Chapter 16
Maeve
The soft pitter-patter in the far distance echoed like a distant drum, setting the pace for my scattered thoughts. One, two, three.
One, two, three.
One.
Two.
Three.
I didn’t open my eyes. Couldn’t. I was here—but not quite. My body felt distant, like it belonged to someone else, but my mind… my mind was still mine. That had to count for something. That had to mean I wasn’t completely lost.
I didn’t know what would greet me when I finally opened my eyes. Maybe that was the real reason I stayed in the dark. There was safety in it, in not knowing. The not-seeing meant I didn’t have to face whatever awaited me outside this thin veil of half-consciousness.
Still, I pushed my senses out, desperate for any thread of information, anything to tell me where I was and what came next—every second counted. If Specter’s injection hadworked—if it had done what he promised—then I’d have to use every moment wisely. One wrong move, and it was over.
Then, like a door flung open, the world started rushing back in. Fast. Too fast. Smells, sounds, sensations—everything all at once. It hit me like a wave, and I could barely keep my head above the surface. My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard against the lump rising there. Even that small action sent a flare of pain down my neck.
The wind whistled somewhere nearby, thin and sharp like it was moving through broken glass. Birds chirped faintly in the distance—light, melodic, and so out of place it almost felt cruel.
Where the hell was I?
There was no more time for procrastinating, I decided. I needed to make my movenow.
When I tried to move, pain followed immediately. Every muscle screamed in protest, my head throbbing with each heartbeat, a steady pulse of agony behind my eyes. Istillcouldn’t open them. Had I gone blind?
I inhaled, testing the air. I focused on what I could smell. Dust. Mildew. Old wood and something earthy that reminded me of attics and abandoned spaces. Not antiseptic. Not sterile, like I remembered.
Not Brock’s facility.
My heart rate spiked at the thought of his name, pounding so hard I felt it in my fingertips. That man was evil beyond anything I could ever comprehend. Everything he had done to Reaper, Specter, me…to Xavier.
A white room flashed behind my closed eyelids. Clinical. Cold. Metal chair. Restraints cutting into my wrists. I couldn’t move. I was helpless, at the mercy of my captors. But my brother was there. I had seen him with my own two eyes. With each step he took in my direction, I could see the man I loved so dearly was erased. This was a shell of a man. A mechanical device to carry out bloody missions.
Xavier approached me. Eyes flat and empty. His hand raised and collided with my cheek. He had never raised his hand at me before. That was how I knew he was gone.
The sting of his palm across my face.
My chest tightened. I couldn’t breathe. Finally, I forced my eyes open.
A ceiling I didn’t recognize came into focus. Water stains formed continents on yellowing plaster. A hairline crack ran from one wall to a crooked light fixture.
Nothing familiar. Nothing safe.
I tried to sit up. The room tilted violently. My stomach lurched, threatening to empty itself. I fell back against the pillow, gasping for air. I was unsafe. I had to run, yet, my body was beyond my control.
My limbs wouldn’t obey simple commands. My body felt like borrowed machinery, and the operation manual was missing.
Fear climbed up my throat. What had they done to me? Was this how it started for Reaper—this disconnect between mind and body?
I turned my head to the side, fighting another wave of nausea. This time, I couldn’t hold it back. The remains ofwhatever I had eaten last spilled over the floor, just in time as I managed to reach over my bed. I gasped for air—though there wasn’t much for me to empty. Still, it left an odd, burning sensation in its way, like this wasn’t a part of my new, standard procedure.
Dizziness swirled the world around me, making it difficult to focus on anything around me. It felt like I may return to darkness at any point now, but then…my eyes locked on him.
Reaper. He was slumped in a wooden chair beside the bed, head tipped forward in exhausted sleep, but the moment he heard me, his eyes snapped open. The result of his programming, undoubtedly. He was taught to detect danger.
