30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Dakota

“No.”

“Yes.”

Dakota stared at it for another moment longer. The air conditioner's hum drowned out the canned laughter from the television next door. She could already smell the old carpet and bleached towels from the doorway, but that wasn’t what drew her attention.

“Absolutely not,” she said again, staring at Callum.

His shit-eating smirk only grew. “Fine. You can take the floor then.” He shouldered into the hotel room and deposited the backpack onto the bed. The one bed. The singular bed. “But I plan on getting my beauty sleep.”

Dakota’s mouth dropped open as Callum fell back against the floral patterned bedspread, dramatically bracing his head with his hands. She paused, gazing over the coffee maker, the stack of individually wrapped cups, and the packaged stirrers nestled near the powdered creamer. It was all so normal. Too normal. Then why was her heart beating so fast?

“Such a gentleman,” Dakota said, though she remained firmly planted at the doorway. She had expected a separate room—sold out. Or, at the very least, two separate beds—also sold out. Sharing a bed with Callum was temptation at best and would be the death of her at worst.

Callum looked at her like he could devour her whole, that grin still plastered against his lips. “There's the floor. The bathtub. The bed. I’ve known you for twenty fucking years, Dakota. I learned when to pick my battles.” He reached over his head, grabbed a pillow, and tossed it across the room. It landed at her feet. “In case you want to sleep in the hallway.”

Dakota kicked it back to the side of the bed, finally stepping inside to let the door close behind her. The room seemed to shrink with the loss of the sounds wading into the hallway, and the engagement of the automatic lock may as well have been a razor straight to her nerves. Callum was already staring up at the hotel’s room service menu.

“Are you just going to stand there?” he drawled, not looking away from the menu.

Dakota sent him a scowl that he didn’t see before walking to the bed and snatching the backpack from where he tossed it on the mattress. “I’m going to take a shower.” It was the only thing she could think of. The only thing that would temporarily get her out of the same room as Callum Reynolds.

“I’m ordering food,” he replied, rolling onto his side to grab the telephone from the receiver. He dialed the number, and Dakota was already scurrying into the bathroom as he waited, snapping the door shut behind her.

Dakota let out a long breath and closed her eyes, resting her head against the plastic safety placard glued to the wooden door. It was just one night. It was just Callum. She could do this. She opened her eyes and let her gaze wander amongst the white-stone countertop, the metal rack containing four folded towels, and the packaged soap bars near the chrome sink fixture.

Pushing herself from the door, Dakota dropped the backpack onto the countertop. At least it wouldn’t be a waste of a shower. Between her windswept hair and smudged makeup, one was necessary. She kicked off her shoes, the tile shockingly cold through her socks, and turned the handle in the shower.

The water jetted to life, sputtering into the plastic tub. Steam began to rise behind the cloth shower liner, fogging the mirror by the time Dakota stripped off her clothes. The hot water was a salve for her soul, and she let it cascade down her shoulders and back for a long minute as she thought.

There was a new sensitivity down to her bones. She hadn’t been in this kind of close proximity with Callum in twelve years. At one point, she never thought she would be in this close proximity with him again. That point was mere months ago. Shaking her head, Dakota lathered the soap against the washcloth and rubbed her arms and legs until they were raw .

Get ahold of yourself.

But controlling her rapid heartbeat and the fluttering moths in the pit of her stomach was easier said than done. She didn’t know whether it was out of cowardice or self-preservation, but she remained in the shower until her fingers pruned and her skin had turned a blotchy shade of red. Hiding in the bathroom wouldn’t work for much longer. With the hesitation of a child who didn’t want to give up their favorite toy, she shut off the water and stepped out of the shower.

By the time Dakota finished drying, the thin towel was nearly soaked, but the clean scent of the fibers was the only thing keeping her centered. She breathed it in, letting the bleach and citrus flood her senses. She wrapped her wet hair in the towel before turning toward the backpack on the countertop.

She rifled through Callum’s extra clothes, ignoring the feeling of seeing their toiletries mingling with one another, and finally wrapped her hand around the stack of clothes he had stuffed into the bottom.

