Taste of Torment (Deep In Your Veins 3)

They had been tainted for almost two weeks now, and I had come here each and every evening to visit. I knew that I was just torturing myself by witnessing as my brother increasingly deteriorated like this. I knew this wasn’t helping me. But how could I stay away from my own twin, especially at a time like this? How could I not visit him, despite that neither of us derived any comfort from me being there?

I didn’t want him to feel alone. Being away from him at a time like this made me feel guilty, like I was abandoning him, even if that didn’t make an awful lot of sense. Right now, though, he wouldn’t even look at me. I wasn’t sure if he was pretending that I wasn’t here or if he was simply hoping that if he ignored me, I’d leave. Maybe he didn’t like that I was seeing him like this. While I understood that, it couldn’t keep me away. Not from my twin brother.

I wished I was there to give them some good news, but the truth was that neither Sam nor I had found anything that could help. I’d forced myself not to even think of giving up, and to remain hopeful. For a while it had worked. But I could feel my original optimism beginning to fizzle away, leaving me with only pain, fear, and anger – all of which I had buried so deep that Sam couldn’t pick up on them through our bond.

Hiding my pain and fear was a childhood habit that had stayed with me. My narcissistic mother had practically fed on those things, so I’d done my best to deprive her of them. I hadn’t wanted the twisted bitch to see just how much she could hurt me. As a kid, it had been my way of fighting back. And it was the ultimate form of revenge if your foe got kicks out of any pain that they could cause you. Really, it was no wonder I was pretty f**ked up.

For Sam, I had been doing my best to snap out of that habit of burying everything deep. She wasn’t my mother; she wouldn’t use my emotions against me. She wasn’t someone who I needed to protect myself from. For once in my f**ked up life, I’d allowed myself to need someone. And I did need Sam. Hell, without her, my optimism might have disappeared altogether. But I couldn’t share my deeper emotions on this subject with her, couldn’t lean on her this time. We were too at odds on what we believed was best to do in this situation, and I didn’t want to give more weight to her solution of involving Paige West by revealing that my optimism was beginning to dwindle.

Still, although I hadn’t felt able to totally confide in her, Sam had been the anchor that had enabled me to stay focused and keep from losing my shit. She probably didn’t know it, but she was the only thing that was keeping me relatively sane throughout all this chaos – or as sane as I could ever hope to be.

Hearing soft footsteps, I knew it was Antonio. I didn’t look away from Evan though. I stood there willing him to meet my eyes, willing him to see my determination to help him – as if that determination alone could encourage Evan to fight, to not give up. But no, my brother was refusing to acknowledge me. And it f**king hurt.

Reaching my side, Antonio sighed sadly at the sight behind the glass wall. “It is difficult to remain positive when confronted with the effects of The Call.”

Translation: ‘Stop coming here before you lose all hope’.

“It’s hard to stay away. I feel like I should be here for him. I want to be. I want to help him.”

“Maybe you can.”

At those words, my head whipped around to face Antonio. “What do you mean?”

“Quentin Foy – he has been found. Harvey’s idea to put a bounty on Quentin’s head offering a reward for his whereabouts was a good one; it made finding him much faster. I truly have no idea if anything he tells you could help with this but?”

“In all honesty, I’m not hopeful that he can help.” That wasn’t something I’d told Sam, though. “But I can’t leave any corner unexplored.”

Antonio gave a nod of understanding. “Then get Sam and the squad together.” He held out a small sheet of paper on which an address was scribbled. “This is where you will find Quentin Foy.” Antonio squeezed my shoulder. “Best of luck.”

I immediately teleported to the arena. Understanding that I’d needed to see Evan, Sam had agreed to begin the training session without me. She and the squad paused when I arrived, clearly intrigued by the urgency in my manner. I held up the sheet of paper. “Time to speak with Foy. He’s still in New Zealand and?”

“You’re going on an assignment?” Collins called out from the spectator seats.

It took extreme effort to stop grinding my teeth. Since arriving, Collins and Eloise had insisted on sitting in on every training session, whether it was in the arena or in the rainforest. Collins always took notes the entire time, but he was never silent. No. He always had lists of queries, he repeatedly questioned Sam’s decisions, and he even criticised her techniques.

I felt as fury whizzed through Sam each and every time – it was the same fury that filled me. But her responses were always brisk, formal, and business-like. It was true that she didn’t have much patience when it came to ass**les and could happily whip the living shit out of them, but Sam was also very controlled when she needed to be. Feeders had to be controlled or the energy would overwhelm them. I was literally in awe of how she had managed to hold back from hurting the interfering bastards, because I personally was so very close to snapping.

Whenever she sensed that my own control was slipping, Sam would immediately calm me; reminding me telepathically how important it was not to give the ass**les anything to report that could be used against her.

As Collins began descending the steps, I finally replied to his question. “Yes, we are.”

“Is that such a good idea, Jared?” An indecently dressed Eloise trailed after Collins. She said my name like it was an endearment, said it with enough familiarity to have Sam’s blood boiling as it was a constant reminder that she and I knew each other intimately – even though I could hardly remember that night. “You and Commander Parker have been seen in public. We do not want more photographs of you going around. It would be best if you both laid low for a while.”

“I’m not letting the squad do this alone,” I stated firmly. My tone left no room for negotiation.

Eloise came closer – too close. “Then perhaps, Jared, you should go without Commander Parker. The appeal was for information about her.” I was always ‘Jared’, and it was spoken in such a warm tone. By contrast, Sam was always ‘Commander Parker’, and the words were pure frost. It was designed to annoy Sam, and it did.