to you?” I shoot back angrily.

  Asher doesn’t answer. He watches as I snap my grayed towel off the hook on the wall, wrapping it tightly around my waist. I take a steadying breath before turning to face him, everything inside me carefully stowed below the surface where neither of us can see or feel it.

  I spread my arms wide, opening myself up to his inspection. “What do you want from me, man? You want me to cry? You want me to bleed? What?”

  His face is stone, hard as my heart thumping heavily inside my chest. “He’s pushing you. He’s trying to break you, brother. I just want to make sure he didn’t get it done.”

  Marlow. At its core, none of this is about me or Seven or even my deadbeat, dead-ass dad. It’s about Marlow. Everything in my life always comes back to him, and I think that pisses me off more than anything. More than Seven. More than Lucio. More than Asher standing here making me talk about how the fuck I feel. I can’t take a piss without tracing it back to Marlow and his hold over me. It sends me into a blind rage that boils under my skin, evaporates the cold water on my body to hot steam that fogs around me like a poisonous gas, settling in my lungs and choking me near to death.

  “Fuck this day,” I growl angrily. I lean back against the wall behind me, a broken tile digging into my spine like a dagger at my back.

  “Answer my question,” Asher insists.

  “Which one? It feels like you’ve asked a million of them.”

  “Are you solid?”

  I take him and his tone seriously this time. I take the situation seriously because the room is closing in on me, reality pushing in, leaving no room for jokes or jabs. The darkness I’ve been hiding in all night is burning away to bright daylight and suddenly I can see everything. Every awful goddamn thing. Every question is suddenly a direct hit to my chest because there’s nowhere left for me to run.

  “Yeah,” I reply roughly. “I’m solid.”

  “You sure?”

  I glare at him hard.

  He nods in understanding. “Good.”

  “Are we done here? Or are you hoping to hang around and catch another show?”

  “Not much to see, man.” He grins as he hoists himself off the doorframe. “Like I said. You’re going soft. Especially around the middle.”

  I frown, glancing down at my body. My stomach is tight; olive skin pulled taut over the low rise and fall of my abdomen at rest.

  “Made you look,” Asher chuckles, disappearing down the hallway.

  “Fuck you! What are you, a toddler?”

  “I know you are, but what am I?”

  I shake my head, running my hand absently over my stomach and muttering, “Dick.”

  When I walk through the Hive toward my room, I get looks from everyone. Looks that silently say everything Asher did in the showers. Looks that ask too many questions. They make too many assumptions.

  I put them all to rest with a look of my own. One that says ‘Do I look broken, motherfucker?’ because if these idiots think a girl and a junkie are going to be enough to put an end to me, they don’t know me like they think they do. No one does.

  I stalk slowly through the Hive, letting everyone see me in nothing but a towel and the armor of my own skin. I let them see the scars from the countless battles I’ve fought and won, the endless parade of hell that’s marched right over me, never putting me down. Not for long. Never forever. I let them see me for what I am – more resilient than a Risen. Larger than life.

  Bigger, better, and s
tronger than Marlow and all his games will ever be.

  He scored a hit on me today, I won’t deny that. He’s in the lead. But the tide, she always turns, and it’s only a matter of time before my day comes. I just have to be patient.

  I make it to my room, my skin peppered with goosebumps and my blood slow in my veins, but my chin held defiantly high. I’m ready to get dressed and get to work. To put one foot in front of the other and force the world into motion past this moment. This day. This drama that everyone is hell bent on stirring up around me. I don’t want to hear about any of it ever again because what’s the point? It’s done. I finished it last night and burned it to ash this morning with my clothes covered in their blood. In their memory.

  I push my door open, planting one naked foot inside. That’s as far as I make it.

  “What the hell is this?” I groan.

  Inside my small room, on my bed and the floor, are the women of the Stables. All seven of them.

  No. Six, not seven. Not anymore.

  “Hey, Vin,” Freedom greets me quietly.