Dakota’s heart seized in her chest as she pulled the clothes through the zippered pocket, her lips parting in shock when she looked down at what he had packed her. Lace. Silk shorts. Strapped tank top. She knew exactly which drawer these had been deeply buried in. Her face heated. Of everything he had to rifle through to find them…

“ Callum! ”

His chuckle was closer than she expected, curving beneath the gap between the door and the frame. “Something I can help you with, princess?”

The pink flush to her cheeks was evident, even through the fog coating the mirror. “You couldn’t have found a different pair of pajamas?”

“What’s wrong with those?”

“What’s wrong with—“ Dakota cut herself off, bundling the silk and lace in her hands. She should have expected it. This was Callum Reynolds she was dealing with. “I’m putting these back and wearing your clothes. There's no way.”

She could imagine the dark glint in his eye, the dangerous smirk that curled the corner of his mouth, and how his forearm would inevitably rest on the doorframe above his head.

“Whatever you like,” he bemused. She braced for the follow-up, knowing he always strived for the last word. “But seeing you in my clothes while I wear nothing is still a win. Choose wisely.”

And there it was. Dakota heated further at the thought, pleasure and longing twining together in her lower belly. Shaking her head, she tugged on the silk shorts and tank top, feeling the lace tickle against her upper thighs. Gods, what a fucking nightmare. She should have known he would pull some shit like this.

She slipped from the bathroom, brushed past him, and immediately tucked herself beneath the bedsheets. His chuckle echoed through the room, the third strand of her longing, as he crossed to the bathroom.

“Food will be here soon. They’ll knock on the door when they drop it off.”

Dakota sighed in relief when the bathroom door clicked shut behind him, but she buried her face to scream in the nearest pillow when she heard the water sputter against the bottom of the tub. Control had always been a push and pull between them, a delicate dance of giving and taking. But she was wildly out of control now, down to the fabric skating against her skin.

The knock on the door came not long after Callum locked himself in the bathroom, and Dakota tore from the bed long enough to retrieve the metal cart. Beers, cheeseburgers, and potato wedges. He even got her favorite meal. Asshole.

Steam swirled into the hallway as Callum opened the bathroom door, and he emerged from it wearing nothing but gray sweatpants. Water dripped from his dark locks, trailing in rivulets down his bare shoulders, broad chest, and hardened abs. Her mouth went dry as he ran a tattooed hand through his hair, and she was extremely thankful for the wall of pillows she had built to separate the two halves of the bed.

“Really?” he asked with a smirk as he gestured toward the bed. He leaned over the mattress to pluck a few potato wedges from her plate, popping them into his mouth before grabbing his beer from the metal cart.

Dakota blew out a long breath at the sight of the corded muscle lining his back, wider and with more ink than twelve years ago. She wondered what it would feel like if she coasted her hand along it, whether she would remember what parts of her touch would make him tremble. Every thought drained from her mind as though Callum himself pulled the plug when he sank onto the other side of the bed.

“Are we sleeping with this between us, then?” Callum said, lifting the beer to take a sip from the glass. “Unexpected, princess. I’ll give you that.”

She hid her grin behind a bite of her cheeseburger. “It’s a win-win for both of us. You get your silk pajamas, and I still get the bed. And you as far from me as possible.”

Something flickered in the gray of his eyes, a shadow of a challenge that Dakota had no interest in decoding. His grin deepened as he leaned forward to take a few more potato wedges. “For now.”

Considering Dakota woke the next morning with Callum’s arm around her waist and her leg flung over the pillows still set between them, she was grateful for the barrier. She didn’t want to know what position they would have ended up in if it hadn’t been there.

The day was already gloomy. Rain plunked onto the hotel room window, dripping down the glass before settling into a small puddle at the base of the metal windowsill. Dakota could see her reflection in the gray, and she didn’t want to note how it looked like her mirror image was crying. Instead, she sipped her hot coffee, the steam basking her face in a warm bath.

