Two heirs to entirely different thrones.
One an elite underground empire for the rich, the other a corrupt cult lead by a fallen celebrity.
Nova Briggs (18) was only trying to escape her father's grasp when she accidentally ruined a bank robbery wo...
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Leaving Lucas to watch him go with a pleased smile on his face. He sighs, "He's just great, isn't he? He's just an eensy-weensy," He pinches the air between his fingers in front of himself "-bit of an asshole." Though, when he turns, his thick brows pinch.
I'm still stuck on the fact he knows who I am, that I barely register what's happening until he speaks again. "You didn't think I wouldn't recognise you?" His smile breaks free. "I couldn't miss your pretty face anywhere." He starts speaking out of the side of his mouth. "Neither could the rest of the AUS if they caught a glimpse of today's mission footage of the last robbery." He laughs to himself. "God, what a trainwreck that was thanks to you."
That does nothing to keep the sickening feeling from forming in my gut, his face softens. "Don't worry, I won't let anyone know it was you. I was one of only like five here in the facility that actually saw the footage in the meeting before we cut the video off early. So their shouldn't be many others here that will recognize you in the facility...but outside it? Yeah, you better hope we cut the footage soon enough that they'll forget your face."
I give him a tight smile. "Thanks."
"-Oh and I didn't actually burn one of our fancy computers. I haven't done that in at least- four weeks. I'm not that crazy," He nods to himself like he is trying to convince himself and not just me.
With an easy smile he says, "now come." He beckons me, waving his hand eagerly.
"Last time I checked I wasn't a lap dog." Hysteria must have loosened my tongue, as it slips through my lips.
He pauses.
I think I broke him.
Maybe he'll lash out.
Maybe he's actually as crazy as he seems, and this is how my mouth will kill me, but then- he wholeheartedly laughs.... It's large, and has a life of its own.
Having to even catch his breath as I begin to stride beside him. "You are quite yappy, aren't you?" He gives me a goofy tip of the lips. "Mmm, speaking of- Yolenda is quite a yappy name, don't you think? Reminds me of a Russian grandma. The kind that can't help but let slip the family gossip when she's had a little too much to drink." He spins on his heel to look at me for a second, walking backwards, "Maybe that's your name?" He takes my one second of silence as an answer. "It totally is!"
"Yolenda? Absolutely not."
"Really? I liked it." He pretends to pout but when he turns around, he's practically bouncing each step he takes. "What would you rather me call you then?"
"Ummm..." The truth is, I've never had a name.
My father has always said that it was selfish to proclaim ourselves anything other than what the God's themselves deemed fit. So each newcomer to the Sanctuary forfeits their name upon entry, and in order to keep organized we were numbered off. Well except for my father of course. He is always the exception.