  Even in the dim glow from the lantern on the nightstand, I can see her eyes are puffy and rimmed red. The tip of her pert nose is pink like she’s been outside in the cold, but I know that’s not it. She’s been crying. They all have.

  My shoulders sag unhappily. “What are you all doing in here?”

  “Didn’t Marlow tell you? He said he was going—”

  “He told me,” I interrupt brusquely. “Bad idea. Which one of you geniuses came up with it?”

  Freedom stares at me in a strange kind of shock. “All of us. We all voted for you.”

  “You shouldn’t have.”

  “What choice did we have?”

  “Not this one. It shouldn’t be me.”

  “It obviously shouldn’t have been Bennett either.”

  “Better him than me.”

  “No,” she disagrees sadly. “It wasn’t better.”

  I hesitate. Her Southern drawl is sagging, drooping low like the bows of a willow under the weight of full bloom. I’ve never seen her face so somber.

  It makes me weirdly angry.

  “Fuck you,” I snap at her.

  She blinks in surprise. “Fuck you too.”

  “No, I mean it. Fuck you!”

  “Fuck you!”

  I laugh bitterly. “This seem healthy to you? Huh? Does this seem like a good fit? I’m not right to take care of any of you. I’m an Arena man. Fighting and killing; that’s what I know. That’s what I do.” I twist the ring on my finger. It feels heavy and foreign. Cold against my suddenly feverish skin. “I’ve put two bodies in the Sound today. I’m not in the mood for this. I’m no good for you girls. Tell Marlow you want someone else.”

  Natalie shakes her head gently, her short, brown hair brushing her shoulders. “No. We want you. We need you.”

  “No one needs me.”

  “Marlow does. We do.”

  “Seven did,” Stormy whispers.

  My heart stops in my chest. Just for a second. Just long enough for my ears to feel like they’re going to pop from the sudden shift in pressure inside my body.

  “We don’t care what bodies you dropped in the Sound today,” Onyx tells me meaningfully. “We want to hear about the ones that didn’t make it into the Sound.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Bennet and the Pike. They’re dead, aren’t they?”

  They stare at me, the whole herd of them, with their big, round eyes and their soft hair, like a bunch of pretty little ponies gracefully demanding the truth.

  I’m so damn tired, I actually give it to them.

  “Yeah,” I confirm flatly. “They’re dead.”

  “Good,” Stormy says, her voice cut with feeling. Her eyes flicker in the low light; dark and angry. Unapologetically vengeful. “I hope you made it slow.”

  “I did.”

  “For Seven.”

  “For the Hive,” I correct her.

  They let me have the lie, all of them. They let me live it, because it’s the only way I can keep on going and be me. The me I understand. The me I can function as. I don’t know another way to be and I’m too old to start learning now. But that’s okay. They don’t want emotional Vin or smitten Vin or hard-on for the wrong fuckin’ girl Vin, and that’s good because that guy went into the water with Madeline and the sheet and the stones wrapped up tight on top of her. He’s sucking in cold saltwater, gagging on the unbearable bitterness of what never was and never will be.

  “Out of all of the men here,” Cobalt tells me gently, her meek nature somehow more muted in the crowded space of the warm room, “Seven hated you the most.”

  I chuckle, crossing my arms over my bare chest. “Thanks for that.”

  “She hated you more than the others because she liked you.”

  “It pissed her off,” Onyx agrees with a small smile. “She didn’t want to like anyone here. Not us and definitely not any of the men. But she couldn’t help it. Not when it came to you.”

  Freedom smirks. “She thought you were hot.”

  “And funny.”

  “And smart.”

  “And hot.”

  “I said that already,” Freedom reminds Onyx.

  She winks at me. “It’s worth saying twice.”

  A ripple of laughter rolls through them, light and delicate. It dies before it can build, but it changes the mood of the room and the women inside it. They look at me appraisingly, their eyes scanning my body. Eating up the truth like a delicacy. Like a dessert they haven’t had in years.

