Losing Nuka (Litmus Book 1) (21 page)

“Hello?” I call out.

The boys stop dead in their tracks, their smiles wiped from their faces, suddenly shy and timid. Aunt Jenna walks out of the kitchen area, holding out her arms for a hug. She’s giant, over six feet, so my head is basically buried in her chest when she embraces me.

“It’s been too long, Nuka,” she says soothingly.

“I know.”

She turns to Brett. “And this is the boyfriend?” she asks, biting her lip and offering her hand.

“Yeah. This is Brett. Brett, Aunt Jenna.”

She leans in and whispers in my ear. “Damn. He’s super-hot.”

Brett laughs, and I swear he even blushes a little.

Just like Lia, Jenna’s only in her thirties and doesn’t look older than twenty-five. She’s also on the police force with Lia, and they were partners for a long time. 

Uncle Drew finally makes an appearance. It’s so weird not seeing him in a suit and tie. Wearing a hoodie and dark jeans, he looks like he’s ten years younger than what he is.

It’s sad when you reach an age where your aunts and uncles could pass as your friends.

“Nuka,” he says, hugging me. “What happened to your neck?” he asks, pulling back a bit.

Crap! The scratches from last night.
“Oh, you know, clumsy me. Walked into one of those prickly trees. I wasn’t watching where I was going and it cut me up everywhere—all over my arms and everything.”

“She says clumsy, but she really means drunk,” Brett says with a charming smile.

Nudging him, I grit my teeth and play along. “My aunt and uncle don’t want to know about that,” I say, laughing.

“By all means, please fill us in on what you’ve been up to. Do you go out drinking often?” Uncle Drew asks.

“Has the inquisition already started? We’re still standing in the entryway.”

Uncle Drew grabs my hand and leads me to the couch in the living room. “Sit.”

I slump down on the couch and Brett sits next to me.

“So what’s this really about?” I ask as Uncle Drew sits on the opposite couch.

“I’ll take the boys to the rooftop to play,” Aunt Jenna says. “Give you guys the privacy you need. Brett, how good are you at playing catch? Maybe you could help me.”

Brett looks to me, silently asking me what I want him to do. I nod gently and gesture for him to go upstairs. He’ll still be able to hear everything we say anyway.

Brett stands, following Aunt Jenna and the twins outside.

“So?” I ask.

“The whole family is worried about you, Nuka.”

“Why? I’ve been gone for three years, why’s it any different now?”

“Because we’ve always known where you were. You’ve always been with Declan. He said you’ve been covered in bruises the last two times he’s seen you.”

Everything’s suddenly clear in my mind. Declan’s behind this meeting.

“This isn’t an official meeting, is it? Declan put you up to this. Where is he?” I ask, glancing around me, expecting him to walk in here any minute. Butterflies fill my stomach, while my mind fills with dread. I should’ve brought Drake instead of Brett. I don’t want him to hear this.

“He’s not here,” Uncle Drew says. “I told him it wasn’t a good idea for him to be here when I spoke to you. He’s just worried about you, we all are. He said some … alarming things.”

“He’s just jealous of my relationship with Brett,” I try to cover.

“So you know that boy loves you more than anything in this world, and you’re with Brett anyway?
Really
?” The disappointment in his tone is hard to miss.

“It’s complicated. I know I haven’t been the best friend I should’ve been these past few months, but I have a lot going on right now. I’m trying to get to know my real family. My mother, sister—”

“We’re not your
real
family? The people who accepted you and raised you as our own?”

He changes from disappointed to angry in the blink of an eye.

“I don’t mean it like that,” I say, sheepishly.

“Do you realise how much your mother has done for you? Lia always protected you. She kept you out of the media, she protected you from the monster that was your father. She …” he stops talking, realising he’s said something he shouldn’t have.

“Monster?” I ask, my voice breaking.

“Oooh, she’s going to kill me,” he mutters, his leg jumping up and down with nerves. “But, no, you need to know who your father really was.” He sighs. “He wasn’t a good person, Nuka.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Your bio mum tell you that?”

“And if she did?”

