Breaking Through (4 page)

“Me?”

Kray points at me again. “You, princess.”

“What about me?” I ask, the endless possibilities drifting through my mind. Does he find me attractive? Or…

The telepath laughs. “Not like that. Sorry.”

“OMG! Shut up, and get out of my head.”

“All right, all right.” Kray pulls another Twizzler from his package and rips off the end with his teeth. “You baffle him. He’s read your file—”

“I figured.”

“—and it’s not adding up.”

“What does that mean?”

Kray shrugs. “No clue. I only get what he’s thinking—”

“Right then. Yeah. Um, so…”

“So,” Kray continues, “he’s trying to dig up dirt on Nathan.”

“My brother? Why?”

Kray leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Because your brother was your brother, and he was also Navy. Barton thinks that whatever happened to Nate”—Kray’s eyes lock onto me—“is why you can’t control your ability.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Does he know anything? About Nathan, I mean?”

“No. He doesn’t have that high of a security clearance.”

I rest my chin on the back of the chair. “So he thinks if he can find out about Nate, he can figure out how to fix me? Make me more valuable to this mission?”

“Something like that,” Kray confirms. “You’re already valuable, but he’s been warned that you’re a risk.”

“By Cara.” I don’t ask, because it’s obvious.

“Probably. And your file. It’s not rocket science. I’m going to be honest with you. Every time you get angry, or upset, or have one of your nightmares, water flies. And out here, on the ocean, that’s not good news. He’s worried that someone could get hurt.”

Yep. The question plaguing me loops around for another roll.

“Then why bring me if I’m such a liability?”

Kray pauses and averts his gaze. “Because he was ordered to.”

I walk through
the aisles of weaponry. Many of the pieces I’ve designed myself. That’s why they recruited me—not only because I’m a perfect shot. My knowledge of weapons and chemical warfare is part of the reason I skyrocketed through the ranks so quickly.

I pluck a Glock from the wall. Examine the contours and slight modifications I made. There’s no kickback now, and if your fingerprints don’t match what’s programmed in the gun’s microchip, it won’t engage.

After picking out a couple of knives, I exit the storage closet and head back to the weapons training center, where we’ll be in the morning. It’s soundproof, with bulletproof walls. I also set up a line of dummies on the far end.

I lay the weapons on a table, then make sure all the magazines are filled. I don’t need any mistakes tomorrow. Tonight, I have my own training to do. It’s necessary with a telepath around. I can’t deny what Kray said in front of the recruits today, but I won’t allow him inside my head either. Spouting off my fears to the group isn’t good.

With the commanders under me, taking charge is easy. I accept no bullshit. No insubordination. I’m their captain. I’m military, plain and simple. But with the Brighton recruits, it’s complicated. They’re not actually military personnel, though they’re not civilians either. The government made sure of that a long time ago, and as much as I’m their superior, I’m also one of them.

I haven’t heard back concerning Nautia’s brother, but I’m confident the information is crucial to stabilizing Nautia’s emotional core back to what it was before Nate’s death.

After making sure everything in the weapons training center is in order, I place a call to Cara. By tomorrow, most lines of communication will be cut off, so this is my last opportunity to gather material not guarded by the government. And Nate’s student file might give me some of the missing pieces in helping Nautia to regain the control she needs.

“Hello?” Cara answers, and for midnight her time, she sounds wide awake.

“Cara. Riley Barton calling.”

She hesitates for a moment, and when she finally speaks, there’s an edge to her voice. “What can I do for you, Captain?”

“I’m interested in Nate Olson. What can you tell me about him?”

“Nate? Why do you want to know about Nate?”

“Because he’s Nautia’s brother. According to her file, her abilities were at the top of their game before he died. Then they took a nosedive. I think if I can unlock information about him, I might be able to unlock her.”

Cara breathes into the phone like she’s suddenly tired. “Nate was an exemplary student. Worked well with others. One of the brightest aquators this training facility has ever seen. He did, from time to time, have a certain disregard for the rules, but no one ever got hurt.”

