Chapter 59
FIFTY-NINE
EMMA
No, no, no, no.
Not happening.
“How?” I whispered, one word carrying more shock than anything I’d ever felt in my life.
“The usual way, Emma,” he said smoothly. “I’m sure by now you’re familiar with the process.”
I shook my head hard. “I don’t believe you. My dad—”
“Your dad is the man who raised you, and as far as I can tell, he did an amazing job.”
He let the pause stretch, like he wanted to watch the horror settle into my bones.
“But genetically, you are my daughter. My blood runs through your veins.”
“No,” I whispered, refusing to accept it. Refusing to let this be real.
He offered a sad, almost gentle smile. “You are a Healer, Emma.”
He translated a small knife and nicked his palm, letting a bead of red swell and gather. “Check my blood against yours for genetic markers. You’ll see I’m not lying.”
I stared at the drop of blood in his hand, my mind blanking. “I don’t even know how to do that.”
“Sure you do.” His voice lowered, almost coaxing. “At least your translation does. Just focus on the knowledge it holds, not the limits of what you think you know.”
Wanting the truth more than my next breath, my golden haze slipped free of my body before I even realized I’d let it go. It moved on instinct—mine or its own—and the second it touched the blood in his palm, I knew.
Something was ringing in my ears, like the aftermath of an explosion.
I needed to sit.
Now.
Which was problematic, considering the room was conveniently furniture-free. No chairs, no couches. Only me, my unraveling sanity, and the scary-ass dude who had fathered me.
And because my trauma response was apparently furniture-based, the first thing I translated in there was a godsdamn lounge chair.
Dark red light shimmered, and suddenly there it was: solid, leather, looking suspiciously expensive. I dropped into it like a stone, fingers curling over the armrests.
My “father” watched me sink into it, then—because apparently dramatic flair is genetic—he translated the exact same chair and sat down directly across from me, his gaze unyielding.
“I realize this might come as a shock—”
Oh, look at that. I inherited my father’s razor-sharp grasp of the obvious.
“I want to answer all questions you might have.”
Questions. For the man responsible for mind-raping me into this life, who, as it turned out, was also my father?
I had more questions than my brain could retain! But the most important one…
“Did you have my parents killed?” My voice came out unsteady despite my effort to control it.
Gordon’s eyes widened, genuine shock flashing across his face.
“No, Emma. I did not,” he said, truth ringing clear in his words. “I would never have hurt your mother, would never have wanted you to know that kind of loss. And as I told you before, I’ve been trying to find the people responsible ever since.”
His tone softened, slightly. “But I have failed you, in more ways than one.”
My thoughts spiraled anyway, refusing to settle.
“You loved my mom?” The words slipped out, barely more than a whisper, as if saying them louder might shatter something.
“More than anything.”
“So you forced the Elder to mind-rape her only daughter?”
His expression darkened. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I shook my head, refusing to let him steer this away from where it was going. “Julian told us you were part of his group. The one experimenting, trying to turn humans into magi.”
Gordon scoffed, almost dismissively. “Julius lied. I had more important things to deal with than his madness. The experiments were his obsession, not mine.”
Julius?
“Does that mean you didn’t abduct three babies,” I pressed, “make him force the True Bond on all of them, of which I was the only one to survive?”
Gordon stared at me like I’d grown two heads.
“I don’t understand half of that nonsense,” he said flatly. “Why would I have abducted three babies?”
“Hell if I know,” I bit out. “I’m not the psychopath trying to turn humans into magi. But that’s exactly what Julian told James.”
“Well, Julius lied,” Gordon snapped. “Probably to hide the fact you were my daughter.”
I snorted. “How convenient. He’s dead, so there’s no one left to contradict you.”
His jaw clenched. “I can prove it to you.”
“How?”
Without breaking eye contact, he flicked his wrist, tearing open a cerulean window in reality.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I snarled. “I am not jumping through another blue portal. The future can go screw itself! I’ll make my own godsdamn decisions.”
“It’s not a portal to the future, Emma,” he replied evenly. “I want to show you, my past. Our past.”
I dragged air into my lungs like it might steady me. “Why should I care about any of that?”
“Because you do,” he said quietly. “Because you want answers. And because you deserve them.”
My gaze never left his. “If I do this—if I jump—you release Caden and James from the cave. You cut them down, and they join us here.”
