The Decaying Empire (The Vanishing Girl Series Book 2) (2 page)

CHAPTER 2

O
ne moment Ember had been there, and the next, she was gone. Caden’s arms fell into his lap now that there was nothing to hold on to.

He stared at them, unbelieving. For mere minutes all his desperate wishes over the past months had come true.
I held her in my arms.
And now she was gone.

Twice. Twice this had happened, and Caden wasn’t sure which of the two memories was worse. Before, he knew—or thought he knew—she was dead, but now
. . .
now the uncertainty was shredding him from the inside out.

The longer he sat there, gazing at his empty arms, the more hope bloomed. And dammit, he didn’t want to hope. Not after all this time. All these horrible months that had crawled by.

Yet
. . .
the idea had taken root, and he couldn’t shake it. She’d been real. The angel-wing tattoo, the splicing scars, her long hair, her confusion. She hadn’t looked dead; she’d looked
. . .
hospitalized.

He rubbed a hand over his mouth, ignoring the spill of tears that slipped silently down his cheeks.
She wasn’t dead.

Like an idiot, he hadn’t even asked where she’d come from. Hadn’t even fucking thought to. Not when he was drunk on her presence, on the realness of her.

Now she was gone. Slipped away
. . .
again. He’d be damned if he lost her twice.

I blinked and glanced around. People clad in scrubs peered down at me. Beyond them the sickly glow of fluorescent light shone down. The smell of antiseptic and sickness tickled my nose.

Hospital. I was in a hospital.

“What’s going on?” I asked. I pushed myself up onto my forearms.

Inhale.

“You were recently taken out of a coma. Your body is adjusting to—”

Exhale.

And I was gone.

I stared at a vaguely familiar door. I teleported while awake. That
. . .
shouldn’t have happened.

Come to think of it, hadn’t I been awake—or waking up—just before I’d visited Caden?

I dragged a hand down my face. I’d been gone for ten months apparently—a span of time I still didn’t remember anything about—and this body and mind I’d come back to felt
wrong
.

I glanced around me at the plain hallway. The dress I wore swished with the movement.

Dress?

I looked down. Peacock-blue fabric sheathed my body. I fingered the material. I knew this dress. I’d worn it on a mission
. . .
my
final
mission.

Blood everywhere. Couldn’t breathe.

I’d done something, learned something about the Project I was a part of. I’d wanted to escape. I’d gotten caught.

My chest tightened with the knowledge. I’d been worried the government would make me permanently disappear. They had. During that last mission my cover had been blown.

Hands around my neck. Dragged by my hair. I looked up and saw Desiree watching me.

Desiree Payne.

She’d been involved that night.

My face hardened as I returned to the present. I knew this place, this door. My enemy lay on the other side.

I grabbed the handle.

I should’ve died, thanks to her. Now I was back, my body scarred, my ability broken, my memory hazy. But I recalled enough to know the sweet taste of vengeance.

Today vengeance would be mine.

Caden stalked down the corridor toward Dane’s office. He rubbed his chest.

Ember Pierce was alive.

Alive
.

He wouldn’t have to live like this anymore. The relentless workouts he put himself through, his increasingly brutal extractions, the risky missions he’d taken on—all those things he’d done to feel something other than the dull ache inside him.

Now that could all change; it
had
to change. Because she wasn’t dead.

White-hot anger ran through his veins. Why had no one told him? Where had she been all this time?

Caden tried to open the door to the office.

Locked.

He pounded on it. “Dane!” he shouted. “I know you’re in there!”

He could hear murmuring on the other side of the door.

“Dane! Goddammit, let me in!” Caden yelled.

More murmuring. Caden was backing up—ready to ram himself into the door and break the damn thing down—when the door opened.

Dane stood on the other side, cell phone pressed against his chest. “I’m in the middle—”

“She’s
alive
? And you let me believe she was dead?” Caden shoved his hands through his hair, mostly so that he wouldn’t come to blows with Dane Richards, the director of the Prometheus Project. All those months of grieving, when he’d lost hope, the fucker in front of him must’ve known that entire time that she lived, and he hadn’t once mentioned it.

“I see,” Dane said, giving Caden a once-over. He brought his phone to his ear. “Steven, I’ll call you back later.”

Caden pushed his way in. “Where is she?” He prowled the room, as if he’d find her there.

Dane took his time slipping his phone back in his pocket. “You’ve seen Ember.”