“Did he get along with Nautia?” I ask.

“They were very close. Twins.”

Twins?

I continue even though she didn’t answer my question. “His name doesn’t appear in her files until recently. Not even on her enrollment forms.”

“It’s her file, not his,” she explains. “Siblings are a rarity here, twins even rarer. So when we have siblings, we do our best to treat them as individuals. More often than not, they get split up when recruited anyway. They have to learn to not depend on each other.”

“But they did depend on each other, didn’t they?”

“Like I said, they were close. And when Nathan was declared dead, Nautia lost it. She hasn’t been the same since.”

“Was Nautia offered grief counseling?”

“She had me. We spoke about it,” Cara says, dismissing the question.

“Did she open up?”

“Captain,” she interrupts, “I am not at liberty to discuss our sessions. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Conversation over.

“No, I think that’s all. Thank you for your time,” I say.

“Good luck, Captain.”

Click.

It’s good to see that everyone found the dining hall. There are eleven of us total. Navy soldiers sit at one table, Brighton students at the other. I trust the five Navy commanders with my life. They are the best of the best and require little direction from me, which gives me more time to work with the special officers. They’ll be my focus during these three months.

I grab my tray and sit with the commanders. They nod as I slide in on the end, then continue with their conversation. Basketball is the topic, and normally I’d jump right in, but voices from the other table distract me.

“What do we do if there’s a hurricane?” Britta asks, her eyes darting to each person at the table. “Or one of those water tornados?”

“Waterspouts?” Nautia offers.

“In these northern waters, all of that is highly unlikely,” Gibson reassures her.

“All we have to worry about are icebergs,” Haskal shoots in with a chuckle.

Britta’s eyes go wide. “We’re all going to die out here, aren’t we? Get eaten by sharks. Get hypothermia. You know what happened to the
Titanic
, right?”

“I’m sure there’re enough lifeboats on board the
Triton
,” Gibson says. “I’m also sure we won’t need them.”

“I haven’t seen any,” Haskal mutters.

Gibson glares at him, and Britta sinks lower in her seat, her food barely touched.

“Stop being an asshat, Haskal,” Gibson says. Levitators aren’t in short supply, but I chose Gibson because of what he’s doing right now—being a leader.

Haskal huffs and turns from Britta to pin his attention on Nautia. He says something quietly to her, smirking as he says it. He’s directly in front of her, and Kray sits to her left. She takes a bite of food, avoiding Haskal’s gaze like she’s ignoring him, but her posture stiffens as he speaks.

“Haskal, shut the hell up,” Kray says.

“I wasn’t talking to you, douchebag,” Haskal replies.

“It’s not what you’re
saying
,” Kray retorts, grimacing. “I’ll never be able to burn that image from my mind.”

Haskal laughs. “Teach you to stay out of my head.”

“Trust me, I wish I could,” Kray says before striking up a conversation with Gibson.

Nautia cringes. “Whatever you were thinking is never going to happen, Haskal.”

“Never say never,” Haskal says. “Besides, I want to know if the rumors are true.”

“What rumors?”

“You know. That when you enjoy yourself and let it
alllllll
out, you can actually form storm clouds.” He lowers his voice. “Make it rain.”

Beside her, Kray’s jaw drops open, and I can only assume it’s because he has read Nautia’s thoughts. Nautia, however, remains calm. Whatever Haskal is alluding to doesn’t seem to bother her. She shows no expression, and I have to admit, I’m impressed.

Until the ship begins to rock.

Dinner trays slowly scoot across the tables, then topple onto the floor. Britta screams and clings to Gibson, terrified.

“Where are those lifeboats?” she breathes out.

Kray whispers something to Nautia, but she’s locked onto Haskal in a death stare. Haskal grins.

“So. It
is
true,” he says. “I’d love to get me a piece of that.”

I signal for my crew to go topside and man the controls just in case. They rush out, but I don’t follow. They know what to do, and if I can get Nautia stabilized, the problem will likely fix itself.

