Chapter Two
Hadrian
“That’s creepy as fuck. I love it.”
I jump out of my skin as Quinn’s voice echoes through my lab. I raise my hand automatically to my face, tracing the edges of the mask. I’ve told Candice over and over again to ask me before she lets anyone in, but she doesn’t bother any more when it’s Quinn.
I get the strong impression Candice resents the idea of having to ask. In her mind, it’s simple. Quinn is her friend. She can invite her into her house if she wants.
The constant possibility of interruption would have driven me insane a few months ago, but as time has worn on, I’ve started to relax. Or chill the fuck out, as Quinn puts it. And the benefit to Candice of having a friend has been incalculable.
Now, though, Quinn’s stare is making me self-conscious. Here, in the bright laboratory light, the mask feels ridiculous. When Juliet wakes up in my staging area, things will be very different. She’ll recognize me right away. The masked antihero she’s obsessed over for years.
Saldar.
Quinn edges closer, fascinated. “It looks so real. How does it move like that?”
“Don’t ask,” Candice cuts in before I can answer. “He’ll tell you, in great detail. There are nanoparticles involved. We'll be here all day.”
Quinn grins, as she always does when Candice makes fun of me.
It doesn’t feel nasty, though, more the camaraderie of a team.
That’s what the three of us have become, in a weird way, and it’s embarrassing how much I enjoy it.
In the years since Juliet’s betrayal, I spent so much time alone that it became all I knew.
“Thanks for the warning. It’s awesome anyway.” Quinn hesitates, then sets her jaw and asks, “When does your Ward…arrive?”
It’s easy to forget Quinn is a captive here. She seems to be able to push past it most of the time, but I catch moments where the knowledge hits her. Like now. Dealing with awkwardness isn’t my strongest suit, and I’m grateful for the mask as I reply, “Next week.”
The rasp of my altered voice still makes me jump. I’ll have to get used to talking in this thing.
The following silence is even worse, and I swear Candice lets it drag out on purpose before she breaks it. “Hey, Quinn, did you ever play Saldar’s Curse?”
Quinn brightens. “Oh shit. That’s the mask, right? I knew it looked familiar. What made you choose Saldar?”
An innocent question with a million loaded answers.
All Quinn and her group of friends know is that my Ward is arriving next week.
I still can’t quite think of them as my friends, despite Quinn’s best efforts.
They’re friendly, but we don’t discuss anything personal.
My fault, of course. Opening up isn’t my strongest suit, either.
I could tell her. I should, really. Down the line, once I have Juliet in hand, Quinn and her friends will be Juliet’s social circle.
She’ll need one. She was always the extrovert, dragging me out into the sun.
But I don’t want to tell Quinn yet. Talking about Juliet feels like giving pieces of her away.
I’m not ready for that. I want her all to myself.
“I’ll explain later.”
Candice rolls her eyes. “Might as well plug in. You’ll not get a decent conversation out of him today.”
Quinn shrugs, straps on her VR gear, and disappears into Candice’s world, leaving me as good as alone in mine.
I can’t concentrate on my work with the unfamiliar weight of the mask on my face. When the medical team fitted me with the prosthetic, they instructed me to wear it for at least four hours a day in the run-up to Juliet’s arrival, to get used to the way it feels and moves.
After a couple of hours, my patience is wearing thin.
It’s not uncomfortable, exactly, but it’s a constant pressure.
It picks up every movement of my face—if I raise an eyebrow, the mask’s inhuman features form a complementary expression.
It’s eerie even watching myself in the mirror. It’ll terrify Juliet.
Good.
It’s an old thought, bitter and nasty. I’m cursed with an eidetic memory—perfect recollection. Useful when studying for my finals, less helpful when I relive the worst moments of my life over and over again until I feel like I’ll go mad.
A knock at the door. Grim faces. “We’re seizing your equipment, Hadrian. We’ve had a disturbing tip-off.”
