“But Ronan broke through his programming,” I countered.
“Ronan was conditioned under Prima protocols. They were experimental, imperfect.” Specter’s gaze remained steady. “By Quinta, they’d perfected their methods. And Xavier has been fully immersed in their protocols for over half a year now.”
The room constricted around me, oxygen suddenly scarce. The implications of what Specter was saying crushed against my chest, making it impossible to breathe properly. Six months. Six months might as well be eternity in this case.
“No.” The word came out sharp, definitive. “That’s not acceptable.”
“I understand.”
“You don’t understand anything.” I shoved to my feet, sending my chair scraping backward. “Xavier taught himself Portuguese in eight weeks when we were teenagers. He memorized sixty digits of pi to win a bet. He thrived in one of the most difficult units of the military without breaking.” I paced the tiny space, words pouring out faster with each step. “He’s the most stubborn, adaptable person I’ve ever known. If anyone can fight their way back from this, it’s him. He’smybrother. He will come back to him.” Specter remained seated, watching me with that infuriatingly calm expression. “You’re underestimating him,” I continued, jabbing a finger toward Specter. “You don’t know Xavier like I do. You’re reducing him to data points and probability.”
“I’ve seen this before.” Specter’s voice remained maddeningly steady. “The stronger the subject’s original personality, the more thoroughly they’re broken.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It does from Oblivion’s perspective. Strong-willed individuals make the most effective operatives—once that will is redirected.” His eyes tracked my movements. “Your brother’s greatest strengths are what they would have targetedfirst. His resilience, his adaptability, his intelligence. They use those qualities against you.”
The terrible truth landed like a physical blow. I stopped mid-stride, frozen as the realization took hold: everything that made Xavier unique, everything that made him my brother, was exactly what they would have systematically destroyed.
“So what?” My voice cracked, the first tear spilling over. “We just give up on him? I abandon my brother because some shadow organization decided to play God with his brain?”
“I’m saying that recovery—if possible at all—would require resources we don’t have, time we can’t spare, and methods that don’t exist yet.” Specter’s honesty was brutal. “And I’m saying that you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that the Xavier you knew might be gone.”
“How do you fight something that changes who you are at your core?” The question tore from me, raw and desperate. “What does that even leave?”
With a violent sweep of my arm, I sent files and papers flying across the cramped basement. Notes scattered like fallen leaves, my laptop skidding dangerously close to the edge of the table as the frustration burned through me.
“I should have known,” I whispered, my voice breaking as I sank to my knees among the scattered evidence. “I’m a goddamn investigative journalist. I uncover conspiracies for a living, and I couldn’t even save my own brother.”
The guilt crushed me from within—every lead I’d chased felt two years too late. Xavier had protected me our entire lives. When he needed me most, I wasn’t fast enough. Didn’tpush hard enough. I followed proper channels and filed paperwork while the system swallowed him whole.
My control shattered completely. Tears flowed freely, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I knelt amid the wreckage of my research.
“I should have known something was wrong. Xavier never missed our Sunday calls—not once in seven years.” My hands trembled violently as I gathered scattered pages with no purpose. “He told me people were watching him. I thought he was being paranoid, but I should have listened. Should have dug deeper instead of telling him that it would be fine once he got out of prison. I failed him. I failed the only family I had left.”
I collapsed forward, palms pressed against the cold concrete floor as sobs wracked my body. The grief I’d held back for months crashed through every defense, some emotional dam finally breaking after being strong for so long.
I was barely aware of movement beside me until Specter’s hand touched my shoulder—tentative at first, then firmer as he helped me sit upright. The gesture was so unexpected that my sobbing intensified.
Specter’s arms encircled me awkwardly, as if comfort was a foreign language he was attempting for the first time. I clung to him regardless, desperate for human contact after weeks of isolation and fear—aside from Ronan, of course. Aside from the man who decided I wasn’t worth working with. My tears soaked into the fabric of his shirt as I broke apart completely in the arms of this lethal stranger.
The sudden tension in Specter’s muscles alerted me first—a shift so subtle most wouldn’t notice it. His breathing changed, became more measured, controlled. The atmosphere in the basement shifted with it.
The rain surged against the windows, sheets of water hammering the glass like nature’s own percussion. Something changed in the air pressure—that subtle pop you feel when descending a mountain.
Time slowed as footsteps approached from behind—heavy, deliberate steps that I recognized before I fully processed their meaning. My body knew those footsteps, recognized their cadence on a level deeper than thought.
I remained frozen in Specter’s loosening embrace, my breath caught in my throat. The footsteps stopped, and I felt suddenly exposed, tear-streaked and vulnerable, with nowhere to hide.
I slowly turned my head.
His silhouette dominated the doorway, dark and imposing. Rainwater streamed from his coat in rivulets, forming a growing puddle at his feet. He stood utterly still, water continuing to drip from his clothing as his eyes registered my tear-streaked face.
Ronan.
He was back.
My heart slammed against my ribs—a chaotic mixture of relief, anger, and something dangerously close to need surging through me. The betrayal from hours ago clashed with the undeniable pull I felt toward him. I wanted toscream at him and collapse into his arms simultaneously, the contradictory impulses leaving me paralyzed.
