***
It’s too bright behind my eyelids. Too bright to be in my bedroom back home. Too bright to be anywhere in the Compound. And definitely too bright for the concrete stairwell.
My body feels light, like I’m weightless. There’s no pain. No aching limbs. I’m enveloped in a softness that makes my skin want to cry for joy.
Even though my eyes feel like they’re glued shut, I force them open and glance around the room. I immediately see Zane sitting in a chair. He looks perfect. Clean, fresh, and spotless. His face lights up when he sees me, and he moves his chair closer.
“Hey,” he says, taking my hand in his.
“Are we—?” I croak, before swallowing and trying again. “Are we dead?”
He laughs and kisses my hand, his lips barely brushing the skin. “No, we’re not dead.”
My eyes scan the room. I’m enveloped in a large, cushiony bed and surrounded by an array of pillows. The room is larger than my entire double-wide trailer and fifty times nicer. Silk curtains drape the windows, and thick, cream carpet lines the floor. It looks like we’re in some luxurious suite, but then I notice the hospital equipment surrounding my bed. “Where are we?”
“My home,” Zane says.
I sit upright. “My mother. Trey. Where are they?”
Zane’s hands guide me back on the bed. “They’re fine. They’re here too.”
“And Emily?”
“She’s with your mother right now, actually.”
“Can I see them?”
Zane nods. “In a minute.”
My body relaxes, and I snuggle back against the pillows. “Why don’t I feel any pain?”
Zane grins and nods to the machine pumping liquid into my veins. “Probably because of that. And because of this.” He reaches over and grabs something from the nightstand. Holding it in front of me, he shows me the vial of purple-colored liquid—Re0Gene—in his hand. “It’s hard to have pain when you don’t have cuts and bruises.”
“How long was I out? A couple of hours?”
Zane slowly shakes his head. “A couple of days.”
My mouth falls open. “A couple of days? But I don’t understand. The last thing I remember is a man searching the rubble for survivors. How did we end up here?”
“I came to as they were loading us into their vehicle. At my request, Rescue Services brought us here. There’s been a team of nurses and doctors around the clock for the past forty-eight hours.”
“And Trey’s okay?”
A pained look flashes through Zane’s eyes. “Yes. But there’s something you should know.”
My breath catches as fear claws at my throat. What now?
“The doctors did blood work on each of us, and Trey’s blood was… different.”
My heart pounds. “Different how?”
“Well, I guess I shouldn’t say different. It’s different from yours, but not from mine.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Trey is genetically modified.” He pauses to let the idea sink in. “And not only that… he’s my brother.”
CHAPTER FORTY
“What?” Surely, I misunderstood Zane. There is no way, and I mean, no way, they can be related.
“We’re brothers. We’re both twenty-one. Born on the same day at almost the same time.”
“You’re twins?” As if this could get any weirder.
“I don’t know if you can call us twins, but it definitely looks like we shared the same womb.”
It must be the drugs. None of this is making any sense.
“Since I found out,” Zane continues, “I’ve tried to talk to my father about it, but he refuses. He keeps repeating that it’s a mistake. But I know he doesn’t believe that. He, of all people, should know that science doesn’t lie. But how could he not know about this? Did my mother hide it from him? And if so, why?”
I’m trying to focus on what Zane is telling me, but I’m still stuck on the fact that Trey is a GM. And he’s Zane’s twin brother. How?
I think back to what Trey told me at the lagoon about his father and Penelope. Is it possible they had an affair? But that wouldn’t explain how Trey ended up sharing a womb with Zane, who is clearly Harlow’s son.
A thought tugs at the edge of my brain. My father. Did he somehow play a part in this? As a geneticist, wouldn’t he know how to implant two genetically modified embryos in a mother’s womb? More specifically, in Penelope’s womb?
“Does Trey know?” I ask. I’m not sure how he’ll take this kind of news. As much as he hates the Ryders, only to find out he’s related to them. Oh no, this can’t be good.
Zane shakes his head. “He’s been unconscious for the past couple of days. And I don’t know how to tell him when he wakes up. Or if he would even believe me.” He pauses. “I think it might be better coming from you.”
I nod. He’s right. It probably would. Trey doesn’t even like Zane, so he certainly won’t trust him. Besides, a shock that big needs to be delivered with something soft. Perhaps a few kisses?
I lean forward. “Can I see my mom now? And Emily?”
Zane rises from the chair. “I’ll go get a nurse.” He nods to the tubes snaking out of my body. “You aren’t cleared to leave your room yet.”
I roll my eyes in exasperation. “Can’t you clear me? This is, after all, your house.”
He laughs and leans over, placing a quick kiss on my cheek. “There’s the Sienna I know.” As he heads to the door, he calls over his shoulder, “I’ll see what I can do.”
***
Fingering the IV protruding from my hand, I contemplate pulling it out myself. Before I have a chance to consider it further, a nurse with short brown hair enters the room, followed by a smiling Zane. The nurse moves to my side and begins unhooking the equipment.
“I was just trying to figure out how to yank out my own IV,” I say.
“I thought you might try something like that,” Zane says, “which is the reason I brought Tandy to help you.”
