Chapter 12
I never had any memories of my parents, so when I was younger, I used to make up my own.
I’d daydream about who they were, creating warm and fuzzy scenes that never happened.
My favorite fake memory is of my father helping me with my schoolwork at the kitchen table.
He’s so patient with me when I can’t concentrate, when my longing gaze fixes out the window.
He smiles and says that if I finish my math worksheet, he’ll push me on the swing before dinner.
In my fake memory, we live on the ranch in Z, and there’s a tire swing hanging from the ancient oak tree out front.
That’s where Mom finds us later as she walks up and wraps her arms around my dad from behind, nuzzling her face in his neck.
The sun is setting, casting a golden glow over the ranch, and I bask in the way my parents look at each other.
Soft smiles passing between them, adoration on my father’s face.
Their love wraps around me like a cozy blanket, and in that one perfect moment, everything feels right.
Except none of that is real. It never happened.
My father never helped me with my homework, because he was dead.
My mother never joined us at the tire swing, because she was too busy planning a bombing that killed hundreds of Mods.
I have no memories of them, only secrets.
Secrets that Kallister knows all about, apparently.
“It’s all right,” he says when he catches my stricken expression. His voice is gentle, reassuring.
“Is it?” I counter, sneaking another step backward. Fuck. I wish I had my rifle.
“No one else at the Dagger knew your mother, so they won’t see the resemblance. But I’ll never forget those eyes.”
My eyes. Of course. These fucking things have always been a thorn in my side. A deep honey brown, with flecks of gold around the pupils. In certain lighting, they can appear yellow.
“I don’t understand. You knew this entire time who I was? From the second I stepped foot on this base?”
“Yes.”
“So you were playing me?” Bitterness coats my throat. “Pretending to trust me?”
“No. I was waiting for the right time to discuss it.”
He shifts on the bench, angling his body so he can see me better. I know he doesn’t miss how I’m creeping away. I’m not being subtle.
“I wanted to get a sense of you first. To get to know you without bringing your parents into it. I worried you’d be on guard if you realized I knew your true background, that you would shut me out before we had a chance to know each other.”
He’s right. That’s exactly what would’ve happened.
“But you knew. You knew all these years that Jim was raising Marina’s daughter.”
“I suspected the second he resurfaced after deserting the Command, suddenly in possession of a child. A child who happened to be the same age as the child Marina tragically lost in a fire.”
I frown. “There was a fire?”
He ignores the question. “My suspicions were confirmed when I saw your photo.”
“If you knew that Jim was harboring a traitor’s kid, why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because he was my brother. My blood. And it was clear how much you meant to him, judging by the lengths he went to protect you.” Kallister pauses. “He loved your mother. Did he tell you that?”
The frank statement triggers a slew of questions, all of them biting my tongue at once. But only one flies out before I can stop it.
“Was Jim my father?”
“No,” Kallister answers. “Jake Hess was your father. I guarantee it.”
“How?”
“I tested your Company DNA sample against Julian’s. It wasn’t a match.”
My jaw drops. “You ran a paternity test without telling him?”
“Needed to be sure.” He doesn’t sound at all repentant.
“Have you told anyone who I am?”
“If I had, you wouldn’t have been allowed at the Dagger.”
“Because my parents were traitors.”
His lips curl slightly, and I sense his disgust. “Yes.”
As my anxiety rises, I start to pace the small space only to realize there’s no room for that. So I lean against the wall and slide down until my ass lands in a heap on the dirt floor. I pull my knees up, wrapping my arms around myself.
“I only found out recently,” I say, tilting my head toward him. “Jim never told me who they were.”
“You don’t have any memories of them?”
“Not really. My dad died when I was four, and my mom gave me to Jim when I was five. It’s mostly just fuzzy images.” Pain slices into me. “I don’t even know what they look like. There aren’t any photos of them in the Company public database or on Nexus.”
“Intelligence would’ve scrubbed them for security reasons.”
“Jim told me that my mother sent me away because I incited her. She realized how dangerous it was for me to remain in the city, so she asked him to protect me.”
Kallister scoffs before shifting his gaze away.
“What?” I push.
“Nothing. I won’t speak out of turn.”
“No, please do.”
There’s a long pause, then, “I don’t know if your mother ever protected anyone other than herself.”
His blunt words stab me in the heart. Somehow, I manage to keep a brave face, but Kallister just voiced the fear I’ve been battling since I read Uncle Jim’s letter. That my mother’s actions had nothing to do with my safety and everything to do with some unknown nefarious motive.
