Rebel Young

Part 17

Jack spent the rest of the day in and out of meetings with Lacey and Skylar. They had finalized the team and were making preparations for transport and supplies. Sitting still for long periods of time had never been my forte and I'd chosen to leave early to fill a blank in the patrol roster. The girl who normally would fill the position was heavily pregnant and had been forced by Brodie to take it easy. This patrol weaved through the city's least eventful sectors, so I didn't expect to have a very exciting three hours wandering the streets. Quiet such as this probably wasn't the best thing, but it was something.

There were a million thoughts whizzing through my head and clouding my perception. My brain had chosen to still partially deny that Ethan was alive, despite seeing his face only recently. That man couldn't have been my brother, it was just a convincing look-alike... who recognized me... and knows about my past... and­– Who am I kidding, that man was clearly Ethan Harrison Winters whether I wanted it to be or not.

The clattering din of a metal rubbish bin overturning roused me from my thoughts. Scuffling emanated from around the next corner and a dull thud dislodged large chunks of plaster. I drew my gun and turned the corner, treading lightly so as not to indicate my presence. Two men stood close together against the front window of an old clothing store, their faces reflected by the filthy surface. One of the men - the significantly smaller and younger man - was pressed firmly against the glass by his collar, held in place by the larger man. Blood ran in a thin stream down his face from a small cut across his brow.

"I'll make you pay for what you've done to my family!" The larger figure growled threateningly as he lifted the smaller man off of the ground by his shirtfront.

"Hey!" I called out, alerting the two men that they were no longer alone.

"Miss, I would recommend that you didn't get involved here," The larger man cautioned as he lowered the smaller man to the ground, his white-knuckled grip never loosening.

"Sir, I would recommend that you let me do my job," I retorted and flashed the man my license. Recognition flashed in the eyes of the smaller man, his body instantly tensing.

"I don't have time for this crap," The larger man groaned under his breath. "Look officer, let me explain the situation. You see, Griffin here has been giving my family shit for the last month or so. He insisted we have to help him with some 'master plan', but that is a load of crap–" The man was interrupted by Griffin's sudden attempt to flee the scene. Within the space of a second I had my gun raised and the larger man had once again lifted Griffin's feet from the ground. I stepped closer to the two men, my pistol glinting in the dim sunlight.

Wait... Griffin? The name struck a chord and I was presented with a mental image of the boy I had met recently. The Griffin from my memories – the scrawny boy dressed in rags – shared little similarities with the man before me upon first glance. But, when I looked a little closer I was presented with the same sharp eyes and defined cheekbones, the shy demeanor he'd first presented had disappeared.

"Wonderful to see you again Griffin," I remarked sarcastically as I angled a beam of sunlight off of the polished metal of the pistol and directly into his eyes. "How's Charlie doing? Funny how it's you in trouble this time isn't it."

"Who the hell is Char– oh," Griffin snapped, stopping short when he remembered the exact moment we had first met.

"So you look a little different to the last time I saw you, care to explain a bit?" I enquired, casually gesturing with my gun as I spoke.

"The– there's nothing to explain," Griffin stuttered, his eyes flickered away to stare at the grimy paving beneath his feet.

"He's lying," the larger man growled.