Bridgette didn’t think – she just acted. Anger so powerful coursed through her veins, controlling her movements. With one quick hook of her arm, she had her father’s trapped, the gun clattering to the pavement. Thrusting her elbow upwards into her father’s temple, she heard a satisfying grunt before he dropped to the ground.
The New World soldiers who had been kneeling on the ground were on their feet, disarming the rebels who were trying their best to get off their own shots. A few ran toward her. Avoiding them easily, Bridgette sent two crashing to the ground unconscious. She could hear Charlotte and the others fighting as well, just as she heard Roman yell out her name.
She turned toward him instinctively, his voice like an anchor amongst the chaos. Just as she was about to look in his direction, his body appeared in front of her a second before the area exploded into a deafening bang. The air smelled of gun powder. Her ears began ringing instantly, blocking out any other sounds.
Roman’s body seemed to fly back into her, crashing them both into the ground. The weight of him knocked the breath right out her, leaving her gasping beneath him. Something warm was washing over her stomach. Working her jaw to try and relieve some of the pressure in her ears, she started to push on Roman, calling out to him to get off her.
There was a funny wheezing sound nearby. It took her only a second to realize it was coming from him. Panic ignited in every inch of her body. Struggling more, Bridgette managed to wiggle her way out from beneath Roman just as her sister and McKay appeared beside her.
“There are more soldiers coming,” Charlotte said, her breathing coming out in hard gasps. “We need to get out of…” her voice trailed off as she saw what Bridgette was staring at in horror.
A large, dark red spot, almost burgundy, was spreading rapidly across Roman’s midsection. His hand tried to cover to most of it, but it was doing nothing to stem the flow. Dark blue eyes looked up to meet hers, filled with pain and longing. Bridgette rapidly blinked back the tears threatening to blur her vision.
“We –” her voice came out as a squeak. She cleared it, trying her best to speak through the overflowing emotions. “We need to get him help,” she said. “He’s been shot.”
“The General did it,” Tyler said, coming up beside them. “I saw him aim at Bridgette, but I couldn’t get to her fast enough. Roman intercepted it just in time.”
“Jesus,” Pete cursed. “He was going to shoot you.” He looked at Bridgette in shock.
Trent came running up, crouching over as he took huge, gulping breaths of air. “I tried to get him,” he said between pants, “but they had a car waiting. There was nothing I could do.”
“You need to go,” Roman wheezed. Blood pooled at the corners of his mouth. Her heart squeezed to the point she thought it might burst. This was bad. Really bad. She didn’t need to be a doctor to know he was losing too much blood, too fast.
“We need to get him a doctor,” she said frantically. “Hurry, someone needs to get help.”
Pete knelt down, taking her by the shoulders gently. “Bridge, there are
a lot
more soldiers heading this way. Charlotte saw it when she was searching Ludwig. We can’t stay here any longer or we’ll all be arrested.”
Bridgette looked up at her sister. Charlotte’s face was pale, her eyes stuck on Roman. Bridgette looked down to see Roman was staring back at Charlotte, something unreadable in his eyes.
“Bridgette!” Trent urged, snapping her attention back.
“I can’t leave him,” she said.
Seamus cursed in the background. A large, grey van squealed up beside them, the side door sliding open with a loud bang. A girl with bright red hair leaned out, her eyes taking in the scene quickly.
“Everybody in,” she ordered. “Pixie’s got something rigged up to give us a head start, but we need to scram, pronto.”
“Shit,” Pete swore. “Bridgette we really need to go.”
“And we’re
not
taking him,” Seamus added.
“I can’t just leave him here,” she argued, tears burning in her eyes. She looked to Charlotte for support, but her sister seemed lost in thought, her eyes still watching Roman in horror.
“You have no choice,” Pete said, grabbing her arm. She tried to squirm away from him, but that only made him strengthen his hold as he all but dragged her toward the van. “Charlotte, move.”