“It’s just rich, coming from her,” he mumbles. “Look, your dad did great things for this world, but he did them by doing unspeakable things. He embezzled money from the Institute to fund his lifestyle, conning the government into giving the Institute funding for his Immune workers, only to pocket the money himself. He starved and tortured your uncle Tate to manipulate your mother into doing his dirty work.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Lives were lost because of what he made us do.”

“
Us
?”

“A long time ago, your mother and I were agents for the Institute. When your dad took over as director, it was because we put him in that position. We led a takeover, basically stealing the Institute for ourselves. Will’s dad died during the struggle, along with eight others. We thought your dad was doing it to free you and the rest of us who were forced to live at the Institute. It became pretty clear that he did it to gain political advantage. He didn’t even care that lives were lost. He got what he wanted.”

“But he took over the Institute for the right reasons—to free everyone.” I try to justify. “Good people can do bad things to get what they want.” I half-smile at the words that Brett once told me.

“His selfish motivations may have been disguised as selfless deeds, but his intentions were less than moral.”

“I don’t really understand why you’re telling me this.”

“Your dad wasn’t killed by an activist group. He was killed by one of our own. Because of his manipulative ways, he ruined so many lives. People lost their family, their friends, all because of your father’s needs to take over the Institute and begin his political career. He practically forced Lia into almost marrying him. He took advantage of the fact she’d lost Will’s dad and made her believe he was the only one who supported her. All the while shutting the rest of us and the family out of her life. She was trying to work out how to escape from him, when he …”

“Died?” I croak.

“Did Lia ever tell you that your dad was a bad person? Did she ever try and persuade you to hate him like your bio mum obviously has?”

I shake my head slowly.

“No. She took you in despite your dad being responsible for her losing Will’s father. Do you
understand
that? He was responsible for her partner’s death, and she never once told you about it. Because she loves you. She never wants to see you upset, and she would never intentionally hurt you. Ever. And you’ve turned your back on her, on Jayce, on your brother and sister. They may not be your blood, but they’re your family. I don’t exactly know what’s going on with you, why you’re bruised all the time, or what those scratches are about, but if it has anything to do with that new boyfriend of yours, I need to know.”

“It has nothing to do with him,” I answer quickly.
Maybe a little too quickly.
I want to explain, but I can’t. In desperation, I lean forward and grab one of the twin’s colouring pens off the coffee table. “You know how Lia used to teach us self-defence, and Will and I would get out of hand …” I start rambling the same story I told Declan, while scribbling a note on a piece of paper. “Well, I started it up again, but with my biological sister. And she’s frickin’ brutal. Declan saw me after we’d sparred, that’s all.”

I hold up the note to him, which reads:

Whatever Declan told you, I can’t talk about it. Brett is my bodyguard, and he has super-sensitive hearing and is listening in, but this is not a cry for help. I’m happy. But I CAN’T talk about it. There will be consequences if I do. Please understand that this is what I want. They’re not forcing me to do anything I haven’t volunteered myself for. Please drop this. I’m happy!!!

That last part is underlined and I added a few exclamation points.

“You realise as the director of the Institute …” he starts.

My eyes widen more, and my head starts shaking frantically.

“That any suspicious behaviour needs to be monitored, right?”

“What suspicious behaviour?” My voice trembles.

“You’re shutting people out who’ve been there for you for nearly your whole life. We don’t have your new contact information, we can’t get a hold of you. It’s like you’ve dropped off the face of the planet. It’s suspicious behaviour for an Immune. All we’re really asking is to be kept in the loop.”

Nodding, I let out a small sigh of relief.

“You’re not in any trouble. Not at all. Just … think of this as a warning. Okay?”

“Okay, Uncle Drew.”

“So you’ll need to give me your new contact information before you leave this arvo, okay?” he says, as he scribbles down a note on the same piece of paper I did. He passes it to me and it reads:

This isn’t over. I’m going to call you in for another meeting—an official one. Bring a different bodyguard.

“Understood.”

“Now that’s out of the way,” he says, standing. “Lunch.”

***

Lunch goes smoothly, and I think Brett has even won over my uncle by the end of the meal. They get into a heated discussion over the Estates and what they’ve become, but Uncle Drew is open to hearing Brett’s opinion and even asks Brett what he thinks should be done about it. Drew says he wants to help change the way things are, but it’s difficult with the funding and political side of everything. It doesn’t feel like he’s making excuses. He seems genuinely unsure of how to fix things.