Once I’m free from the machines, I slide off the bed, suddenly aware of the loose-fitting pajamas I’m wearing. Zane is immediately by my side, his arm around my waist, pulling me to him and offering support.
“I think I’m okay,” I say, slipping out of his grip. I try to ignore the hurt look that flashes across his face.
“Of course,” he says, keeping his voice light.
I follow him down the carpeted hall until we reach a room adjacent to my own.
“She’s still weak,” Zane warns me as I place a hand on the doorknob.
“But she’s okay, right?” I search his face for any indication that he’s hiding something from me.
“She’ll be fine. But… I just don’t want you to be surprised.”
“Does she know anything?”
“She knows where she is. And Greta and I have been filling in the missing pieces as much as we can.”
“What about your dad? Is he upset we’re here?”
Zane purses his lips together. “He doesn’t get to have a say, especially since I’m the one paying for all of this.”
I glance down at the ground, completely overwhelmed by his generosity. “Thank you,” I say, refusing to meet his eyes.
Zane holds the door open, and I feel his hand on my back, pushing me through. As I look up, the first thing I see is a mass of blonde curls hurtling toward me. Emily throws herself into my arms, and I squeeze her so tight I fear I might break her. As I sink into an armchair by the bed, Emily snuggles deep and fits perfectly on my lap, like a little puppy. For the first time since entering the room, I turn my attention to the red-haired woman in the bed. She’s pale, but her eyes are open and wide. She smiles when she sees me, my name lingering on her lips.
“Sienna. My sweet girl,” she whispers. She reaches out a trembling hand, and I grasp it as tears fill my eyes.
“Mom.” Holding Emily against my chest, I lean forward and run a hand over my mother’s hair before kissing her cheek. “I missed you
.”
“Oh, Sienna,” she says. “I was so worried about you.”
“Me? You were worried about me?” I cry out. “Mom, I thought I’d lost you.”
Tears fill her eyes. “I’m sorry.” She shakes her head, her tears falling onto the soft cotton sheet pulled up around her chest. “That man—he did something.” Her eyes are pained, and I wait for her to continue. “He tried to convince me I was someone else. Made me believe I was even married to someone else.”
The picture of the man with the distinguished gray flashes in my mind. “I saw the images, Mom. They looked real.”
My mother nods and turns her head away. “I know.”
I have so many questions, I need so many answers, but now is not the time. So, I just ask, “Do you remember anything?”
“No.” She sighs. “Just bits and pieces of being in that room with the rotating image projector.”
“You don’t remember that I came to the facility to get you out?”
“You came to get me?” Tears form in her eyes again.
“Several times. Different locations.” I’m actually relieved she doesn’t remember being abducted or that rat-infested cell. Maybe the trauma part of her brain decided to block it out. And for that, I’m grateful.
“I’m sorry,” she says again.
“It’s not your fault, Mom. I’m the one who should apologize for dragging you into this mess.” I close my eyes, my head feeling very stuffy all of a sudden.
“You need to get more rest,” she says, her voice so soft I can barely hear her.
When I open my eyes, she’s staring at me through half-closed lids.
I rise reluctantly, placing Emily on her feet. “You’re right, Mom.” I nudge Emily with my knee. “Come on, Em. We need to let Mom sleep.”
Mom tries to sit up in protest, but she falls back against the pillows. “If your father could see me now,” she mutters, half to herself.
I bend down and whisper in Emily’s ear. “Why don’t you go find Zane and I’ll catch up with you in a minute? Okay?”
She nods and runs out of the room, the door left ajar behind her.
Sitting on the edge of Mom’s bed, I take her hand in mine again. “Mom, when you met Dad, did he ever mention anything about a previous job?” Or previous life.
Frowning, she shakes her head. “But as you can see, I’m not the best judge of character. My own husband was gambling our money away, and I never knew it.”
I squeeze her hand. “Mom, I think there’s a lot about Dad we don’t know. But I don’t think he did anything wrong.”
Mom gives me a sad smile. “That’s sweet of you to say, but—”
“No, Mom. I found out things about Dad that go against everything we were ever told.” I give her a reassuring smile. “He was a good guy. He always was.”
She blinks a few times, her eyes brimming with tears. “Thank you, Sienna,” she whispers. “I needed to hear that.” For a few moments, there’s silence between us. This time when she turns away, her hand goes limp under my fingers, and her breathing becomes steady and even. I sit and watch her sleep, so thankful she’s safe. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past few weeks, it’s that I don’t ever want to imagine a life without my mother or Emily in it.
After placing a kiss on her cool forehead, I slip from the room. Zane is striding down the hallway toward me, his face lighting up when he sees me.
“How is she doing?” he asks, placing a hand on the wall beside me.
“Fine. She’s resting now. Whatever happened in that SGF room really wore her out.”
“According to the doctors, her blood work looks good, so she should make a full recovery.”
I bite my lip as I stare at him. “So, no lasting effects from the brainwashing or whatever it is they did to her?”
He moves his hand off the wall and places it on my shoulder, leaning close. “She’s going to be fine, Sienna. I promise.”