Bridgette looked back to see her sister slowly turning to head toward them. She looked like she was ready to be sick. They couldn’t leave Roman to bleed out like this. Everything inside her was screaming for her to do something to help him. How would she live her life knowing she’d just left him? Her struggles renewed, but now there were more hands forcing her inside.
“For Christ sakes, Bridge,” Seamus said, “you’re really going to fight the people who are trying to save you for
him?
He shot your mother in the head. He deserves this.”
She froze. Her eyes looked over the shoulders of everyone else to meet Roman’s gaze, which was now glassy and dull. He looked pale and weak, nothing like the strong, confident man she was used to. Seamus had to be lying. He was only saying that to make her leave him. Bridgette was shaking her head in denial without even realizing she was doing it.
“No,” she whispered, knowing in her heart that this man for whom she’d come to feel things she’d never thought possible, was in no way responsible for the death of her mother.
“Bridgette,” Charlotte said gently, her tiny hands forcing Bridgette to look at her. “Seamus isn’t lying. Roman shot her right in front of me. It’s not a lie. And we
really
need to go, so you have to stop fighting us.”
Every muscle in her body went slack. Someone pulled her the rest of the way inside, but her eyes never left his. He lay there, alone and bleeding, all the other soldiers either dead or gone, probably securing Ludwig somewhere safe. Then the scene before her disappeared as the door to the van slid shut. Tires squealed as they took off. People were talking but Bridgette could hardly hear a thing.
Pulling her knees up, she folded herself into a corner, her eyes seeing nothing. Someone sat down beside her and placed their arm comfortingly around her shoulders, pulling her body into them. She knew it was Charlotte as soon as she began stroking her hair, singing a soft song their mother used to sing to them whenever they were sick.
Tears started to fall from her eyes, silent and warm against her cold cheeks. A loud explosion rang out behind them somewhere, just as the van took a sharp turn to the right. Bridgette shut her eyes, curling further into her sister as she mourned for the loss of something she’d barely had. She heard her sister sniffle through her song, her hands never stopping their soothing strokes. When she was done, she leaned down so only Bridgette could hear her when she whispered, “he’ll be okay.”
Bridgette wasn’t so sure about that. And more importantly, she wasn’t sure
she
was going to be okay after all this. They rode the rest of the way in silence.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Everyone had left her alone as soon as they’d arrived at the house she was currently staying in. Bridgette was given her own bedroom where she’d been hiding for the better part of two days now. She knew she should go out there and thank them for getting her back, but she just didn’t have the heart to do it.
It wasn’t that she had necessarily wanted to stay with Roman and Ludwig, but ever since they’d driven away, leaving Roman bleeding on the street, there had been a vast, empty feeling in her chest that ached constantly. All Bridgette could picture when she closed her eyes was the stark look in Roman’s as the van door shut between them. The truth about her mother hurt. She could still remember the charred remains she’d found that day, peeking out from beneath the rubble that had once been their home. She’d always just assumed her mother had gotten caught in the fire, not shot in the head first. Realistically, she should have known something bad had happened to their mother before the fire, especially considering Charlotte was taken, alive, from the house that day.
Bridgette wasn’t a fool, nor was she naïve. To know it had been Roman specifically who dealt the fatal blow? That was the part that killed her. Of course, Roman had said repeatedly that he’d done things that would make Bridgette hate him. She knew now what he’d been referring to the whole time. So did she hate him? The concern she felt for his wellbeing seemed to make it harder for her to answer that question.
Instead of confronting what she now knew, Bridgette had tried to push it to the back of her mind every time it snuck its way back to her forethoughts. She’d spend hours sitting in the bay window of the room they’d given her, staring out into the empty streets with unseeing eyes. Her mind played over every moment she’d spent with Roman, always coming back to that last moment in the van. Was he alive? That question seemed to repeat in her head like a broken record. And no matter how many times she wondered, no matter how many times she hoped and prayed that the answer was yes, there was no actual way for her to find out.