“So …” Brett says as we get back in the car to go home.

“So,” I reply.

“Your uncle is pretty cool.”

“Yeah, he is.”

“Your dad kind of sounded like he was a sociopath, though.”

“I’m kind of not surprised after what Cade told me.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

I shrug. “No, but I don’t know what I can do about it. He’s gone, and for the better it seems. It does make me wonder though …”

“Wonder what?”

I throw my head back on the headrest of my seat. “There’s things I know I should feel guilty about, but I don’t. All those things Uncle Drew said to me? I know abandoning my younger brother and sister was wrong, but I did it anyway. And the scary part is, I don’t feel all that bad about it. I miss them, but I don’t feel guilty. I feel a little bad, but it’s not like I’ve made the effort to go and see them, even though I’ve wanted to. Maybe my dad’s lack of conscience is hereditary. I’m certainly not going to learn any moral values from Cade. She encourages her own daughters to dress skanky so they can earn more money for her.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think you’re anything like either of them. You’re giving the majority of your wage to charity.”

“Yes, and I earn that money by physically hurting other people. Something else I should probably feel bad about.”

“We’re not forced to do it, Nuke. Everyone is there for a different reason, but we’re all there voluntarily. We know what we signed up for.”

“Are you all there voluntarily, though?”

He stiffens in his seat, his jaw tightening.

“Like you said, the only other option you have is to join Shane.”

“But it’s another option. We all have choices, and you didn’t have to choose to give away the money you earn, but you did it anyway, and for no other reason than you want to help people. I’d say growing up with Allira Daniels did that. Just because your biological parents aren’t exactly winners, that doesn’t mean you’re destined to turn out like them. In fact, you can make the choice to make sure you don’t.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s really that easy, Nuke. You just have to decide to be different.”

-17-

KNOCKED OUT

“Word on the street is if you knock out your volunteer tonight, Cade and Jonas are planning on graduating you from the little fish pond,” Colton says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

“And get fed to you sharks? Dunno if I’m ready for that yet. And who says ‘word on the street,’ nowadays? You weirdo.”

“Who says ‘nowadays’? You know what they say—you are who you hang with.”

“Yeah, but they pay me to hang out with you, so what does that make me?”

“The luckiest girl in the world?” He kisses my head and then shakes his butt, dancing his way out of the locker room.

Shaking my head at him, I can’t help smiling. I haven’t been fighting for long, but the team has seriously made me feel welcomed.

Ryker’s awesome and the one I spend the most time with—other than Brett. Colton and Steve are a laugh, and we’re always goofing off. Palmer’s the only one I haven’t really spent much time with. A part of me thinks he actually believes I stole Brett off him. That boy is one delusional puppy.

“Hey.” Brett’s voice comes from the doorway.

“Hey,” I say, trying to act cool, but my voice comes out breathy, and my face reflexively lights up.
Traitorous face.
“Is it true? Jonas and Cade want me to knock my opponent out tonight? I thought they didn’t like that with volunteers.”

“Minus your debut fight, you’ve gone three rounds with all of your challengers. It’s time they get taught a lesson.” The cocky smile that looks so perfect on him appears.

“I can try …”

He closes the gap between us and puts his hands on my shoulders. “Do this last test, and you’re truly one of us. Welcome to the big leagues.”

“Gee, way to make a girl feel nervous.”

“I have faith.” He moves his head teasingly close to mine. All I want him to do is move that little bit closer and touch his lips to mine. “Let’s go,” he whispers.

“Uh-huh.”

Neither of us makes a move.

He raises one of his hands to cradle my face, his eyes boring into mine. They seem unsure, but I know my eyes are begging for him to kiss me.

The door swings open. “You’re up, buttercup,” Colton yells.

We pull away quickly from each other, and Brett grabs my hand and walks me out, both of us pretending like something didn’t just nearly happen.

I shake my head. It’s so ridiculous. We’ve made out so many times now. We’re about to make out again—it’s become a ritual, a good luck kiss before a fight—and yet, I’m getting flustered about being close to him in the locker room?
Really?