I exhale then, all my worry, all my doubt, expelling out of me. Then I think of Trey and a new knot forms in my chest. “Can I see Trey now?”
Zane’s hand slides off my shoulder as he nods. He leads me down the hall, and I can’t help the grin that creeps onto my face when we stop outside the door of a room only two down from my own.
“He’s still unconscious,” Zane warns me. “But the doctor thinks it’ll be good for us to talk to him. Might help him come out of it quicker.”
“Are you coming in too?”
“No, I’ll let you have some time alone. Just come find me when you’re done.”
I nod and take a deep breath before pushing open the door to Trey’s room. His isn’t quite as big as mine, but it’s still rather nice with a king-sized bed and dark-stained furniture.
My smile deepens when I see Trey in the oversized bed. His face is pale, but he’s been cleaned up since the last time I saw him. Instead of matted, his dark hair is now washed, curling at the base of his neck.
Despite the tubes snaking in and around his body, he looks like he’s resting. As if I kissed his lips, he might wake. I decide to try.
Leaning over, I press my lips to his warm ones. It’s hard to believe that at one time, I thought he was dead. Gone. Lost to me forever.
I pull back and study his features, memorizing every line of his face and yearning for the moment when he’ll open his eyes and smile at me.
I’m not foolish enough to believe with Trey alive that everything will be okay. We still have displaced Fringe members, and an overabundance of hurt and anger. We’ve experienced tremendous losses. We need a leader. Someone who will take a worthy stand.
We need Trey.
And I know that, no matter what happens, I will be there. By his side.
The slight twitch of Trey’s hand in mine causes my heart rate to accelerate. I lean closer and whisper his name, softly at first, and then louder. But he’s still.
Careful to avoid the wound in his chest, I climb into bed next to him and lay my head on his shoulder. His body is familiar, the scent of his skin is familiar, and when I intertwine my fingers with his, his hands are familiar.
I don’t know how long I lay there, our bodies touching, my heart aching to talk to him again, but when two nurses come in to check his vitals, I know it’s time for me to leave. I whisper a soft good-bye and kiss his scratchy cheek, which reminds me of our last night together in the Compound. The same night I thought he was dead.
“I love you,” I whisper.
The truth is, I do. And I can’t wait to tell him.
***
Every day, I visit Trey and sit by his bedside, waiting for him to open his eyes, to see me. Waiting for the moment I can tell him I love him, wondering if he feels the same way. It’s been three days, three long days, since I first woke to discover myself in Zane’s house. My mother looks better, stronger every day, partly because of Greta’s cooking and partly because the one thing Radcliffe didn’t lie about was treating my mother’s lupus. I don’t know if she’s cured forever, but she’s at least better than she’s been in quite some time.
Thankfully, I’ve yet to see Harlow, who I’ve come to learn spends most of his time in the west wing of the house in order to avoid all of his unwanted guests. It’s fine with me. I already know that at some point, I’ll demand answers from him. For now, he can play dumb, but sooner or later, he’ll have to fess up what he knows about my father, his relationship with Penelope, and the genetically modified embryos. Harlow Ryder isn’t the type of man who would let something like that slip past him. So what is he covering up?
It’s half past noon when I enter Trey’s room, anxious to see if today will be the day. I want to feel his lips on mine, his breath on my skin, and his hands at my waist. I go about my typical routine of placing a kiss on his lips and holding his hand.
“Hey, Trey, you gonna open your eyes today?” I wait a few seconds, like I always do, studying the curve of his lips, his strong jaw, and his barely visible chin dimple.
�
��I talked with Trina earlier, and she said about a hundred Fringe members survived. They’re hiding out, just waiting for you.” I lean closer, my lips brushing against his ear. “They need you, Trey. I need you.”
His fingers twitch and his eyes move behind closed lids, as if he’s struggling to find the strength to open them. My heart flutters in my chest.
“I’m right here, Trey,” I whisper. “Right here.”
I wait, hardly daring to breathe. After what seems like an eternity, his eyes fight their way open. Slowly. My breath catches as his deep blue eyes connect with mine. I’m taken back to that first moment I saw him, when he broke into the government facility to rescue me.
“Hey,” I say, my voice soft, my lips curving into a smile. I’ve waited so long for this moment that my expectations are running high. I expect him to smile back. To squeeze my hand. Something. But I’m not prepared for what he does.
“Hey?” His voice sounds thick. Different. He looks at me, confusion and uncertainty in his eyes. His gaze then travels around the room. “Where am I?”
I place my hand on the side of his face. “Somewhere safe.”
He studies me for a moment before he frowns. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Do I know you?”
At first, I think he’s joking. Or maybe he’s just a little disoriented.
But I quickly realize that he’s neither of those. I stare into his eyes, those deep blue ocean eyes, willing him to come back to me. When all he does is stare back with a blank expression, my hand slides from his cheek, and I lean back. “You don’t know who I am?”
He shakes his head, wincing in pain as he does. Raising his arms, he glances down at the IV. “What the hell is going on?” he mutters.
“You were… in an accident. Do you remember anything?”
Catalyst Page 29
