Stephanie Tyler - Unbreakable

“I already did. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t have copies. Everyone uses facial-recognition software these days,” Gunner said.

“But if we disguise Grace’s face, put some fake cheekbones and shit, it’ll throw the software off,” Jem said. “She’s our best shot.”

“She’ll have to change the way she walks. The best software does more than faces,” Gunner said.

“I can change anything if it means getting rid of this guy from our lives,” Grace promised.

“Or I could help.”

* * *

Jem turned at the sound of Drea’s voice. She’d remained in the doorway of the kitchen but now moved forward and Jem willed her not to say anything more.

Which obviously didn’t work when she said, “The asshole who hurt Avery doesn’t know me. I could do it.”

“No way,” Jem said before Avery could open her mouth.

“Why not?” Dare asked, arms crossed.

“She’s not trained, for one,” Jem pointed out.

“I can shoot. I can use a knife. Well, a scalpel. Same thing really,” Drea said. “And I know how to fight.”

“Sweetheart, this fight would be like nothing you could’ve ever imagined,” Jem promised her.

“It’s one meeting,” Grace pointed out. “She’d pass his scrutiny in a second.”

Key nodded and Jem walked toward Drea, hand on her biceps, and tried to steer her out of the room. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Offering to help.”

“I already told you, you don’t owe us.”

“I heard you, Jem. But what if I want to help you?”

“Too dangerous.”

“You need me to get to him. I’m your best option. He’s suspicious already—you said so yourself.”

“We’ll just go with our original plan of making his life a living hell,” Jem said.

Avery shook her head. “It’s going to take too long, Jem.”

“Dammit.” He was having more of a problem with the women in his life being in the line of fire than he’d thought. He’d always been equal opportunity, felt that if women could do the job, they could have it. And he knew Avery could. But that didn’t stop him from freaking at the thought of her getting hurt again. Same went for Grace, and now for Drea.

“This is for Avery. And Grace. And for me,” Drea told the group, but really, she was speaking to him. All he could do was nod his acceptance, even though he wasn’t accepting it at all.

Goddamn, it had been a long day. All the sitting around and talking rather than getting out there for some action was making the men act like caged lions. Pretty soon, they were going to start wrestling in the middle of the living room to blow off steam.

It was close to three in the morning after Jem had finished doing some research with Key, left his brother still working to relieve Dare and check on Drea.

She was in bed, but reading. Looking wide awake and fucking adorable in his T-shirt and a pair of sweats that were broken in just right.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked.

“Lately, it’s the last thing on my mind.” She accepted the mug of hot chocolate he handed her and tucked herself under the covers. She’d left room for him in the bed and oh yeah, he liked that.

Too much. It was fucking with his game. “Look, I appreciate what you did back there—”

“No, you’re pissed about it.”

Her honesty disarmed him. She was such a straight shooter. “Yeah, I am. Worried more than pissed but . . . dammit, Drea, you’ve got to stop putting yourself directly in trouble’s way when I’m trying to get you out of it.”

“I guess I’m good at finding trouble.” She let her gaze fall on him meaningfully.

“Aw, come on, that was too easy.”

“You walked into it,” she pointed out. “Can you tell me a little more about this Landon guy you’re all discussing? What he does for a living?”

“He’s a smuggler. He helps criminals leave the country, but he also stops human traffickers. Lots of shades of gray,” Jem explained. “We’d have no problem with him if he didn’t keep trying to kill us.”

“He’s the one who hurt Avery?”

“Yes. Now can you understand why I don’t want you anywhere near him?”

She nodded. “But Grace can’t do it. And you don’t have anyone else.”

“We’ll find another way. There’s always another way.” Only this time, there really wasn’t, and Drea knew that as much as he did. As much as they all did.

* * *

Avery dreaded reading Adele’s missing journals, but once she’d forced herself to start, she was angry she hadn’t done so earlier.

It’s the worst thing that could ever happen to a woman, and they know that. It’s why it’s their best weapon. But after months of healing physically, I’m going to accept that I’ll never be the same. That’s all right. I’m still strong. I’m just different. And to change is to live. To survive.