“Emma—”
“That is nonnegotiable,” I cut in. “If there’s still shit to talk about, we can do it with them in the same room.
But I will not sit here listening to you ramble on, while the man I lo—” I stopped talking and forced a breath.
“While the men I care about are hanging from chains in some godsdamn cell.”
For a long moment, Gordon didn’t move.
The cerulean portal hummed softly at his side, light rippling across the stone like something alive, waiting to be fed. His jaw worked once, twice. I could practically see the calculations grinding behind his eyes, risk versus control, revelation versus leverage.
Then, slowly, he exhaled.
“Very well,” he said at last; all stripped of its earlier certainty. “We’ll jump together, and when we get back, I’ll release your men to join us for the rest of our conversation.”
I held his gaze for another beat, staring at the man who had shaped my life before I ever took my first breath.
Then, I stepped toward the portal. The air around it shimmered, cool and electric against my skin. As I crossed the threshold, reality folded in on itself; light bending, sound collapsing, time stretching thin.
And then, we jumped.
I found myself in a sterile room, the walls an unforgiving shade of white. Empty, except for a large window spanning the far wall.
I stepped toward it, heart hammering painfully against my ribs.
Where I saw them.
My parents.
Younger, but unmistakably them. Alive. Whole.
My breath hitched, and tears welled instantly, blurring my vision. A sob clawed up my throat as I rushed toward the door, nearly tearing it off its hinges in my desperation to reach them.
But the door wouldn’t budge.
“We’re in my past. You can only watch it like a movie.” Gordon’s voice was soft, almost gentle, as he squeezed my arm in understanding.
I pressed my palms flat against the cold glass, my chest rising and falling in shallow gasps as I stared at the two people I’d missed so much it felt like the loss had stolen all the air from my lungs.
Before I could spiral—before I could break over how close they were—the door behind me opened.
It was him, the same man standing beside me now, only in a blue shirt instead of black.
Past Gordon walked to the other side of the room, near the wall. The same age, same face, except this one’s expression was blank. Detached. His arms were crossed over his chest as he stared through the glass at my parents.
My mom lay on the hospital bed, her dark hair damp with sweat and clinging to her face. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths. My dad stood beside her, his hand wrapped tightly around hers, his other hand brushing tenderly over her hair.
He bent down, resting his chin against the top of her head as he whispered something into her ear. His thumb traced the back of her hand, grounding her as her body tensed beneath him.
My heart hammered painfully in my chest. “This is my birth?”
Gordon nodded once, his focus never leaving the window.
“You were there?” I glanced past him, at the man on the opposite side of the room.
“I watched every second of you coming into this world.”
Inside the delivery room, my mom cried out. Her face twisted in pain, as my dad’s hold on her tightened.
Past Gordon didn’t move. He seemed cold, but beneath that icy exterior, there was something fragile, a crack in the armor.
His mouth pressed into a thin line. And yet…
his hand curled slightly, his knuckles whitening before he forced them to relax.
Like part of him was fighting not to cross that distance. Fighting himself.
I almost started to feel sorry for him. Almost.
My mom’s cry split the air, raw enough to make my chest tighten. Then the sound of a baby’s thin wail followed, weak but steady.
My wail.
Tears streaked down my mom’s cheeks as the nurse placed the newborn—me—into her arms. My dad leaned down, pressing a trembling kiss to my mom’s temple as he cradled her shaking hand. His other hand brushed over the baby's head—my head—like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
The nurse gently touched my mom’s arm. “Let’s get her cleaned up, okay?”
She hesitated—her arms tightening slightly—but nodded anyway, her face still pale and sweat-slicked. The nurse lifted the baby carefully and turned toward the door.
And then the other Gordon moved.
He slipped through the door behind the nurse, as current Gordon motioned me to follow as the first one caught up to her in the hallway.
I watched as past Gordon’s hand slid over the back of the nurse’s neck, before her body sagged beneath his touch. He caught her before she hit the ground, lowering her carefully. His arms swept up the newborn as he stepped back into the shadows.
“What did you do?” I hissed to the man still standing next to me, watching the scene with an unreadable expression on his face.
“Just watch, Emma.”
His past version walked swiftly down the hall, pushed through a heavy door and into a small, abandoned room. It was dark, barely lit by the glow of his golden haze as he extended his hands and sealed the door shut behind him.
