Chapter 28
EVELYN
The knock came soft and hesitant, so unlike the confident rap of the team. I’d just gotten Sophia settled into deep sleep, her small body finally relaxed after an hour of fighting rest. The sound made my pulse spike.
Trent opened the door before I could move. Gage stood in the hallway, leaning heavily against the doorframe. Sweat plastered his dark hair to his forehead. His face had gone gray, his eyes too bright with fever. He looked like he might collapse any second.
“Need to talk,” he said, voice rough as gravel. “To both of you.”
My stomach dropped. I knew what this was about. The information Trent had found in Montana—the truth about Sophia’s conception. The violation neither Gage nor I had known about until days ago.
“Come in,” I said, moving to his side. “Sit before you fall down.”
He made it three steps before his legs gave out. I caught his arm, felt the tremor running through him, the unnatural heat radiating from his skin. Together, Trent and I guided him to the chair by the window. He sat hard, breathing like he’d run miles instead of walked down a hallway.
Alistair appeared in the doorway, medical bag already in hand. He must have been hovering nearby, watching for this exact moment.
“Give us a minute,” Gage said, waving him off without looking up.
Alistair’s gaze found mine, a question in his eyes. I nodded. Whatever Gage needed to say, he needed to say it. Alistair withdrew, closing the door with barely a sound.
Silence pressed down on the small room. Gage stared at his hands where they gripped the chair arms, shaking so badly he couldn’t keep them still.
His jaw worked like he was chewing words too big to swallow.
I sat on the edge of the bed, my body tense, waiting.
Trent stayed standing near the door, giving us both space but close enough to intervene if needed.
“They told me,” Gage said finally. His voice cracked on the words. “About Sophia. About what they did.”
My breath caught in my chest.
“Subject L-7.” A bitter laugh escaped him. “That was my designation. My DNA. They took it while they were cutting me open and rebuilding me into their weapon. Used it to make her.” His fevered eyes found mine. “Without asking either of us.”
The words landed like blows. I’d known this was coming—had known since Montana when Trent discovered the truth in those files. But hearing Gage say it out loud, seeing the raw pain in his face, made it real in a way nothing else had.
“I didn’t know,” I whispered. My throat felt too tight. “I thought she was Langston’s. When I went through the IVF, they told me—“ The words stuck. “They never said she wasn’t his.”
“I know.” Gage’s hands curled into fists, the tremors making the gesture look violent instead of controlled. “They used us both. Turned our bodies into resources. Made a kid without consent from either parent.” His voice dropped to almost nothing. “Made her to be what I am.”
“I’m sorry.” The words felt inadequate, too small for the enormity of what had been done to us.
“Why?” His head snapped up, confusion crossing his features. “You didn’t do anything. You were a victim same as me.”
I hadn’t thought of it that way. Hadn’t let myself.
For the past week, since learning the truth, I’d been so focused on Sophia—on protecting her from this knowledge, on making sure she never felt like an experiment—that I hadn’t processed my own violation.
My body used without permission. My daughter created from stolen genetic material.
“She’s got my modifications,” Gage said, staring at his shaking hands again. “The healing factor. The enhanced metabolism. All the shit they built into me.” His voice dropped lower. “They designed her to be what I became. A weapon.”
“No.” The word came out sharp, fierce. “She’s not a weapon. She’s a five-year-old girl who draws butterflies and sleeps with her stuffed rabbit and wants to know when the stars come out so she can look up at them before bed.”
Something flickered across Gage’s face. Pain, maybe. Or longing. “She draws butterflies?”
“Obsessed with them since Beth did a lesson on metamorphosis. Transformation. Changing into something new.” I saw him flinch at the words and understood. We were all trying to transform, to become something other than what had been done to us.
Gage closed his eyes. “Of course she is.”
Through the wall, I could hear Sophia’s quiet breathing. Safe. Asleep. Unaware that three adults sat in the next room wrestling with the nightmare of her creation.
The silence stretched again, but this time it felt different. Less hostile. More like shared grief.
“You can be part of her life if you want,” I said finally, the words coming out gentler than I’d planned. “No pressure. No expectations. But if you wanted to be Uncle Gage, or just Gage on the team with Trent, the door would be open.”
“I’m not her father.” The words came out harsh, defensive, like he was trying to convince himself as much as us. “Trent is. In all the ways that matter.”
I saw Trent’s posture shift slightly, saw something cross his face too fast to name.
“You saved her,” Gage continued, his fevered gaze moving to Trent. “You got them out of that cult. You protected them in Garnett. You came to Helsinki when she was taken.” His voice roughened. “You’re the one she calls for at night. You’re the one she trusts. Biology doesn’t change that.”
Trent opened his mouth, but Gage cut him off.
“I’m dying,” he said flatly. “The biohacking is killing me. Alistair says I’ve got months, if we’re lucky.
” His jaw clenched, a muscle jumping beneath the fevered skin.
“Even if we find a cure, I’m too fucked up to be around a kid.
That little girl deserves better than some broken experiment who’s barely holding himself together. ”
“You’re not—“ I started, but he talked over me.
“Yes, I am.” His hands shook harder, knuckles white where he gripped the chair.