  Not a lot of good looking guys are left in the world. I can say without conceit that I’m one of the best looking left in the city. Maybe the best looking. I was a nine when the world was flooded with handsome assholes, so with what talent is left to compete with, I’m pretty confident I’m king of the mountain. But pretty doesn’t buy you what it used to. It’s a currency that went out with the Yen the second the first zombie sunk its teeth into its brother’s back. Attractive these days has less to do with your face and more to do with your speed. Strength. Cunning. Lucky for me, I’m all that and more. I’m the total package.

  And still I feel powerless.

  “You liked her too, didn’t you?” Breanne asks boldly.

  I snap my eyes to hers, hard and brutal. “I don’t like anyone. And if I’m gonna do this job, you all have to get that through your heads. I don’t like any of you. You’re work, just like the Arena. And I never gave a shit about a single one of them so don’t expect me to get attached to you. Got it?”

  She nods stiffly, hurt bruising her brown eyes. The other women in the room do too, but they aren’t affected the way Breanne is. They’re older and wiser. They don’t buy my bullshit. They’ve been watching me. They’ve seen me with Seven and Hyperion. They’ve seen my weaknesses. It’s why they voted for me to take this job. They know that given enough time, I could grow to love them, and they’re right.

  I fucking hate them for it.

  2 Years Later

  9 AO

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Trent – Twenty-Three

  “Are you nervous?”

  Kevin chuckles, looking down at his little brother. Except Ryan isn’t so little anymore. He’s seventeen, nearly as tall as Kevin, just as wide, and almost as strong. I’ve seen the reality hit Kevin when they spar. When Ryan rounds on him with full strength, he can knock Kevin back on his ass.

  He hates it.

  Kevin rolls his shoulders, loosening his muscles. “Why would I be nervous?”

  Ryan shrugs. “I don’t know. Everything just seems off lately. It’s weird.”

  His eyes roam the Arena, checking the crowd. The girls in clean clothes. The men swapping dirty coins. Same shit, different day, and yet it’s more than that in that it’s less. It’s quiet. Muted in a way I’m not used to at the Hive.

  I sit forward in my seat one bleacher row above Ryan. I nudge his shoulder gently with my hand. “
I know what you mean.”

  “You feel it too?”

  “I don’t feel anything. I’m saying I hear it.”

  “Hear what?”

  “The silence.”

  “How can you hear silence?”

  “How can you see darkness?”

  He sighs heavily. “This is going to turn into a riddle, isn’t it?”

  “Knock, knock.”

  “Who’s there?”

  I smirk. “Nothing.”

  Ryan chuckles, shaking his head in disgust. “I walked right into that.”

  “You only have yourself to blame,” Kevin confirms.

  “Seriously, though,” Ryan complains. “You guys have noticed it too, right? How quiet it is everywhere?”

  “The Risen population is thinning,” I comment by way of agreement.

  “Yes! We saw, like, what? Three Risen in the last couple days. That’s insane.”

  Kevin looks unimpressed. “It’s a good thing. It means we’re winning.”

  “Winning what?”

  “We’re taking the world back.”

  “What are we going to do with it once we have it?” I ask dryly.

  Kevin grins at me. “Whatever we want.”

  “I’m pretty sure doing ‘whatever we want’ is what got us here in the first place.”

  “Yeah, well, when I say ‘whatever we want’, I mean eating a donut and surfing the internet. Not corrupting genetic code.”

  “It’s cool that it’s quiet outside, but a quiet Hive is creepy,” Ryan continues complaining. “Where is everybody?”

  Kevin shakes his head dismissively. “It’s been slowly dying out ever since Vin was sent to the Stables. It’s nothing new.”

  “If you look at it outside the scope of the last couple of years, broaden it to the last four years, even five, it’s completely new,” I point out. “Shockingly so.”

  “Is that what we’re doing?” he asks me blandly. “Analyzing the last five years of data?”

  “Judging by your tone, we are not. But I am.”