Blackdon looked as it always had. Streets teeming with young business-goers, black umbrellas bobbing through the maze of skyscrapers and hotels. Now that she was back for the first time in months, the city almost seemed grayscale in comparison to the colorful art murals of Norwich. Maybe it was the boarded windows at street level from the recent riots that left the downtown region reeling. Maybe it was the Iron Guard patrolling in groups of four, their high-powered rifles clutched tightly in their hands.

Whatever the case, Blackdon didn’t feel as it once did—a shell of itself stripped raw and flayed within an inch of existence. When she watched closer, she saw how the business-goers didn’t stop for morning coffees as they once had. They power-walked past alcoves and open doors, not looking up to greet other pedestrians, keeping their eyes trained on the sidewalks.

“What are you looking at?” Callum asked. She glanced over her shoulder, her heart sparking to a devastating beat when her eyes landed on him. He ran a hand through his hair as he came to stand next to her, his gaze sweeping over the street ten stories below them.

Dakota shrugged as he took the coffee from her hands, took a small drink, and returned it. “Just thinking about how much has changed since I lived here.” She noticed the stiffening of his shoulders but didn’t comment on it. “Blackdon used to be this haven for the weird and quirky. Now it’s—“

“Not what it was,” Callum finished for her. She nodded her reply, taking another sip of the coffee. “We’ll get some answers this morning, I’m sure. I’ve got that meeting. I’ll swing around and pick you—“

“I’m coming with you,” Dakota interrupted, swiveling on her toes to track his movements through the room. “You aren’t leaving me here.”

Callum looked at her for a long minute before shaking his head. “It’s too dangerous. If he finds out who you are…”

“I’m already involved. The Fieldhouse, the prison, the distills.” She emphasized the last word and was pleased to note Callum’s discomfort as he broke his stare from hers. She set the coffee on the desk and crossed her arms over her chest. “Who are you meeting with?” The question was obvious, one she should have asked earlier.

Callum silently packed the backpack, stuffing their extra clothes and toiletries inside without much regard for their wellbeing. When he didn’t answer, Dakota took another step closer.

“I thought when you came to pick me up last night that it was our chance to do this together,” she said softly. She pushed back the memory of the relief she saw in Dominic’s eyes, pushed back the hate she saw in Ethan’s, and focused solely on Callum. He bracketed the backpack with his fists, leaning onto them as he glared down at the open bag. “Or was that all for show to get me out here?”

Another long minute passed, and Dakota didn’t dare breathe, afraid that even the movement of air would thrust him over the edge.

“Fuck,” he finally said, pushing himself off the desk. He ran his tattooed hand through his hair again, and Dakota couldn’t help but remember what those hands had felt like when she woke up to them clutching tightly to her waist. His chin dropped to his chest, and she knew she had him beat. “I’m meeting Vanguard.”

“The criminal organization?” Dakota asked, struggling to maintain neutrality in her tone.

Callum nodded. “We’re dropping the first load of distills this morning. They want to see how they test.”

“I thought…” Dakota trailed off, her eyes searching Callum’s face. “Kane and I didn’t finish the distills in time. Not the ones that we—“

“We were able to recover the first batch from the Vipers,” Callum went on, “but Duke promised them the second batch you’re making with Kane. Originally, we planned to use those distills instead, but…” He blew out a breath. “We traded for both to keep the money flowing from the Syndicate.”

Dakota swallowed. “I’m still coming. ”

“This is dangerous shit, Dakota. Vanguard doesn’t fuck around with—“

“I’m coming,” she said with a finality she hoped would stick. Nevermind her quivering knees, the tremble to her hands, or the slight shake to her voice. “If I’m going to help Kane with the distills, I want to see what they do.”

Callum let his head tip back. His face was half-cast in golden shadow from the lamp beside the bed. Outside, thunder rolled across the sky. “If you come,” he started slowly, “you do everything I say—I’m serious, Dakota.” She clamped her teeth shut at the warning that marred his tone. “Everything. These men won’t hesitate to put a bullet in your head. Do you understand?”