I’m questioning everything now. Every single thing. And I fucking hate it. I feel like my own mind sprang a trap for me, and like a fool I walked right into it. I allowed myself to craft a heroic backstory for my parents, based on the meager details Uncle Jim provided over the years.
He said my mother was brave, and my mind thrust her into the role of valiant warrior.
He said my parents loved each other deeply, and I conjured up a couple whose transcendent love helped them fight together against oppression.
Hearing Kallister call her selfish feels like a rug being pulled out from under my feet. In my mind, my mother was selfless, fearless, clever. She possessed unshakable strength and not a single weakness.
She was perfect.
I suppose this is what happens when you place someone on a pedestal where they can do no wrong. When you don’t acknowledge they might have flaws and contradictions and deep-rooted insecurities. Now that I’m learning all these new details, the perfect image I created is fading by the second.
I set her up for failure the moment I idealized her.
“He told me the truth in a letter,” I say miserably, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “One of those in-the-event-of-my-death letters. That’s where he revealed their real names, my real name. He said they were responsible for the bombing of Valterra Ridge.”
“Yes. They were.”
“But why? She was a Mod.”
“Marina was…a complicated woman. But now probably isn’t the time to get into everything.”
I capture the inside of my cheek with my teeth, gnawing on it. “Are you going to tell anyone who I am?”
“No.”
I gnaw harder. “Because they’ll hate me if they knew the truth?”
“Most of the people at the Dagger weren’t personally affected by what happened at the Ridge, but there are some in the valley who remember.
Who suffered. I’d like to think they’re enlightened enough not to blame a child for her parents’ sins, but it was a dark day in our history and…
yes, I worry some might hold it against you,” he says gruffly.
A dark day in our history, indeed. From what I recall, more than fourteen hundred people died during that attack, hundreds of them children. It sickens me that my parents were responsible for it.
It feels like my entire identity has been upended. I was desperate to join the Uprising so I could follow in their footsteps, and it turns out it was all a childish fantasy.
“Why?” I ask through the lump in my throat. “Why would they betray their own people?”
“There were many Mods who opposed President Severn’s reign. Your mother was one of them.”
“So she sided with the General instead?” Disgust climbs up my throat. “She helped him with his Coup? With the Silverblood Purge?”
“In her eyes, I suppose Merrick Redden was the lesser of two evils.”
I clench my teeth, trying to control my anger. “I never would’ve done that.”
Kallister stands, brushing the front of his trousers, then lowers his body next to me, stretching his legs out.
It’s a bit jarring because he doesn’t seem like the kind of man who sits on the ground.
Uncle Jim fit right in amid the dirt, doing hard labor on the ranch, mucking out stalls, but Kallister seems too put-together to get dirty.
“You would’ve sided with Severn?” he presses.
I don’t answer right away, a knot forming in my stomach. By all accounts, President Severn caused a lot of harm. He incited without remorse. Treated Primes as less than, scoffing at their inferior blood.
And yet…there isn’t a chapter in our history called the Prime Purge. General Redden killed tens of thousands of Mods in his purge. Severn, for all his flaws, never went that far.
“Yes,” I finally say. “Maybe he wasn’t the greatest leader, maybe his morals weren’t entirely on straight, but he was still a Mod. I wouldn’t have gone against our people.”
“That’s good to hear. Because we’re at war again, and I need to know that unlike your parents, you’re going to fight for the right side.”
“I’m not like them,” I reply through gritted teeth. “I would never betray people who are counting on me.”
Kallister pats my knee, giving it a quick, reassuring squeeze. “I know you wouldn’t. My brother knew it, too. He wouldn’t have gone out on a limb to protect you, to keep you safe all these years, if he thought you weren’t loyal to the cause.”
“And exactly what is the cause?”
“Creating a world where we can live free,” he says simply.
“At the expense of the Primes?”
“Only if they choose to be expendable. They don’t have to be.” He shrugs. “There is a way for us to live together, but it won’t be with them in charge. Every time they’re in power, we become second-class citizens, and we’re not going to live that way anymore.”
“When President Severn was in charge, they were second-class citizens.”
“Severn didn’t have an Authority. He didn’t have a council voting on important issues.
He took it upon himself to make all the decisions, whether the people supported them or not.
That’s not how we operate here. We care about your opinions, and we want to please the majority.
All we require in return is trust and loyalty. ”
“You don’t need to question my loyalty.”
“I don’t.” Kallister hops to his feet and extends his hand. “If Julian trusted you, then so do I.”