“I’ve got rage I can barely control. Trauma I can’t shake.
I disappeared for two weeks after a mission because I couldn’t face people.
” He looked at me then, really looked at me, and I saw the truth in his eyes.
“You think that’s what a five-year-old needs? ”
The raw honesty in his voice cut through every protest I wanted to make. He wasn’t being self-deprecating. He was being realistic about what he could offer.
“She needs stability,” he continued. “She needs someone who’ll be there. Someone who won’t fall apart or disappear or die from modifications they never asked for.” His gaze moved back to Trent. “She needs you.”
My chest ached. For him. For us. For the choice that had been stolen from all of us.
“The door stays open,” I said quietly. “Whatever you decide. However you want to be part of her life, or not. But I want you to know—“ I had to pause, had to steady my voice. “What they did to you, what they did to me, none of that was our fault. We’re both victims of the same people.”
Gage nodded, and something that looked like relief crossed his face. Like he’d been carrying guilt for this, for what Innovixus had done to both of us.
“Thank you,” he said. “For saying that.”
“And for what it’s worth,” Trent added quietly, “you went into that facility in Montana. You helped shut down the people who did this to you. To all of us. That makes you a good man, whatever else you think you are.”
Gage’s throat worked. For a moment, I thought he might break down completely. “I didn’t do it for thanks.”
“We know,” I said. “You did it to protect her. That matters.”
Another tremor ran through him, this one strong enough that his whole body shook. He pushed himself to his feet with visible effort, swaying slightly before he caught his balance. “I should go. Let Alistair fuss over me some more.”
“Gage,” Trent said as he reached the door.
He stopped, hand on the frame, not turning around.
“If you change your mind,” Trent continued. “If someday you want to be part of her life in whatever way works for you—“
“I won’t.” Gage’s voice had lost its certainty. “She deserves better.”
He left before either of us could respond. Through the partially open door, I heard Alistair’s quiet murmur, heard Gage’s harsh breathing, heard the sound of him collapsing into a chair in the next room. The door clicked shut softly.
I sat frozen on the bed, my hands clenched in my lap. I didn’t realize I was shaking until Trent crossed the room and knelt in front of me. His hands covered mine, warm and steady.
“You okay?” he asked.
Was I? I’d just had a conversation with the man whose genetic material had been stolen to create my daughter. The man who was dying from the same experiments that gave Sophia her abilities. The man who looked at us both like we were something precious he couldn’t have.
“He’s wrong,” I said finally. “About deserving better. He’s a good man who got hurt.”
“I know.”
“But he’s right about you.” I looked up, meeting Trent’s eyes. “You are her father. In all the ways that matter.”
Trent’s hands tightened on mine. “And you? Are you okay with that?”
Was I? Sophia wasn’t Langston’s. She was mine and Gage’s, created without our knowledge or consent. But she’d been loved and raised by me. Protected and cherished by Trent. Biology didn’t make a family. Choice did.
“I want this,” I said, my voice steadying. “Us. The team. Seattle. I want to stop running and start fighting. I want the family we’ve become.”
Trent rose, pulling me up with him. His arms came around me, solid and sure. I pressed my face into his shoulder and let myself feel it all—the violation, the grief, the relief, the choice.
“We’ll make it work,” he murmured into my hair.
“I know we will.” My voice came out muffled against his shirt. “Because we have before. And we will again.”
He drew back slightly, his hand coming up to cup my face. His thumb traced my cheekbone, gentle despite the calluses. When I looked up, his eyes held something I’d rarely seen from him. Vulnerability. Hope.
“I need you to know,” he said quietly. “This isn’t just about the team or the mission. It hasn’t been for a long time.”
My breath caught.
“I look at Sophia and I see my daughter. I look at you and I see my future.” His voice roughened. “I want to build something with you. Something permanent.”
The words settled into my chest, warm and certain. “I want that too.”
He leaned down, giving me time to pull away if I wanted. I didn’t. I rose onto my toes, closing the distance between us. When our lips met, it wasn’t desperate or frantic. Just sure. A promise made without words.
His hand slid from my face to the back of my neck, pulling me closer.
I felt the tension leave my body as I leaned into him, felt his warmth seeping through my borrowed sweater.
The kiss deepened, and for a moment we weren’t fugitives in a safe house.
We weren’t victims of Innovixus. We were just a man and woman choosing each other amid the chaos.
When we broke apart, I stayed close, my forehead resting against his chin. My hands found his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath my palms.
“Sophia will be happy,” I murmured. “She’s been trying to adopt you since California.”
His quiet laugh rumbled through his chest. “She has?”
“Mmm. Asking if you could live with us. If you could teach her to fish. If you’d be there for her birthday.”
His arms tightened around me. “I’d like that. All of it.”
I pressed my face back into his shoulder, breathing him in. Tomorrow we’d fly to Seattle. Tomorrow we’d start over. But tonight, in this quiet moment, we’d made our choice.
In the next room, Sophia slept on, unaware of the conversation about her future. Unaware that three adults were trying to do right by her despite the nightmare that had brought us all together. Unaware that tomorrow we’d fly to Seattle and start building something new.
Something that looked like family.
Something we chose.