Depraved by Trent Evans

Chapter 17

He found her exactly where he’d asked her to meet him, inside a bombed-out building—it used to be an elementary school—in Old Vickers.

The rooftops were completely gone from the ruins, which made it an unlikely place for a clandestine meeting as it was easily surveyed by TSS aerial units.

But that, conversely, made it the perfect place to meet her, as the TSS would think it the last place to chance being seen out in the open.

The wind whistled through the broken walls, plaster swinging in the breeze, scorched stone walls crumbled, the remnants of desks still jumbled here and there in the room.

She was gazing out at the waning light of evening, the wind pressing the fabric of her Faction uniform tight to the lines of her body, her breasts jutting, the dramatic curves of her ass luscious as ever in her form-fitting trousers. Her long dark hair floated behind her upon the steady breeze.

“Do you know what I’m here for?”

She turned her head toward him, her eyes bright. Had she been crying? Her lips were swollen, reddened. She gave him a wan little smile.

“Not for the reason I hoped you’d be. Traitor.”

He grunted, leaning his rifle against the broken classroom wall, then taking a seat next to it, resting his arms across his knees.

“Come sit with me, Petra.”

“Are they… with you?”

“They? My team? Yes, they’re watching—but they can’t hear you.”

In truth, they were both about two blocks away, Lyssa finding a suitable OP on the third floor of an abandoned apartment building. She could cover any approach, and warn him of any ground or aerial units well before they arrived.

And Tom could cover her six.

“Where…?”

Petra looked outside once more, craning her head up, then to the right.

“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “We’re safe enough.”

She slowly turned then, and in the line of her shoulders, the reluctance of her movements, he could see it.

Sorrow.

“What is it?”

“Nothing… it’s nothing,” she said, dropping to her knees next to him. She placed a hand over one of his, squeezing it. “I’m… I’m glad you’re here.”

“What’s happened to you?”

He didn’t like this at all. Petra was, well, he’d hardly ever seen her rattled, uncertain.

Something was wrong.

“Petra, tell me.”

She looked to him, a haunted light flickering in her dark eyes.

“It’s Carter. He’s… he’s gotten worse. Never seen him this angry. Can’t stand to be around him, if I’m honest about it. The strain… I think it’s getting to him.”

“The strain? You mean the burden of murdering my friend, of kidnapping his daughter to do Gods-know-what to?”

She gave him a dismissive shake of her head. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re gonna tell me you really don’t know?” He smiled bitterly, but kept his gaze locked with hers. “Carter didn’t tell you?”

“What do you mean, murder? You don’t mean… Wyndham? My brother wasn’t behind that.”

“Petra, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

She rose to her feet, brow knit, color at her cheeks. “He’s not a murderer.”

“Either he’s a murderer, or you’re calling me a liar.”

She recoiled at that, as if he’d slapped her face, her thick lashes fluttering.

“I… it’s not possible. He hated Wyndham, of course, but he… wouldn’t have killed him.”

“Your brother killed my best friend. It happened.”

Petra turned away, her hand to her face.

“Look at me, goddammit!” Anson snapped.

She spun on him, her eyes wide, hurt and fright both swirling in their depths.

“What do you want from me, Anson?”

“He did it, Petra. And he’ll do worse—if I can’t find Yulia.”

“Why would he take his daughter? It doesn’t…”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” He blew out a breath, hanging his head for a moment, fatigue threatening. His stomach growled. He didn’t know when it was he’d last eaten. Many more hours than he liked to think about.

Anson scrubbed a hand across his face.

It was even worse than he’d suspected.

Either Petra was lying to him right now, or Carter really was losing it. His sister was one of his closest advisors. If he really hadn’t informed her about Yulia…then there was no telling what had come over the man.

Fuck.

The situation just became even more complicated than it already was.

“I need…I need to know where she is.” He met her eyes, and the sorrow in them was back, even deeper now.

But there was nothing for it. Not now.

He had to find Yulia.

Petra was silent for a moment, then she looked away, hugging herself, a gesture he was wholly unused to seeing in the usually criminally overconfident woman.

“Anson… don’t you ever get tired of all of this? The conflict?” She didn’t look back at him as she said it, as if she couldn’t bear to see the truth in his eyes.

