Access Denied: The Bullseye

15. Castles of Sand

They could leave, Genevieve decided. But she was staying here. She didn't want safety anymore. Maybe she was better off with Redstone. The occasional knife she could handle. Trying to save the world because some people are too smart—she could not. Jackson saw that in her. Very slowly, like he was approaching an injured animal, he came near her. For a moment she thought he'd come to her. And he did. But instead of trying to interact, he only pulled the bulb out of her hand. His touch was gentle, but Genevieve knew he was angry. Then he picked up the necklace. 

She kept her head down. What did you say after that. She called him a hypocrite, insensitive and so many other things in just less than three minutes. There were only two responses to something like that—break down crying or raging anger. And Jackson wasn't a crier. 

Jackson delicately turned the piece in his hands, his finger prodding each dent and turn. He was looking for the tracker. He should've found it fairly soon, considering it was solely for the purpose of tracking if gone lost. It wasn't planted to track the person wearing it. It wasn't supposed to be hidden. 

He moved to the door and stepped outside for a while. Probably to dispose of the tracker. He returned very quickly, with Carlos on his tail. "What do you mean you're not going?"

"I'm not going Carlos," he said quietly. "You can tell the others."

"We can't stay here for longer. They know where we are. They are coming here. Here. Do you understand me Jackson?"

This was the first time Genevieve had seen Carlos interact with someone. This was the first time she had seen him be serious and civil beyond the nods and hand waves. Jackson looked right at her. He was angry. But he was waiting, calming himself down maybe. Maybe he was waiting for her apologize, for her to get up off the ground. His eyes were prodding her. She felt Carlos's gaze on her. 

"It's disposed of. The tracker is far away and tweaked to misdirect them," Jackson told him. "Ishaan's handled that. I'll be fine."

"Are you okay Gen—"

"I'm fine."

Carlos looked at them both then took a step back. He knew there was a fight coming. He couldn't say anything. He couldn't do anything. So muttering, he took the shared burner phone out and stepped out the door. He was probably calling the others. Probably calling Flynn to tell him that his team player was about to start something. She was. She intended this fight to be explosive. And so did Jackson. 

"You could be nicer to him."

Off-topic trailing to full-blown core argument. It was his way of starting fights. It got you agitated and thinking about other things that didn't concern where he was taking the conversation. Then he struck you. She didn't understand it before. But she had grown. She was older now. Smarter. Not just Jackson Wilfred, the genius's sister. But Genevieve Wilfred, a petty thief. Not the greatest growth story, but she was someone separate and exclusive from him. It was calming in a sense. 

"I'm not leaving," she met his eyes. "I mean it."

He paced. He was really trying. But Genevieve had never calmed down anyone. She hyped them up. He would be lashing in no time. 

"Genevieve," he sighed. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing. I want you to go and leave me here. I'll find my way out of whatever mess this is. I don't need you're—"

"No Genevieve. You do actually. You really, really do. Because you don't seem to understand that people aren't nice to you just because they have to be. They're nice to you because they see you as a person who is hurting. And I think the way you treat that concern is really no—impolie. It's mean and unnecessary. You weren't like this before."