Caden turned, getting into Dane’s personal space. He was taller and stronger than this man, and right now he used that to his advantage. “Where. Is. She?”

“Son.” Dane put a hand on Caden’s shoulder. In the past Caden would’ve stepped in line at that tone, that touch.

But not today. Not when his skin still remembered the feel of Ember’s body.

Caden leaned in. “Don’t ‘son’ me, Dane. You don’t know how close I am to losing it.”

Dane studied his expression. Finally he relented. “All you need to know is that she’s alive and she’s coming back to the facility—once her condition has stabilized, that is.”

Condition? Stabilized? Caden searched Dane’s eyes. Eyes that, he’d begun to suspect, held many dangerous secrets.

“Is this a joke?” he asked. “What the hell happened to her? Where has she been, and why is this the first time she’s teleported to me?”

It wasn’t as though Caden hadn’t hoped Ember had survived. That had been what had kept him going for several months. The thing was, teleporters
teleported
. Had she been alive, she should’ve visited him once she’d recovered—unless, of course, she’d forgotten him completely. Clearly, she hadn’t; she’d said his name. She’d looked into his eyes. There was recognition there. Hell, there was blinding love there.

Dane’s phone rang, and he answered the call. “Dane.”

Before the caller had a chance to speak, Caden ripped the phone from Dane’s grip and tossed it aside. “Answer my damn questions.”

Dane’s eyes flashed. “Son, you are dangerously close to using up my patience. I am your superior, something you seem to have forgotten. Now, step into fucking line or I will suspend you.”

“No you won’t,” Caden challenged. “Not when I’m your best extractor.” All those months of nearly constant training had shaped him into the Project’s most effective operative.

Dane drilled him with a hard look. “I don’t care what you are. You follow orders. Period. Now, get the hell out of my office.”

Caden squared his shoulders and loomed over the older man. “No.”

Dane’s brow crinkled. “The fuck did you just say?”

“No.”

It wasn’t a word Richards heard often, especially not from Caden. But Caden couldn’t bother with stepping in line when his entire world had just been upended.

Unsettling details about Ember seeped to the forefront of his mind. Her sickly skin and hollow cheeks, her too-long hair.

What had happened to her?

Dane took a step closer so that their chests brushed. “After all I’ve—”

“Richards!” someone shouted from down the hall. Their footsteps slapped against the linoleum as they ran toward the office.

Dane broke eye contact to address the shouting teleporter. Bryce.

“There’s a fight in one of the rooms,” Bryce said.

Dane scrutinized the teleporter. “Is it really bad enough to get me involved?” When he mediated these sorts of skirmishes, someone always paid the piper big time.

“That’s the thing,” Bryce said. “I caught sight of a girl entering Desiree’s room just before the fight broke out.” His eyes flicked to Caden; they looked apologetic. “Sir, I could’ve sworn she was Caden’s chick.”

I let the door swing open, cold, controlled anger coursing through me. On the other side of the room, Desiree typed away at her computer.

She looked up, distracted, then did a double take when she realized who stood in her doorway.

I could actually see the blood drain from her face. She sprung to her feet, her chair tipping in the process.

“Miss me?” I asked.

“Y-you’re supposed to be—”

“Dead? I know.” I stepped inside the room and kicked the door shut behind me. “Imagine my own surprise when I woke up.”

I could see the whites of her eyes as they moved over me.

I sauntered into the room. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” I pinched the fabric of my dress. “In fact, this is the dress I should’ve died in, right?”

Her gaze flew to my face. “Stay away from me.” She edged along her desk.

I flashed her a smile that could only set her further on edge. Adrenaline surged through me. I was officially getting off on her fear. “You almost got rid of me,” I said, closing the distance between us.

“Get the hell away from me.” Her hand shot out to hit me. I caught it and twisted sharply.

I heard a sickening pop, and then she screamed. I let go of her long enough to slam my fist into her face.

Already I could hear the footfalls drawing closer, so I crossed the room and locked the door.

When I turned around, Desiree had a knife in her good hand. “Stay the fuck away from me, Ember,” she warned, assuming a fighting stance. Her hurt wrist hung limply at her side.

“Or else what?” I taunted, stalking back over to her.

She shifted her weight. “Or else I’ll finish what I started.”

“I’m quaking.” The words were barely out of my mouth when I struck her, slamming the palm of my hand into her nose. She let out another cry and slashed at me.

The knife cut through the skin of my arm. I glanced at it. Probably too shallow to splice but deep enough to piss me off.