“More than you’ll ever know.”

The conflict wasn’t all that weighed on him. Seeing her again…it wasn’t easy on him, either.

“Do you…ever wonder? What might have been?”

“I can’t afford to wish for something I can never have.”

Her sigh was soft, resigned. “But is it something you want?”

He was silent, not knowing how to say what he felt. Not knowing if what he felt was real, or simply confused, muddled stress doing strange things with his mind—and his emotions.

“Look at me, Petra.”

She turned her head, locking eyes with him over her shoulder. A tear had tracked down one cheek, the woman looking more beautiful at that moment than she ever had.

And in that instant, his regret threatened to strangle him as he remembered it.

The day he’d realized what could never be.

This is fucking trouble.

“Help me. I need you to help me. If not for the rebellion…then for her.”

She wheeled upon him then, her mouth suddenly hard, fire in her eyes. “Not for her! I don’t care about her, Anson. I don’t care about your stupid rebellion, either. “

He blew out a breath, gazing out of the torn, destroyed wall he’d found her standing before.

The clouds were pregnant with rain, the light washed out, a deluge threatening now. “In another place? Or another world?” He frowned, hating the surge of emotions. “Who knows what could be? But it’s a waste of time, to hope. I can’t. Not now. Maybe not ever.” He forced himself to his feet, snatching up his rifle.

“You keep saying can’t—and what you really mean is won’t.”

“I never say things I don’t mean, Petra.” He went to her, touching her shoulder. “Help me. I’ve got to find her.”

She laid her palm upon his for just a moment, then shrugged it off. “So much has been lost, Anson. I miss… the way things used to be.”

He grit his teeth, gazing bitterly out at the ruins of the city.

She turned toward him then. “You want my help? Truly? What’s in it for me if I do?”

They both knew it wasn’t as simple as a tit-for-tat, a mere transaction. They were in immense danger even having this conversation. “I want answers.”

“Give me an answer first.” The soft swell of her heavy breasts pressed against his chest as she stepped close, her movement devious, feline. “Tell me why. Why did you come to me?”

It was folly to tell her, but it was time. He hoped it would, somehow, make it easier for her to help him, this truth. “I said goodbye to my hope… when I realized you could never leave his side. Even though you could see he was becoming as twisted and evil as Kaman. You still couldn’t leave him.”

Her voice was thick. “He’s my brother. My only family still alive. I…I can’t just leave him.”

“No,” Anson murmured. “I know you can’t. Which was why I knew it was futile to hope for what was never truly possible.”

She turned away then, and for a long while, they stood there, silent, lost in their regret, in their bitterness at a future that would never be realized.

Petra said nothing, and Anson would never let her know he could hear her quiet weeping.

So much he wanted to say. So much he would take to his grave instead.

Finally, Petra sighed. “I don’t know where she is. I swear it.” She dipped her head, sniffling again, before looking back at him over her shoulder. “But… I know where the HKU might be.”

Reaching into one of the pockets of her jumpsuit, she retrieved a handheld, its screen popping to life. She swiped the screen, then pointed at it.

“There. It’s a forward operating base, completely spoofed and camouflaged.”

“Fuck me,” Anson said softly. It was on the other side of New Vickers—a long way to go.

But it was the best chance he had.

She’d just given Yulia a shot at getting out of this alive.

“It’s where I’d look first. I… I think it’s where my brother said his team reinserted him.”

“Reinserted him?”

“Yes, after they captured him.”

He laughed. “Harling… that son of a bitch!”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “It’s… if we get out of this alive, I’ll tell ya about it someday.”

His heart twisted though, as he realized the import of what she’d just done.

“You… you know how much danger this puts you in, me seeing this?”

She rolled her eyes.

“I mean it. He’ll… I don’t want to think about what he might do…”

“Please. He’s my brother. I’ve always been two steps ahead of the little shit. I’ll be fine.”

He hugged her then, knowing he shouldn’t. She hugged him back with a surprising strength. “You… thank you, Petra.”

She lingered in his arms a moment longer than she needed to, her voice a wistful murmur. “Remember this, Anson. Maybe someday, you’ll find more than that girl.”