The whole team hasn’t escorted me to the stage since that first night, but at least two of them do every time I fight. Then they’re flanked by security guards. I know it should make me feel stupid, needing an escort to an arena where the main objective is to fight, but the escort makes me feel powerful and confident.

As I walk up to the stage, my stomach flutters with anticipation. I don’t know what’s come over me tonight, but I’m excited to kiss Brett for the thousandth time.

Our bodies draw in close, and he cradles my face in his hands, the anticipation building. My breath hitches in my throat. He leans in and his lips touch … my forehead.

What the?

He bounds down the stairs and out of sight before I even have a chance to start breathing again.

Felix joins me on stage, but it’s all a blur. Staring straight ahead, I wait numbly in confusion for my opponent to volunteer.

Forget Brett
, I tell myself, but there’s a louder nagging voice in the back of my head asking,
Why didn’t he kiss me?

I try to focus on this impending fight, reminding myself I need my head in the game. If I can prove myself this one last time, I’ll be earning more money and making my way up. I’ll finally get this charity off the ground. We decided to have some backing before announcing it to everyone.

A man of average build, probably in his late thirties, steps forward to take his place in the volunteer corner. Felix talks to him, but it’s always the same bantering, same recycled jokes, and I don’t listen anymore.

I do take notice when he rips his shirt off, tearing the material like it were paper, making his bulging muscles now visible.

Ah, shit.

“And what else do you have in store for us?” Felix asks. “Apart from your impressive muscles.”

“I’d like to keep that a secret, thanks.”

Can he do that?

“Whoa, a blind match, ladies and gentlemen. This hasn’t happened in years!”

I recall Brett briefly mentioning something about blind matches once, but he said it was so rare I wouldn’t have to worry about it.

From what I remember of the conversation, if a volunteer refuses to show their ability before the fight, the odds will go in their favour because it generally means they have an extreme advantage they don’t want giving away too soon.

“Heatwave, do you accept this challenge?”

Brett also told me the Litmus fighter assigned to the Wild Card night has the right to refuse a blind match, allowing another willing fighter to take their spot.

But I have to do this. I’m so close to getting what I want—more fights, and money for my charity.

“I accept,” I say, raising my hand for a fist bump from my challenger.

He folds his arms across his chest, staring down at my hand with disgust.

“Oooh,” Felix says into the mike. “Disrespect in the arena here tonight! Should make for an interesting fight. What has Heatwave gotten herself into?”

What, indeed.

The first round starts, and we dance around for a bit, trying to feel each other out. There’s no doubt in my mind that I’m facing an experienced fighter. I can tell by the way he moves, the way he’s assessing me.

As much as I’m psyching myself out right now, I have to take on this challenge. If I can’t beat this average-looking guy, how am I going to go up against any of the other Litmus fighters? I just need one knockout to qualify.

Advancing on my opponent—I didn’t pay attention to his name—he’s ready for every one of my moves. Blocking, ducking, weaving, he’s anticipating everything.

He hasn’t tried to hit me yet, but he’s looking at me like I’m his dinner. He’s ready to attack, he’s just waiting for the perfect time.

The look in his eye is a little crazed, and it’s freaking me out.

Where the hell did this guy come from?

The clock’s running down, and neither of us have really got any hits in. I’ve thrown a few, but he’s blocked them all.

Finally, he starts advancing. His fists are fast. Insanely fast. Blocking his first two approaches, I’m unable to go for a third. He connects with my jaw, a loud crack reverberating through the whole venue.

Did my bones seriously just make that noise?

Ignoring the pain, I go low, attempting to attack his abdomen and chest, but an uppercut flies at me, knocking me backwards.

As I stumble, he’s on me again within a millisecond. He grabs me around my throat, slamming me onto my back on the ground.

Landing with a loud thud, I let out a shrill scream as he climbs on top of me. One of his knees grinds my right forearm into the ground, his other knee crashing into my ribs. With his hand still on my throat, I focus on burning him, making him release me.

I roll him off me and press my burning hands into his neck and chest.

The buzzer dings seconds after I regain control, making me curse under my breath.

Struggling to my corner, I’m terrified this guy might have me beat. At least in that round.

I sit on the ground in my corner of the ring as Brett reaches my side on the main floor, passing me up a water bottle.

“Are you okay?” he yells.

I nod and wince at the same time.