“Nautia,” Kray says, his voice low and soothing. “Don’t do this. Control it.”

The ship lurches to the left. Chairs slide across the floor. Whatever is happening is escalating quickly.

Britta breaks into hysterics. “Nautia! Stop it! You’re going to kill us!” she screams.

“Not helping,” Kray growls at her. He reaches out to touch Nautia’s arm, but she jerks away from him. “Nautia. Think: Calm down. Relax. Slow your heart rate.”

Haskal is still grinning. He’s baiting her, like he wants to see how far she’ll go before she snaps. Problem is, I don’t know what will happen if Nautia goes ballistic, and judging by how the ship is rocking in the middle of the Pacific, tonight isn’t the night I want to find out.

“Turn up the heat, baby, and let me take you back to my bunk. I’ll show you shit you’ve never seen before,” Haskal pushes.

The ship rocks hard to the right, sending Gibson and Britta stumbling off their feet and into the counter. Britta’s head smacks against the edge, and blood pours down her face.

“Shut the fuck up, Haskal!” Kray yells.

This can’t go on. People are getting hurt.

“Gibson!” I shout. “Get Britta to the infirmary.”

“She’s unconscious, sir,” he hollers back.

“Looks like you’ll have a quiet trip. Now move!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gibson pick Britta up and make for the exit. But they’re not my biggest concern. I have to take out the source, though it might not be enough to stop Nautia.

“Focus, Nautia. You have to focus!” Kray yells.

“Yeah, Nautia. Focus right here, baby.” Haskal grabs his crotch, chuckling. The asshole is so caught up in getting Nautia to lose control, he doesn’t notice I’m right here.

The ship lurches again, and I use the unsteadiness to drop to the floor. Somehow, the instability doesn’t faze Nautia, but both Kray and Haskal have tight grips on the bolted-down table. In a crouch, I throw out my leg and sweep it in a circle. I catch Haskal’s ankles, knocking his legs out from under him. The cocky SOB lets go of the table and lands hard on his back, his head smacking against the floor. I pull the knife from under my pant leg and nail it through the shoulder of his shirt, right beside his neck. The edge barely misses flesh.

“Don’t move,” I say, knowing he couldn’t if he tried. The blade is one of my designs and won’t budge if he tries to pull it out. Its handle only answers to me.

Haskal’s eyelids squeeze closed as if he’s trying to shake off the fuzz probably clouding his vision. The ship dips hard to the left, and I grab ahold of a table leg to avoid sliding across the floor.

“Nautia,” Kray says again. “Haskal’s not worth it, Nautia.”

When the ship steadies, I jump to my feet. Breathing heavily, Nautia stares straight ahead, and I swear her irises ripple like the surface of the ocean. Kray’s not touching her, but his gaze remains focused on her face.

“What’s she thinking?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “When she gets like this, all I read is a giant wall of water. No thoughts, no anything,” he explains.

“Like a wave?”

“Like a freaking tsunami.”

“How do we get it to end?”

“We
don’t
. It’s all on her.” Kray focuses on Nautia again. “Control it.”

Nautia’s hands tremble at her sides. Her lips part, and her chest rises and falls in quick, sporadic motions.

“That’s it,” Kray says, taking a step toward her. “Relax.”

The waves crashing in Nautia’s eyes slowly die out until only quiet, blue-green irises remain, settling on me. As soon as they do, the ship stops rocking. The waters outside have calmed.

Nautia blinks. Her fingers curl into her palms, then unclench. “I’m sorry.”

“You have a lot of power, Nautia,” I say. “If you harness it, you have the potential to save a lot of lives. It could keep military ships—heck, islands—from being destroyed by Yun Ji-jin.”

She nods, though I doubt she understands. She doesn’t know what she’s capable of.

“But,” I continue, “if left uncontrolled, you’re a danger to everyone in here.” I move closer to her and point out the window. “And everyone out there.”