Her nod was curt and quick, though her stomach anxiously clenched. Was this a terrible idea? Possibly. Could she potentially gauge the Syndicate’s involvement in Lyra’s disappearance? Hopefully. That was all the leverage she needed.

The rain subsided long enough for their ride through traffic, though the roads were still wet enough for water to splash onto their shoes. The sky was just as overcast and gloomy as earlier that morning, and Dakota tried her best not to think of it as an omen. A bad one. Considering all of the other shit she had been drowning in as of late, it was hard not to come to that conclusion.

They stopped thirty minutes from the hotel next to a flickering neon sign advertising for storage space. A long building with six green garage doors split the empty parking lot in half. The plants that grew through the cracks in the cement were wilted with brown edges around the leaves. It was off the beaten path enough that Dakota knew this was not the place for run-of-the-mill storage, nor did it ever offer such a service to the public.

Callum parked his motorcycle beneath an awning on the far side of the building. Water gushed through the gutter, pooling in the divets and curves of the cement. Dakota was the first off the bike, and she scanned the surrounding area with an eager eye, but nothing out of the ordinary popped out. If she hadn’t known what they were here for, it could have just been another storage unit in a rural area of town.

“Remember what I said,” Callum murmured as he rested their helmets on the bike’s seat. “You’re the new alchemist wanting to see your products in action. We have no prior history. And—“

“And don’t speak until I’m directly spoken to,” Dakota finished. She adjusted the backpack straps against her shoulders. “I’ve got this, Callum.”

He didn’t look convinced and even looked a shade paler than he should have. He put his hand against her lower back and urged her forward, stopping outside the third garage door. He moved his hand away from her, rapping his knuckles against the hollow metal. Sharp ticks echoed into the building, louder than expected for a storage unit. A few moments passed, and Dakota’s heart ratcheted with every second before footsteps could be heard on the other side.

“You’re late,” a voice crackled through the old speaker mounted outside the door.

Behind her, Callum snorted. “I’m five minutes early.”

There was a ten-second pause, and then the garage door began to rattle as it slowly lifted. It came to a clattering halt halfway to the peak. Callum ducked underneath, and Dakota followed suit after a breath of hesitation.

She didn’t know what she was anticipating, but it wasn’t what stood before her. A completely open space replaced the storage unit's standard cement floors and metal walls. Fencing surrounded the middle of the building, blocking off where the floor had been dug out to create a large dirt pit. Old, worn carpet ran around the perimeter, and a handful of men stood alongside the banister, their forearms resting on the metal as they watched the hole below.

A broad-chested man in a three-piece pinstripe suit and a dark pair of sunglasses climbed a set of stairs to their right, and he reached out a thick hand as he approached them. “Callum Reynolds,” he said in a suave, no-bullshit tone. “I thank you for your diligence in returning my product to me.”

A roar and a crunch sounded from the pit, followed by a groan from the men watching from the railing. Whatever was happening down there was just out of view from where Dakota stood.

“Duke sends his regards for your patience,” Callum answered as he shook the man’s hand. “Wanted me to pass on that we’ll have the other half of your product after the equinox.”

The man didn’t respond to him but turned his unwanted attention toward Dakota. She was determined not to wither under his stare. “And who are you?”

“Dakota Montgomery,” she answered, not taking her eyes away from where the man hid behind his sunglasses. “Newest alchemist to the Brotherhood. ”

The man’s brows ticked upward. “Oh? I didn’t realize alchemists came so good-looking these days.” He reached forward to envelop her hand within his, lifting it to brush it against his lips. Her stomach clenched in disgust, but she kept her face neutral as he returned her hand to her. “Alexei Orlov. My associates call me Mr. Orlov. You…you may call me Alexei.”

Alexei removed his sunglasses, and Dakota’s chest jolted when her eyes landed on his face. One eye was a stark shade of blue, like the depths of the cold sea to the north of Norwich. The other was fake—an opaque glass frame settled in the socket.

