was worry about how it would reflect on him, having a less-than-perfect son. So he told Tim he’d cut his funding off for good unless he enrolled in the military and got his act together.”
He paused again, so I halved another log. Overhead, the sun sank in the sky, and the air grew steadily colder.
“I’m guessing that didn’t work out so well for him? Holland mentioned helping with a dishonorable discharge.”
Lucas shrugged helplessly. “We still don’t know exactly what happened, just that Tim went MIA from the army, and Holland covered for him. But Tim was never the same again. He’s . . . broken.”
Broken? I wasn’t sure that was the word I’d use. But Tim did seem jumpy. He startled easily, like the time when I’d entered the kitchen without him knowing. He’d whirled so fast, he’d tripped and dropped a glass. Sometimes he studied me when he thought I wasn’t looking. Pulse and blood pressure analysis made it clear that I made him uncomfortable. Was it because he was always drunk? Or was there something else?
I’d learned never to discount any hint of suspicion, however small. Even though Tim seemed more likely to pass out standing up than do anything to endanger me, he was still on my radar as someone to watch.
I continued to hack wood until we had a sizable pile, watching Lucas out of my peripheral vision. There were only two people I trusted in this world. One of them was right next to me, and the other I hoped was on his way back to California, driving down the Pacific Coast Highway toward the home that he loved, where he could be happy again . . . and free.
Lucas bent to place the halved pieces on the makeshift carrier—a plastic sled attached to a rope—and I helped. Then, we dragged the wood toward the cabin.
As we walked, something occurred to me. “If Holland is your uncle, why do you address him so formally?” I searched my memory and no, not once had I heard Lucas call him anything other than General Holland or Sir.
Lucas snorted. “Are you kidding? Do you think he’s the kind of guy who’d be okay going by Uncle? Please. He’s all about the power, always has been. What’s the point of being a general if you can’t lord it over people?”
I nodded. That fit in with everything I knew about Holland. He was power hungry, and he wanted complete control. To him, image was everything, and if you threatened that image, well . . . the consequences could be disastrous.
My mind conjured up an image of Holland’s sun-worn face, complete with lifeless gray eyes, and my teeth clenched. Precisely why I’d have to leave this mountain eventually.
I swooped down and grabbed a log, calculating just how much pressure I’d need to use in order to reduce it to a crumble of dust. The lingering image of Holland’s face unleashed a cascade of pain and anguish, then a wave of blind rage. For a moment, there was a flicker of memory. My fingers clutched something cold and metal; a scream almost brought me to my knees. But before I could capture the flickers in a complete picture, the memory was gone.
I looked down at my hands, which were now covered in brown ash. Bits of splintered wood piled at my feet. Lucas kicked the debris away without so much as a raised brow, like he’d seen me crush a log a million times before.
Lucas was different from anyone I knew.
In his case, different was a good thing.
TWO
When Lucas opened the door to the cabin, a gust of heat hit us like a wall. I recoiled, my mind sucked back into the past once again. I’d barely saved my mom from the fire Holland had engineered back in his underground lab, and then there were the wisps of Sarah’s memory. Another fire, blazing through a house in the suburbs. Billowing smoke, hungry flames. My dad’s frantic voice. A different girl, with a different past . . . whose history lived on in me.
“Mila? You okay?”
I blinked, and the inferno disappeared. Only a small, cheerful fire blazed in the stone fireplace.
“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just . . . fires. They make me a little twitchy sometimes.”
Lucas shot me a sympathetic look. “Understandable.”
Tim turned from the small stove, where a large stockpot steamed, filling the cabin with the aroma of beef stew. As he stirred, I noticed his hands trembled a little on the