Metamorphosis (Breaking Free, book 2)

Chapter 21-Rosie

My mom had a co-worker named Greg when I was little. He would play with my hair when we were alone and send me -gapped tooth smiles when my mom's back was turned. I remember distinctly hating that man, and this guy could be a mirror image of him. I decided that all Greg's sucked, so this man was now a Greg.

Greg looked me up and down, narrowing his eyes. "What do you want, girl?" His lips curled into a snarl, and spit flew from the side of his mouth, landing on my cheek. I blinked, fixing Greg with a dark glare and wiping off the spit. Disgust and fury rolled in my stomach, and I clenched my fists and turned away from him. One more word out of his filthy, fat lips, and I would sock this man in the jaw so hard he would see stars till he was sixty. Not that that would be particularly long, he looked like he was pushing a smoker's fifty at the very least.

Ignoring him, I faced the long-haired man. He blinked and fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeves. Pushing at my cheek with my tongue, I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Where's Gideon." My voice sounded cold and steady, and I reveled in how dangerous I seemed. The power was mine, and I felt it swell in my chest. Holding back a devilish grin, I looked this man up and down. His blue jeans had holes at the knees, and his button-down plaid outfit made him look like a hybrid between a biker and a ranch hand from a small, southern town. He shifted to his other foot, running a hand through his hair.

"Why d'you wanna know, girly?" Greg hissed, clutching my shoulder in his meaty hands. In one move, I gripped his middle finger and ripped it as far back as it would go. I heard it crack, and Greg screamed, dropping to the floor. I shivered. Studying his body for a second, I relished in his cries, curled into a ball on the floor. Nobody touched me without my permission—especially creepy old men like him. I'd had my fair share of them.

I glanced back up at the man in front of me, giving Greg a swift kick in the gut. His eyes were wide, and his face was ghostly pale. I felt a sick satisfaction knowing I'd scared him.

"I won't ask again." The man took a step back. I took a step forward.

"I-I don't know," He stuttered, refusing to meet my eyes. I took another step forward and wiggled my fingers in front of his face. He whimpered, backing into the wall. "I-I swear I don't know. He disappeared last night and never came back—his room's untouched and everything. " Dread settled in my stomach. I swallowed, then tilted my head, searching his face for any signs that he was lying.

His eyebrows were pinched together, and his shoulders were tense and drawn back. The man looked like he was about to wet himself. I could see Bastien gawking at me out of the corner of my eye, and I smirked. It felt good to be the one in power for once.

I could see the red, bearded faces of the men I'd served in that wretched place. They had power over me through food and water they could take and give whenever they wanted and physical force when I was too weak to fight back. They could make me do anything, and they did. Night after night, I went through hell because they were too drunk on power and lust and beer, to think about anything but their needs and wants, and not the life and innocence of the young girl they ruined. I wasn't that girl anymore. She was dead. But that didn't make me a monster, that was a choice each person has to make for themselves, and I'd had enough monsters.

This man was stupid and ugly and cruel, but he hadn't done anything to me. I had the power, just like my captors did. But I wasn't like them. I would never be like them.

"Alright, I believe you," I said, turning away from him and walking across the cafeteria, hearing him drop to the floor and break down into broken sobs. I would have to get some other way to find Gideon. And when I got him back, the first thing I would say was to get some better friends. These ones sucked.

I walked across the cafeteria with every single angel staring at me with pale faces and wide eyes. Bastien raised an eyebrow at me, and I simply shrugged, settling into my seat and taking a bite of my pancake with a satisfied grin.

"Was that really necessary?" Bastien asked, leaning onto his elbows. I thought I could see the shadow of a smile on his lips. I tapped my chin, pretending to actually think about it. By now, Greg's screams had faded to dull whimpers. His crooked nosed friend was helping him out of the cafeteria, glancing over his shoulder at me every couple of steps. I huffed out a laugh when I saw the little wet spot on his pants.

"Yeah," I replied, smiling. So he was talking to me now? Ordinarily, I would've continued to ignore him for another week or so. Still, there were more important things I had to do now. And as my best friend, even if we were in a kind of awkward place in our relationship, I needed him to come along. If only because it was better with him around. It didn't hurt that he knew more about this place and its strange people than I did.

"So," I leaned on my elbows and grinned. " Do you know if anyone keeps a record of who comes and goes?" Gideon chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"Yeah, why?" He narrowed his eyes at me, and I smirked.

"Where is it?" I ignored his question, and he rolled his eyes, cracking his knuckles with a grimace.

"Rosie..." He groaned. "It's not for anybody but The Archangels to see. They guard it day and night. Nobody else has laid eyes on it and lived to tell the tale." I didn't like the sound of that, and I certainly didn't like our odds, but I was desperate enough, and I was crazy enough to want to try anyway.

"What do you say?" I tapped my nails against the table, fighting the urge to pace. He was quiet for a long time, pushing the syrup on his plate around with his knife. His eyebrows were drawn together, and I wiggled my nose, trying to stay still. I wasn't sure what I would do if he didn't come with me. We hadn't met all that long ago, but I'd begun to rely on him more than I would like to admit. He was my rock. Not that I needed one or anything, but it was nice to have him.

Bastien sighed, letting his fork fall to his plate with a clang and shook his head. When he looked up at me, he looked ten years older, dark lines underneath his eyes and wrinkles in-between his brows aging him beyond his 18 years ( Was he really 18? The infamous cat calendar might have something different to say).

"You're going to do it, regardless if I join." I nodded slowly, studying his face for any reaction that could tell me where this conversation would go. Bastien pinched his nose and looked me in the eye with an intense stare.

"Fine." I squeaked in a very dignified, macho way, for sure. I didn't sound like a chihuahua who got into their owner's stash of 'special brownies.' No, not at all. I didn't squeak like that, because I was a strong, independent woman, and strong, independent women don't sound like high, little dogs. "But when I say it's too dangerous, you'll listen, and we'll stop, right?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at me. I squirmed and nodded, refusing to look at him. I was a crap liar, and he knew it.

"I want to hear you say the words, Rosie." I pursed my lips, trying not to groan.

"We'll stop when you say so." I crossed my fingers behind my back and looked at a stray eyelash on his freckled cheek. Bastien nodded, his lips curling into a satisfied smile, and he leaned back, picked up his sticky fork, and licked it clean. I let out a breath.

Smacking his lips, he said, "Good. I'll stop in your room tonight, and we'll go from there." I nodded, holding back a grin. I tapped a rhythm I didn't recognize, on the table, and shoved a mound of pancakes down my throat. It was going to be dangerous, very dangerous. And we would most likely get in trouble or hurt ourselves. I knew whatever happened to Gideon had to be sinister and way over my head. Still, I couldn't help the anticipation rising in my chest.

I was actively heading into the belly of the beast, and a grin split my face. I could hardly wait.