She didn’t try to hide what she’d done. I knew my work scared Juliet, but I never imagined she’d turn me in. I’ve heard that knock in my dreams for the last five years. And every single day, she’s still the first thing I think of when I wake.
I tried to get over her. The sensible way first—throwing myself into work, starting new hobbies, a few soulless hook-ups. When that didn’t work, I tried leaning into my obsession, hoping to sicken myself on Juliet until she ceased to matter.
Neither worked. She’s still my first thought. Every day.
When she opens her eyes in her specially created prison, what will her first thought be?
“Hadrian?” Quinn’s voice, and from the anxious note, I’m guessing it’s not the first time she’s said my name. “Hello? Earth to Hadrian?”
“Sorry.” I reach behind the mask, undo the clasp with my thumbprint, and pull it free. Cool air soothes my sticky skin. “I was thinking. What did you say?”
“I asked if you wanted to come to bingo. Seb has his stupid poker night tonight, and Ophelia will be…busy.” She pulls a face. “They asked us to watch the puppy for a few hours, so we’re taking him to bingo so the old geezers can make a fuss of him.”
I almost say no. I’m so used to refusing social events it’s practically a reflex, but then I picture what the night will bring otherwise. Obsessively checking Juliet’s prison. Watching over my clones of her devices. And, though I hate to admit it even to myself, playing her game.
I’ve played the free-ranging game for so long that I know every hidden portion of the map. I’ve beaten every side quest and made the story play out in a thousand different ways. It’s like diving into a part of Juliet’s soul. The dark part she hid from me.
The more I picture the evening ahead, the more it depresses me until I find myself saying, “Sure. What time?”
I’ll hate myself later. But at least I’ll be hating myself somewhere other than my apartment.
***
The music is surprisingly loud, considering most of the crowd are over seventy. I’m sitting with Gabriel, Jacob, and Jacob’s grandad, who has joined us for a drink before he kicks off his bingo night in earnest. Quinn, Eve, and a couple more of their friends stand at the bar, chatting in a huddle.
As Quinn predicted, a steady stream of older Brothers and Wards stop at our table to fuss over the yappy little white pup.
I take a sip of my beer and try not to glance at the clock.
It’s always the same. When I’m home by myself, I convince myself I’m lonely.
But then I get into a loud social situation, and all I can think about is sneaking back into my cave.
It hits me how few of the Brothers I know, apart from my current group. I really should make more of an effort. I scan the crowd idly as the conversation flows around me, and though I know some of the names, the crowd is mostly strangers.
Our table gets more than its fair share of looks, and while most are aimed at Jacob, a few turn my way.
My success with Candice is common knowledge—Kendrick spoke about it in painful detail at the last Brotherhood dinner I attended.
I try to avoid them like the plague, but he ambushed me and insisted I come to that one.
It’s easy for me to forget how revolutionary Candice truly is.
Some of the glances aren’t friendly, which isn’t surprising. I’m not the only one here working in my field, and now I’m way ahead. The Compound is a competitive place, and Kendrick’s formal recognition has pulled me uncomfortably close to the spotlight.
One man, pale with a hooked nose and short blond hair, pastes on a fake smile and nods. He’s a little better at hiding his envy than I would be. I don’t care about awards or prizes, but being the first to create sentient electronic life? I can’t pretend I don’t care about that.
I know him, along with the others working in my niche field, but he’s not a friend.
None of them are. We’re all cut from the same awkward, obsessive cloth.
When I don’t smile and nod back, his facade crumbles and he gives me a dark look before downing his drink and walking out. I wish I could do the same.
Jacob, who is a few drinks in, claps me on the back. I’m surprised it doesn’t knock me over. I’m still not used to my extra muscle and the bulky solidity of my new frame.
Echoing my thoughts, Jacob says, “You’ve been hitting the gym hard, mate. Bulking up for your Ward?”
Yes, but not for the reasons he probably thinks. I need to feel different under Juliet’s hands, even once the mask comes off. There can’t be a single trace left of the man I was. I have to become someone hard and savage. The monster she’s always wanted.
