Chapter Twenty-Three #2
He leaned back in his chair, the flicker of firelight cutting shadows across his face. “I never lied to you, Bella,” he said quietly. “I just never divulged what I knew. Not then. It was too dangerous.”
I frowned. “Dangerous for who? Me?”
“For everyone.” His jaw flexed as if the words pained him.
He reached up, rubbing absently at his side where his ribs were healing.
“I’m not sure how much you know, what you’ve learned, but I never wanted to be a part of the facility, not the way you were led to believe.
I was placed there. Embedded. My background in molecular science got me through the door, but it was my combat training, my instincts, that kept me alive once I was inside. ”
I blinked, trying to process his words. “So you were a spy.”
He nodded. “For the government. For the side I thought was helping you. They wanted proof, evidence of what was being done to the experiments. I was sent to observe, collect data, and protect who I could without blowing my cover.”
My stomach turned cold. “Protected us?” I shook my head. “I watched you stand over the bodies of my friends. You didn’t protect them.”
His eyes shuttered. “I tried my best, but I couldn’t give away what I was really doing there,” he said, voice low. “I did try to make sure their deaths weren’t for nothing. Every file, every sample, every detail I could get out, I sent directly to the people who could end it. Who could stop them.”
I shook my head, the air thick with disbelief and something darker, a grief that threatened to suffocate me. How long before it did end? “And my parents?”
He hesitated, just long enough for me to witness the part that hurt him most.
“They were the first generation of GMs. They both had bat and human genetics. Like many GMs, your father’s body was breaking down fast. He was one of the dying populations.
He couldn’t be saved. Only their love for one another kept him going.
They wanted one night together before the end.
So they escaped. When security looked for them, it was assumed they’d fled outside of the facility. ”
“Are you saying they didn’t?”
“From what I learned from the reports and the people who were there, they were found in a janitor’s closet. Your father was already dead, but he’d died happy. He’d experienced real love in its emotional and physical form.”
They’d been together in the least romantic place imaginable, yet they’d been happy just to be together. I didn’t know whether it was the most romantic thing I’d ever heard in the world, or the most deplorable.
I swallowed hard. “And my mother?”
“She was one of the few GM’s who was strong physically, but weak mentally.
She withdrew...she didn’t even protest when the scientists took away her lover’s body to be examined.
She was inconsolable, her grief all-consuming.
His death broke her and she no longer wanted to live without him.
When it was discovered she was pregnant with you, the facility had to restrain her so she wouldn’t hurt herself. ..or you.”
The words hit me like a physical blow.
I pushed my wings low, past the hem of my dress and down the back of my chair, anchoring myself to the floor, to something solid. My chest ached, my heart hammering against my ribs. “No,” I whispered, voice shaking. “No...that can’t be true.”
Knowing my own mother hadn’t cared enough to protect me—a product of intense love—hurt more than I imagined was possible. The truth left me hollow. My wings ached. My breath came too fast. Even the air felt cruel.
Adam’s eyes held mine, calm and steady, but I could see his pain, and the guilt he carried even though he hadn’t been there. “Bella...”
I shook my head violently, wishing for just one second I hadn’t been born.
If my own mother hadn’t wanted me, what chance did I have that anyone else would?
All that angst, that bitter acrimony, it flooded from my mouth as though Adam was at fault.
“You knew, and you didn’t tell me? You didn’t let me know I had real parents.
You let me think I was born from some sterile test tube—“
“If I’d told you I would have either been kicked out of the program for revealing sensitive information, or separated permanently from you, and I couldn’t have allowed that,” he said quietly, his voice low, almost ragged.
“Believe me, I did what I could to keep you safe. I watched, I reported. I never imagined I’d fall for you so fast, nor care half as much as I did. ”
My hands balled into fists. “Care? You made me feel as though I was nothing more than your expensive prize, an asset to be added to your collection.”
“You were never just an asset to me,” he said softly, starkly.
“I admired you beyond any other woman I’ve ever known.
” He pressed a hand to his heart. “You touched me here.” His eyes reflected the flames glow.
“I respected your spirit, your courage and your intelligence, along with your will to not only survive, but thrive.”
I picked up my fork, the tines clanking against my plate. “Not my looks, then?” I asked, my vanity—my everything—needing reassurance.
“That goes without saying.” He reached forward, his hand covering my other one on the table. “I admired everything about you, but somewhere along the way, my feelings grew even stronger. I couldn’t help what I felt. I never meant to—”
The room seemed to close in around me. I leaned back, the air too thick, my chest too tight. Every feeling I’d buried clawed its way up at once.