She was a survivor.

“It’s a shame she never had kids,” she’d told Grace after she’d finished the first journal. “She would’ve been the best mom.”

“She was,” Grace said, hugging her arms around herself.

It was then Avery remembered how much they’d all lost. If they hadn’t been broken by now, she had to assume they never would. “I forgot how long you spent with her.”

“I didn’t read these journals until she’d left. But then I understood why she got me—didn’t yell at me about being promiscuous. She understood it was my way of taking back my power,” Grace said.

The planning was happening around her. Gunner briefed her at night, and sometimes she fell asleep while he was talking. That was all right—it was as if what he said was solidifying in her brain, adding fuel to the fire. And every day, the need for strict vengeance wore a little thinner. The need for justice grew stronger. It was a much better balance.

After a month, they moved locations. A different state, a better safe house that Jem and Key vetted for a week before they allowed the others to move here.

It was all temporary, Avery knew. Her ultimate goal was to get Gunner back to his tattoo shop. Back to at least drawing, which she hadn’t seen him do once.

She’d forced herself to look in the full-length mirror daily since Drea took the bandages off. Wanted to know exactly what Landon had done, wanted to watch the black stitches dissolve and the bright red scars fade to pink and then eventually white, knowing her anger wouldn’t fade as quickly. Not until Landon paid, and paid dearly.

He didn’t have family. No one close to him that she could hurt him with, beyond Gunner. Even if there were, she didn’t think she could do that.

But not having anyone to care about was how the man stayed on top for so long. You couldn’t care about anyone or anything that could be used against you. And that was S8’s fatal flaw. She couldn’t see that changing any time soon. It was the only way to keep their consciences in check, the only way they’d ever be able to love.

“We could retire to an island. Work enough to live and then just hang out,” Jem had suggested yesterday.

“You? Hanging out? Doing what, lying in the sun? I give it less than an hour,” she’d scoffed.

“Maybe I’d love it.”

She knew she wouldn’t.

She traced the scars now, her fingers trailing as her eyes never left the mirror.

Every night, she curled up next to Gunner, fully clothed. And every night, he’d held her through nightmares that went from multiple ones nightly to one per night and then a few times a week. Body and mind seemed to heal at the same time. Having Grace and Dare and Key there helped. She could concentrate on healing, without worrying that everyone was in danger.

There were thirteen scars in all. Different sizes, some vertical, some horizontal, done purposely to scar. The biggest one bisected her tattoo and she traced the X that marked her beautiful flowers.

Gunner would work miracles on this. She knew that. But she hadn’t wanted him to see her naked yet, because she was more worried about how these scars would affect him than anything.

She drew a bath, sank into the bubbles and tried to relax. Time was passing. Plans were being made. Soon, it would be time to put up or shut up.

She would make Landon pay for everything he’d ever done to her family.

It had been seven days since they’d moved to this house, and the closer they got to firming up plans to take Landon down, the harder Avery had been pulling away from him.

She’d been in planning mode. She was healing. Stronger. Sharp too, but that didn’t mean she was totally ready for this. None of them were.

Gunner glanced into the kitchen and found the others there, except for Avery.

“Thought she was with you,” Jem said.

“She’s taking a bath,” Grace told him. “I just checked on her.”

And now he was going to. She’d been avoiding him and he wouldn’t let that happen. He burst into the bathroom and found her soaking in the tub, up to her neck in bubbles.

“Can’t a girl have any privacy?” she asked.

“No. None. You’re not leaving my side.” Jesus, he might as well have simply said, Me caveman, you woman.

She blinked, stared down at the bubbles. “Can you at least wait outside the door?”

“I won’t leave you alone inside a room with a window.”

“I’m below the window.”

He wanted to tell her that a sniper wasn’t the only way Landon could try to get to her, but instead he told her, “You need to get out.”

“Is it me or Landon you’re worried about?”

“Both. Now up,” he said firmly, held up a towel.