“Yes. She arrives next week.”
Jacob’s grandad leaves to join a group of his friends, and Jacob glances at him before lowering his voice. “You all set? It’s daunting at first, the reality of having a captive. Harder than you think.”
Not encouraging. I’m imagining it to be very, very hard, indeed. Borderline impossible. I almost confide my worries, but it’s not the time or place. He’s here to have fun, not listen to me stress out. “Yes. All set.”
He nods and doesn’t ask any more questions.
Bingo starts, and I tick off the numbers absently as the crowd gets drunker. One day soon—in a few weeks, or a few months, however long it takes me to tame her—Juliet will be part of this strange little world that’s become my life.
Since I entered the Compound, I’ve only left twice, and both times, I wished I hadn’t bothered. Some Brothers, like Jacob, still maintain a strong external presence, but I don’t feel the need. My work was never about fame. The joy is in the work, not the accolades.
I have everything I need here, except for Juliet.
“Bingo!” It’s Eve, smiling with her hand raised. Gabriel kisses her, and they stand to collect her prize. I watch them, hand in hand, and deep longing paralyzes me.
I promised myself I wouldn’t look until I got home. But I can’t resist any longer.
Like a drug addict trying to quit, I restrict my own access to Juliet.
If I let myself have free rein, I’d do nothing but stare at my phone, waiting for updates.
I try to allow myself one hour a day to immerse myself in her, but sometimes I need an extra little hit.
I slip my hand to my pocket and draw out my phone.
Five minutes. That’s all.
The explosion of messages that greets me blows that idea out of the water. I stand, walk out into the quiet street, and work through the jumble. She got fired? What the hell? The new boss at Brightscape is an asshole, but I didn’t think he was a fool.
I scroll through frantic exchanges with her friends, who all try to cheer her up by promising alcohol-fueled nights or proposing revenge ideas against her ex-boss. Then one name catches my eye.
Alex.
A hard, bitter lump drops into my stomach.
It’s been three months since I progressed from occasionally hacking into Juliet’s devices to having them all cloned and easily accessible.
In that time, her online dating conversations have given me the most information, nauseating as it’s been to read her flirting with other men.
I’ve taken careful note of the things that keep her interested and the things that cause her to ghost. She usually only chats with one person at a time, and so far, they’ve all fizzled before getting to the stage of an actual meetup. This guy, though? I don’t like him.
He’s rougher, speaks down to her, and is more demanding than the others. And the worst about it is she seems to love it. I read through the newest messages and smack my hand into the quaint brick wall of the bar. No safe word? Going straight to his house without meeting in a public place?
What the hell is wrong with Juliet? It’s like she wants to end up on a true crime podcast.
I lower the phone and try to order my thoughts.
Juliet is anything but stupid. She always had a wild streak, but not more than any normal twenty-something.
A few times, I had to pick her up from parties drunk or from outside a bar because she lost her phone, but she never did anything I’d class as really dangerous.
This, though? It’s like she’s not herself. She’s ignoring all the glaring neon danger signs. And I know what I have to do.
She wants to be someone’s toy? She’ll be mine.
He’s not getting his filthy hands on her.
I hesitate for an instant, then race into the bar and grab Jacob’s shoulder. He reacts, spinning fast as a cat, knocking my hand away. I catch an instant of hard determination on his face before he sees me and lowers his hands slowly.
“Woah. Sorry, mate. Don’t sneak up on me like that.” His brows pull down. “You okay?”
“It has to be tomorrow.”
Jacob’s demeanor changes instantly, snapping into something businesslike and commanding. He gets to his feet. “What does? Tell me what’s happened.”
I take a deep breath. “My Ward. Things have changed. I need it to happen tomorrow.”
Jacob nods, then leans down to Quinn. “Tell Grandad some business came up.”
He straightens. “Let’s go and see Kendrick.”