“I—” My voice caught in my throat. I shook my head. “I don’t know if I can forgive you. Or even if I should.”
“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” he said quietly. “Not yet. I just want you to know the truth. That I’ve always tried to protect you. That I meant to take you away from that place long before I did. But you were too unique, too strong. The powers-that-be weren’t in any hurry to let you go.”
He looked away, the shadows carving deep lines into his face. “I’m close now to shutting the facility down. Permanently. No more cages. No more numbered cells.” His voice darkened. “No more scientists pretending they’re gods when they’re the monsters, not the experiments inside the labs.”
I stared at him, the words sinking in like sunlight on frozen skin. “What about the man with eagle DNA?” I asked hoarsely. “Did you catch him?”
He shook his head slowly. “No. When you escaped, I called off the search for Adler. I couldn’t bring myself to care. I was too invested in finding you again.”
So Adler was still free. It loosened something up inside of me. Another so-called experiment who now had a chance to live life the way he was meant to, free and without human intervention.
Not that I doubted someone from the facility was already tracking him down. Adler was a valuable asset, and the board of directors and the investors couldn’t risk any leaks, anything that could expose what really went on inside the facility.
Adam’s mouth twisted with something between pain and confession. “Losing you again...it broke something in me I didn’t know could break.”
The air grew heavier, pressing between us, full of everything we weren’t saying.
The silence stretched, thick and impossible.
I needed to do something, anything, to keep from falling apart.
I shoved some broccoli into my mouth, chewing hard, desperate for a distraction before I let out a shuddering breath.
The truth was heavier than I could bear, and yet, somehow, it was the only thing keeping me grounded. Somewhere beneath the grief, a spark flickered. Understanding. Maybe even the faintest thread of gratitude...and something else.
I forced myself to breathe, to focus on anything else. “What about Reuben?” I swallowed some of my wine. “Is he alive?”
Adam nodded once. “You asked me not to kill him. I listened.” His breath shuddered, almost like a sigh of relief, or exhaustion. “Despite everything, I think he genuinely cared about you. Perhaps once the shock wore off, he would have—”
“I don’t care,” I cut in sharply, the heat that had simmered beneath the surface rising now like wildfire. “I was blinded by him while I was trying to forget about you.”
He froze. His gaze locked with mine, burning gold in the low light. “What are you saying?”
I picked up my knife, my hands trembling as I sliced the meat, then stabbed it with my fork.
I shoved the chunk into my mouth—lamb, I realized vaguely—anything to stop myself from saying what my body already knew.
The first bite melted on my tongue, rich and tender, but all I tasted was him, his masculine voice, his overwhelming presence and nearness.
“You’ve been through hell,” he said quietly, his voice low, rough-edged. “I’ve only ever wanted you to be okay.”
I set my knife and fork down with a clack, the sound too loud in the sudden silence. “You can’t say things like that,” I whispered. “Not when I can still feel what those scientists did to me. What you let them do.”
Adam’s eyes held mine, unflinching. “You were extraordinary. You were always going to survive. But I watched over you, protected you as much as possible. I made sure the scientists left you...untouched.”
I frowned, his words dragging against my every nerve. He had once killed three scientists after their barely veiled threats against me had set him off. It didn’t stop me from asking the truth. “You saved me from scientists who might have taken me without consent?”
“Yes,” he confirmed softly. “Even someone as strong as you shouldn’t have to face something as terrifying as that.” He shook his head. “It was bad enough learning what happened to your parents. I couldn’t accept anything even worse happening to you.”
I stared at him, my heart pounding. Though he’d had nothing to do with my parents’ demise, it had touched him somehow. “Guilt’s a powerful motivator.”
“What I feel for you has nothing to do with guilt.” He leaned closer, his meal forgotten. “Every decision I made was to keep you safe and alive.”
He was close now, too close, his warmth brushing against my skin.
My wings twitched, restless and wanting.
I tried to speak, but my voice seemed broken.
My heart ached, heavy with everything I’d fought so long to dismiss.
When he released my hand and reached up, brushing my jaw, I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t.
“I can understand your hate,” he murmured, his thumb tracing the corner of my mouth. “But it doesn’t stop me wanting you.”
“I don’t hate you,” I confessed softly. “I—“
What? Did I dare reveal the truth? That I longed for him? That I’d loved him even before I’d acknowledged it?
When I finally leaned forward, our lips meeting, it wasn’t forgiveness that pulsed between us. It was fire. A storm breaking loose after too long contained.