“Something’s not right. He’s … he knows you.”

“What do you mean?” My voice is breathless. I lean towards him to hear better.

“You have a tell. You’re a person of routine. I could anticipate what moves you’d make after fighting with you for a few weeks,” he says, talking super-fast. “He’s studied you. He knows your moves. How does he know your moves?” Now it seems like he’s talking more to himself.

“What do I do?”

“There’s nothing you can do. Apart from breaking your routine. Your strategy.”

“So, get all random on his ass.”

Brett smiles. “One way of putting it.”

“Got it.”

“Nuke, be careful. I have a bad feeling about—”

The second round buzzer dings.

Standing, I take my stance across from my adversary. Using Brett’s advice, I try to swing randomly, use different techniques and go out of order of what I normally would. But I’m a creature of habit, and throwing my routine off is throwing off my balance.

Keeping my guard up, I’m doing everything I can to try to keep him off my face which he seems so fond of messing up right now.

When he finally moves on from there, pain shoots down my left side. When he kneeled on my ribs during round one, I think he did some damage. Now he’s targeting that area, like he knows it’s the place to hit.

He takes a step back, and I finally think he’s easing up on me when he takes a good, square hit to my gut and then another to my jaw.

And now I’m coughing up blood.

I freak out for a second, thinking he’s caused internal bleeding. I’m relieved to find out it’s coming from my mouth, but he’s friggin’ knocked a tooth out.
Bastard!

Motivated by revenge, and remembering to go random, I throw myself at him with precision and determination.

But his fists don’t give a damn about my determination as they beat me into submission with each blow.

The buzzer for the second round dings, and I struggle to even limp my way to my corner.

This time, Brett jumps into the ring.

“Nuke,” he says getting in my face.

My vision’s blurry, my head wobbling. “What?” I whine.

“Nuke, Look at me,” he says, holding my head in his hands.

“I am.”

“Shit. Nuke, you’re not going to make it another round.”

“Oh, I’ll make it,” I slur.

He purses his lips. “You’re in a bad way.”

“Yup,” I agree, putting extra emphasis on the “P” sound. I’m thinking now would be a great time for a nap.

“No! Stay awake. Baby, I need you to stay awake.”

I smile. “You called me baby.”

“Yeah … I did.”

“You don’t do that nearly enough.”

He half-smiles but shakes his head. “Nuke—”

“Baby,” I correct him.

“You need to end this. The next time he punches you, hit the deck, and stay down.”

I grimace. “I can’t do that. That’s like … cheating, giving up.”

“Nuke …”

“Nah-uh.”

He rolls his eyes. “Baby. You need to, or he’ll end you. Do you understand?”

“I’m not taking a dive,” I say, determined to make it through this next round.

As the bell dings and I make my way back into the arena, it doesn’t matter what I want to do because my body doesn’t cooperate.

After a quick, swift punch to my head, I succumb to darkness anyway.

***

My breathing is staggered, my lip trembling as I try to take in stilted breaths. Attempting to roll to my side, a sharp pain shoots throughout my entire left side, and I scream out in agony.

“Nuka,” Brett’s soft voice distracts me.

Opening my eyes, I’m blinded by the overhead lights of the infirmary at Litmus. My head pounds, an ache forming behind my left eye.

I lift my right hand to my forehead; it’s covered in plaster.

“Wha—” my voice is hoarse and gravelly, my throat dry and painful.

Brett grabs hold of my left hand. “Nuka, do you know where you are?”

“I may be broken everywhere else, but my brain still works,” I choke out.

He laughs. “Glad to see he didn’t beat the attitude out of you.”

“Nuka,” a sobbing girly voice says.

My eyes meet Sasha’s as she stands at the end of my bed.

“I’m fine. Really.”
Okay, even I know I’m lying.
“So what happened? I mean … I remember the guy, and losing … Dammit, he knocked me out, didn’t he?”

“And broke your wrist, cracked two of your ribs … and …” Brett grabs a mirror and holds it up. My left eye is a little swollen, but it has been worse before. The most damage is a bruised jaw and neck. “It probably hurts to talk. He almost … he tried to …”

“Kill me? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

He nods.

“A bit extreme, but isn’t that the point of the game? So he won. He’ll become one of us, right?”