Charlotte had come by with food every few hours, and would sit with Bridgette, making idle conversation, or simply sitting with her in a comfortable silence. Neither would bring up anything that had happened. She got the feeling that in those moments, when the two of them would both stare out the window, Charlotte was wondering the same thing as her. Even if her sister denied it, Bridgette knew Charlotte was just as concerned about Roman as she was. It had been written all over her face as Charlotte had looked down at him in horror.
Each time, Bridgette had hoped Charlotte would have some sort of news to tell her, but if she did, she never said anything. So they would sit there, and eventually Charlotte would leave again, saying she’d be back soon. She’d always ask Bridgette if she wanted to come down and be with the others, but they both knew what her answer would be.
Sometimes she would think of ways to get away from Charlotte and McKay, and somehow make her way back to headquarters. But her better sense would instantly shoot down any ideas she might have. No matter what her heart urged her to do, Bridgette knew going back was out of the question. Ludwig knew who she was now. There would be no more hiding, no more pretending. If she simply showed up, dressed as Weapon X again, he was likely to have her arrested on the spot.
Even if she could pull it off, what would be the point? It wasn’t as though she could pick things up between her and Roman again like they were before. How could she be with someone who was responsible for her mother’s death? If it had been her father, she might feel differently. His betrayal left little affection in her heart for him anymore. Perhaps, before, she could have found some reason, even if it had been small, to still think fondly of her father, but not now. Not after knowing what he’d willingly done to his own children, knowing the risk.
And to make things even more ironic, Bridgette had to laugh at the reality of the fact that it had been Ludwig Tennebris who put it all together and tried to make up for it by taking care of her sister. It felt like everything Bridgette had ever believed in was now put to question. She wasn’t sure who to trust or who to hate in this world that seemed to never go the way she expected.
“Knock, knock.”
Bridgette turned as Charlotte came through the door, shutting it soundlessly behind her.
“Thought you might like some company,” she said, walking over to sit across from her.
“I think we both know I’m not good company right now,” Bridgette said, her voice hoarse from disuse.
Charlotte shrugged. “Some would say I’ve never been very good company,” she replied with a wry smile.
Bridgette gave a brief laugh. “I doubt that’s true.”
“Well, you didn’t know me when I was Weapon X,” she said, putting air quotes around her old persona.
Bridgette looked at her sister closely. “I bet Roman would have never said that,” she said, watching for her reaction. Her sister flinched a little, looking away at the rundown world outside.
“Probably not,” she agreed.
They sat in silence, something Bridgette was growing to appreciate. Finally her sister spoke again.
“Are you worried about him?”
Bridgette didn’t look at her when she responded, but she could feel Charlotte’s steady gaze. “Are you?” she asked.
Charlotte was silent for a moment before answering. “Truthfully? Yes, I am. Is that weird?”
Bridgette turned her head to face her. “Why would it be weird? He’s someone you spent a long time with.”
“I suppose,” Charlotte agreed, somewhat reluctantly. “But now that you know what he did, don’t you think it would make more sense for me to hate him? For both of us to?”
“I don’t know,” Bridgette said softly. “I feel like I should, but I can’t seem to. To answer your question, I’m not worried – I’m terrified. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”
Charlotte’s expression turned into one of understanding, a knowing look in her eyes. “You care for him?”
“Do you?”
“Do you always answer a question with a question?”
They both laughed quietly.
“I won’t think less of you, you know,” Charlotte said. “I know how easy it can be to fall in love with someone when it just feels right with them.”
“How can it feel right when that person is supposed to be your enemy?”
“They’re only what you decide they are. We’ve all done things in our lives that we might not be particularly proud of, Bridge. That doesn’t make us bad people, necessarily. I know Roman. Not the Roman Adamson most people think they know, but the real one. I think that’s why, even though I watched him kill our mother, I could never find it in myself to truly hate him. I know what he’s like, how smart and funny, and incredibly charming he can be. If anyone can understand what you’re feeling, it would be me.”
“I don’t know what I’m feeling.”
“I think you do. I saw the way the two of you looked at each other. And the fact that he knew who you were and didn’t say anything says a lot about what might have happened between you.”
“He killed our mother.”
“He saved me.”