He stood still for a moment, looking down at the baby. At me. His dark eyes softened with something vulnerable as he held me close to his chest.
“You’re special,” he whispered. His hand brushed over my head, his thumb tracing the fragile curve of my skull. “You cannot be raised in the Human World. You are meant for so much more, and you need the knowledge only I can provide you with. I will take care of you, mia cara.”
A golden haze flickered to life across his hands and flowed toward the baby. But as soon as it touched my skin, his brow furrowed.
Then his eyes narrowed.
“What the hell?” He released the haze again, letting it drift toward her—toward me—but it slid off like water off glass.
“What the fuck?” he exclaimed, visibly distressed.
With a flick of his hand, he translated a dark wooden crib into the center of the room, and carefully placed the baby inside.
He straightened, his entire body tense, before he started pacing.
After a few seconds, past Gordon manifested his Nexus, his grip so tight the veins in his hand stood out. “Julius,” he barked. “I need your help. Portal into the Boston Clinic at once, fourth floor, room 313. It's a matter of life and death.”
The connection between both men cut off with a blue pulse of energy, visible in the Human World. A second later, the man I’d known as Julian appeared in a ripple of green light, his face tense and drawn.
“What’s going on?” Julian’s gaze flicked toward the crib, before his brow furrowed.
“She’s human!” Past Gordon’s roar shook the room. His hands curled into fists at his sides, his body vibrating with barely contained rage. “She has no magic! I don’t know how this happened. Her mother’s genetics must have overpowered mine.”
Julian’s eyes widened. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. “What? Oh my gods…”
Gordon’s gaze sharpened dangerously. “This cannot happen. You know this cannot be. You know what she will do.”
Julian glanced at the crib, then back at Gordon before he gave an unimpressed shrug. “What exactly are you asking me to do?”
A flicker of irritation crossed Gordon’s face. “Don’t play stupid. You’ve been working on this for years.”
Julian held his ground, though tension crept into his voice. “I haven’t tried it on a real person yet,” he said carefully. “You want your own daughter to be the first?”
For a moment, Gordon said nothing. His jaw tightened as his attention drifted back to the crib—lingering there, on the baby. On me. A muscle ticked in his cheek.
“She’ll survive,” he said, with a certainty that bordered on faith. “You know she will.”
Julian raised a brow. “How?”
“I don’t—” Gordon broke off, inhaling once before he forced the words out. “I don’t know. But in the vision we saw, she’s one of us. So this will work.”
“You really want to take that risk?” Julian pressed. “Based on some faraway future we saw nine months ago?”
Gordon didn’t look away from the crib. “I’ll heal her if anything goes wrong. She has my blood running through her veins. That must count for something.”
I screamed inside my head as I watched Gordon take out and cradle the baby again. Cradle me.
Julian sighed, more annoyed than concerned. “Fine. Your call. But if anything goes wrong, you leave my name out of it.”
Gordon didn’t even bother to reply.
Next thing, Julian’s dark red haze flickered to life, curling through the air like smoke. My throat seized as it snaked toward the baby, toward me.
The small body jerked violently as the haze sank into her skin. I watched as I convulsed in Gordon’s arms. My small limbs stiffened. A thin, broken cry wrenched from my mouth. My newborn form twisted, arching painfully, as Gordon’s arms tightened around me.
Julian’s haze grew darker. More aggressive. It thrashed around the baby, around Gordon’s hands, until the entire room pulsed with violent energy.
And then, the crying stopped.
The newborn’s chest rose and fell. My tiny hands twitched. My eyes squeezed shut, then opened. Dark blue and unmistakably awake.
“She’s alive?” Julian’s breath hitched.
Gordon simply smiled. “Of course she is.” His gaze lingered on the baby’s face. My face. “She’s indestructible. Exactly like her mother. And she’ll be more powerful than any other magi.”
Julian’s eyes darkened. “And be hunted for it.”
Gordon’s smile vanished. His gaze hardened, fixing on Julian with quiet menace. “You may return to Australia. I’ve had enough of your incessant thoughts on the matter.”
Julian’s mouth twitched into something close to a smirk. “You know where to find me if you need me.”
He portaled out without so much as a glance in the baby’s direction.
Right as I puked my guts out onto the marble floor.