“I don’t know,” she answered, then pressed her face against his throat, and he curled a hand around her braid. “I don’t understand this, and I haven’t had time to do any research.” The note of longing in her voice squeezed him like a vise. “I don’t even know why the Blossom Foundry took you or how you got out…”
“I can answer some of those questions,” Oz offered from the doorway. The caution in his demeanor seemed to put Dirk on edge. The captain had not been happy with Oz’s decision to infiltrate the Blossom Foundry. Too many things could have gone wrong. He could have been in danger. He’d also left Valda to come for them.
Hatch admired the bloke, but fuck all if he was getting in the middle of that clusterfuck. Valda’s weight on his thighs while she leaned into him, allowing him to cuddle her close, satisfied him on every primitive level.
Well, not every single one, but he supposed asking the tossers to get out so he could fuck them both into bliss would be rude.
Fine, he’d give it thirty minutes. He could do that much for his brothers.
Dirk folded his arms and faced Oz. It wasn’t lost on Hatch that he angled himself to be slightly in front of Valda. With a sigh, Oz ran a hand over his stubbled head. Exhaustion lay waste to all of them, but Oz more so than them. Had the doc had even a single fucking nap in this nightmare? There was a sallow cast to his dark skin and a weariness in his eyes as he tracked his gaze to Valda. Andreas trailed him into the room.
Of the five of them, he looked the best, though the relief etched into his expression held a candor rarely seen. That, and he was smiling.
Admittedly, Hatch wasn’t sure who was more surprised when Dirk greeted him with a swift hug and a pat to his shoulder before he resumed his protective stance. As happy as he was to see the priest, Hatch settled for lifting his chin rather than dislodge Valda from where she cuddled against him.
“Good to see you, brother,” Andreas told him, his own gaze softening as it dipped to the woman they all loved.
“And you.” Seriously, it was. Then it hit him. For the first time in years, they were all together and not in the memoriam. Unlike the last time they’d been together like this, there was an ease, even with the crackling tension radiating from Dirk as he waited for answers. Andreas leaned back against the wall, more comfortable than Hatch had ever seen him. Oz, usually their calm center, gave an agitated sigh.
That piece had quite fallen back where it belonged, and yet, none of them were who they’d been when Valda collapsed. Fundamental shifts had occurred. Not only in their relationships with each other, but in themselves. Not examining that too closely for the moment, Hatch began to work the bind on Valda’s braid loose as he pressed his lips to her temple.
He swore he could almost feel her smile, taste her sigh. The longing so resonated with his own, it blurred his vision with a faint film of tears. He blinked them away as Oz let out another huff of breath. Then, hands on his hips, he lifted his chin and focused on Valda.
Not Andreas.
Not Dirk.
Not Hatch.
Her.
This story was for her.
Fair enough. All of their stories were for her.
“The Blossom Foundry wants you to make the memoriam work for them,” Oz said in as much of an impersonal tone as he seemed to manage. “The equipment, the research, everything they’ve done, they’ve never been able to make it work, until the machine Hatch stole began to upload diagnostics and reports of a stable matrix and construct.”
What. The. Fuck.
Hatch glared at him. “When the fuck was it uploading diagnostics?”
“I don’t know, they didn’t read me in that deep. They knew we were there, and they knew the constructs were supporting our interactions. They also knew she was the key.” He grimaced.
“Spit it out.” Dirk ground out the words.
“I think the only way it was connecting was through satellite bursts. They don’t have all the data. What data they have, they can’t replicate. They’ve tried.”
Andreas frowned, but then the harsh, troubled notes in Oz’s voice warned of something terrible.
“They tried with other people?” Valda asked softly.
Oz gave her a single nod.
“What happened to them?”
“Their human trials were not successful. The best outcomes just died.”
The best outcomes?
“What about the worst?” Dirk asked. Discipline seemed to keep his tone rigid and his focus locked.
Not looking away from Valda, Oz said, “They’re in comas. Most of them are…” Another grimace twisted his features, and he shook his head. “Most of them are one step above brain dead. The activity is there, but it’s bare minimal. Higher functions are gone.”
A shudder raced through Valda, and the delicate motion had Hatch gathering her closer. She’d been in a coma when he’d stolen the equipment, hijacking what seemed like a last-ditch hope to reach her. But her higher functions…they’d been present. The scans, everything had said she was there, but deep in a delta wave state.
Fuck, he didn’t want to think about that.
“So they want Valda to make their toy work,” Andreas mused aloud in probably the single most unfriendly tone he’d ever used. “Well, fuck them. We’re not putting her back in.”
“Agreed,” Oz said without an ounce of hesitation.
It wasn’t even a question for them. Any of them.
“I want to know why,” Valda said softly, and Hatch bit back a groan. Andreas flicked a look at her with narrowed eyes, and Oz frowned. But it was Dirk who pivoted to scowl down at her with a fierce expression he never used where she was concerned. His current ragged state only seemed to give him an even more dangerous edge than he usually possessed.
And as much shit as Hatch liked to give the bloke, no way would he ever pick a straight up fight with him. Blindsiding him was the only way to go.
“Some questions don’t need answers.” Nothing about Dirk’s posture said he wanted to argue this, but he would. And Hatch couldn’t fault him for it.
“Some answers are worse than the questions,” Hatch offered, and it pulled her attention to him. “You’re alive. We’re alive. We can get the fuck out of here, go somewhere no one can find us, and celebrate having you back.”
Because that was the exact plan in his mind. They had her, like fuck he would risk her. Dirk gave him a firm nod, but Oz and Andreas wore equally troubled expressions.
Fuck. “What?” he demanded, flicking a look from one man to the other. Of all of them, Andreas would be the last he thought would be willing to court anything other than getting Valda far, far away. He’d loathed every moment of her time in the memoriam. Loathed having to get to know only the barest facets of her over and over again.
But they didn’t have to do that anymore. They had her and she was right there in Hatch’s arms, and he gave her another squeeze. He needed the constant reminder. Hell, he even welcomed the aches and pains riddling his body, because it was another sign he was alive and this was real.
For a split second, uneasiness flooded him. This was real, right? He wasn’t making this up as they continued to slam blows against his head? They were out of the memoriam. That much was correct. It had to be.
The soft pressure on his cheek turned his face so his eyes locked on Valda. “I’m real,” she promised. “So are you. So are they. This isn’t the memoriam.”