“Alexei,” Dakota replied smoothly, swallowing back her shock at the eye. “Thank you for having me.”

He gestured them forward with a sweep of his large, gold-ring-clad hand. “Our acquaintance said you were interested in seeing your work in action.”

Callum stiffened beside her, but Dakota stepped forward as Alexei led her to the railing. “I’ve been employed with the Brotherhood for a month now. I’ve yet to see the result of the distillations I’ve been tasked with making.”

Alexei leaned a heavy arm onto the iron. “For an alchemist associate out of Blackdon, I’m certainly surprised you haven’t seen the distillations in action yet.”

Dakota let out a huffed laugh. “You’ve done your homework.”

He returned it with a smirk. “One must if one is to run a successful organization like mine. I vetted the Brotherhood for months before partnering with them. Now my men have supplies the governors can only dream of.”

“Supplies that include killing innocent civilians, I gather?”

Callum’s finger hooked into the belt loop of her jeans, giving a warning-filled tug. Still, she didn’t remove her expectant stare from Alexei.

A barking laugh followed a pregnant pause. “I like her. Doesn’t take a man’s word at value.” He snapped his fingers, pointing at the four men in the pit. “You shouldn’t.”

A gate beneath her feet swung open, and an older man carrying a small wooden box trundled into the pit. He pried the crate open and retrieved four vials, quickly handing them to each man. He hobbled back toward the gate, closing it with a click just as the men in the pit uncorked the vials and drained the distillations into their mouths.

“You might not agree, Dakota Montgomery,” Alexei said as the men fell to their knees and let out gasping shouts of pain. “But this beats bombing the shit out of the city and the civilians to get the job done.”

In a flash, the men were back on their feet, their fingers twitching at their sides as they assessed one another. The first to move lunged toward the man closest to the gate, tossing him across the pit with the ease of something inhuman. The second man hit the iron gate below them, splintering the iron with a loud crack that echoed through the building.

“Strength. Mind over matter, if you will.”

Dakota barely had time to lift her hand to her mouth before the second man was back on his feet. He moved, crossing the pit in the blink of an eye and cutting the throat of the man who had thrown him. The first man collapsed to the ground, blood surging from the wound and staining the dirt red.

“Speed. Transfer velocity and energy manipulation.”

As though the third man expected it, he dodged a mind-numbingly fast blow from another opponent.

"Divination. Temporary knowledge of the future."

The battle started between the three remaining men as the old man ambled out of the broken gate with a different set of vials. It was a push-and-pull of speed and strength that was difficult to keep up with in real-time. Bodies blurred until nothing but blobs of color tornadoed through the pit. Bones shattered, and blood bathed the walls. The men tore each other to pieces in a mad dash for self-preservation.

“If this is the product of Veils and Vitals, it surely makes you wonder what we could do if a Void were found.”

Dakota swallowed hard, unable to stop watching the bloodbath consuming the men below. “Why are you doing this?” she finally asked, uncertain whether Alexei would hear it over the snarls and shouts from the pit below.

Alexei glanced down at her, the fluorescent light glinting off the glass of his fake eye. “Supremacy. Control. Taking back what doesn’t belong to the governors. To allow those hiding for far too long to reemerge.”

She tore her eyes away as the last man fell to the dirt, his body disfigured and covered in what should have been fatal wounds. They were already well on their way to healing. “You’re talking about the marked.”

Alexei’s brows rose, a smirk kissing the corner of his mouth. “Am I?” He turned away, heading toward the back corner where a metal door had been propped open.

“Wait!” Dakota called, barely stopping herself from grasping his wrist. “I’m looking for my friend. Maybe you’ve—“

“I don’t know anything about Lyra Jones or her disappearance.”

Dakota narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t tell you her name. ”

“I appreciate the chat, Dakota. Feel free to come back anytime. Callum, the crates are in the back for unloading.”

Alexei strolled away from them, the casualness of a man in charge, but there was a promise of violence in his eye. And it didn't take long for her to notice that his men averted their gaze from him, too.