Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
“No.”
The word burst from him with a ferocity that caught him by surprise. Whitney, as well, if the way her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened was anything to go by.
If what she’d said was true, then …
Hell, he and his team were batting two for two when it went for going after people connected to Dr. Gardner and winding up with innocents.
If it were true.
And right or wrong, Blade was inclined to believe her.
Sure, it was one hell of a story, but they’d always worried from the beginning when Cassandra first gave them the sketch of the woman who had accosted her at the park with a warning for them that she looked far too young to be involved.
There was every chance the woman was lying about her age, but then again, he would have put her around early twenties, which was exactly how old she claimed to be.
What she’d said about From Nature also linked to what they knew.
That the woman Cassandra thought looked similar to the one she’d met, just several decades older, had taken a huge payout and retired early.
That was around twelve years ago, which would again put Whitney at twenty-two if she’d been ten back then when she graduated from college.
Graduating from college at ten with four degrees, that had to be a lie, right?
There was no way, and yet was it really any less believable than everything else the woman had just told him?
“Yes,” Whitney countered, although her bottom lip wobbled and tears shimmered in her eyes.
It was abundantly clear that she wholeheartedly blamed herself for each and every mark on her skin that she said counted for a person who didn't survive the anger and suicidal thoughts that came with the drugs.
There was a hint of defiance back in those big blue eyes of hers, and he found it somewhat amusing that she was prepared to argue with him over blame for the deaths of those who took her drug, but not to spare her own life.
“If what you just told me is true, then it would make none of what happened your fault. Little girls can't make their own choices about their futures, and your parents, damn, darlin’, they sold you.”
“If,” she repeated, and it was like her entire body sagged at that one small word. “So you don’t believe me. Of course you don’t,” she muttered, although that seemed to be more to herself than him, a reminder that she was on her own, she didn't have a single ally or a team member to have her back.
What he and his team had suffered at the hands of Dr. Gardner was horrific.
The tests, the loss of freedom, being treated like test subjects and not humans, and spending three years locked in a cage, the pain, the anger, but through it all, he had never once been alone.
There had been plenty of times during those three years of captivity that he’d wished for privacy, that his every move wasn't watched, and he could have just a moment to himself, but the truth was, he might not have survived it without knowing he had a team at his back.
Without them, he might have fallen victim to the same rage and suicidal thoughts that had claimed the rest of the test subjects.
“According to your own story, there’s nothing to verify it because your very existence has been wiped away.”
How the hell were he and his team going to know whether Whitney could be trusted or not?
He couldn’t even prove it was her real name.
There were definite indications that what she’d said was true, she was young enough for her story, and it did link into the sale of the building, but was that enough?
Trusting her could lead to their destruction.
What if the whole setup was a ploy? She goes to Cassandra, offers a warning, and Dr. Gardner would know they’d search for the woman.
Then she magically appears after the explosion that nearly killed them, and she has a whole house rented out a couple of hours away where she’s just waiting for him to show up.
Just because he couldn’t hear anyone out there in the forest didn't mean they weren't being watched.
This whole place could be under surveillance, and Dr. Gardner was just waiting for the rest of his team to show up to get their vengeance before springing the trap and coming in to try to abduct them.
“Because I'm just a tool to be used,” Whitney whispered wearily, and despite the fact that he still held her neck in his hand, her face angled so it was looking right at him, her gaze dropped, and a single tear rolled free.
Something about that lone tear called out to him. He wanted to catch it with his tongue, absorb it, carry the heavy weight that had been placed on this woman’s shoulder, a woman young enough that she was barely able to drink legally.
But what if it was all a lie?
A game?
A trap?
There was no way he could allow himself to fall for it without some sort of verification, but if there was none, then despite her possible innocence, killing this woman might be the only way to keep his team safe.
Abruptly releasing his hold on Whitney, the thought of ending her life making him nauseous even though that had literally been the plan when he followed her, Blade took in a deep breath.
He couldn’t allow emotion to cloud his judgment.
Who the hell would have guessed that after spending a decade believing he was barely capable of feeling any emotion that wasn't anger, that he would now be concerned that he’d make a mistake because he felt something?
Leaving her hanging right where she was, the safest place to keep her, even as Blade fought guilt because his gut screamed at him that she was indeed an innocent, he headed back for the farmhouse.
He needed to call his team, tell them what he’d learned, and allow clearer heads to decide what came next.
Slamming the door behind him, Blade went straight to the kitchen counter, scooped up his phone, and brought up Steel’s number. His team leader answered on the first ring.
“Nothing on the fingerprint yet,” Steel informed him.
“Don’t think there’s going to be anything on it,” he said.
“You got her talking?” Thunder asked.
“Yeah.” And he wasn't proud of what he’d done to make it happen.
For a moment there, he was positive he’d killed her.
By the time the haze of fury had cleared enough that he was able to process the fact that she was too young to have done what she claimed, Whitney had barely been breathing.
Now knowing that he might have placed blame on a ten-year-old’s shoulders left him … shaken.
“What did she say?” Lion asked.
“That her name is Whitney Daley. That Cassandra was right, and that woman who ended up connecting us to From Nature is her mother. That she’s the one who created the initial version of the drug when she was ten years old.”
“Ten?” Voodoo repeated, incredulous.
“So she’s what, twenty odd?” Dragon asked.
“Twenty-two, according to my calculations,” he confirmed.
“She created it?” Steel asked, again clearly incredulous.
“She created a drug that she wanted to use to save children living in poverty, but then her parents sold her to Dr. Gardner, who must have found out about it, and decided to buy her so he could keep her as his own personal little scientist slave,” he replied.
“If that’s true …” Lion trailed off, but they all knew what he meant. If this woman was innocent, then once again, they might have burned a bridge that could have potentially helped them.
“Is she okay?” Cassandra asked softly.
Dragging a hand through his hair, Blade hesitated. How did he answer that? Whitney was alive, breathing, none of her injuries were serious, but she could hardly be described as being anywhere close to okay.
But he didn't want to say that. Cassandra had walked away from all of them, from Dragon in particular, when she found out they had plans to go after Dr. Gardner’s sister.
The two of them had only just gotten together, and it was mostly because of the woman hanging in the tree outside.
While Cassandra now understood the stakes, he still knew she wasn't okay with torturing people, even if they’d believed them to be an enemy.
“She’s as okay as she can be,” he replied.
“Maybe I could talk to her,” Rose offered. “I know my brother better than anyone else because he raised me. If he kind of raised her, too, I can probably figure it out by asking some questions.”
“If she’s lying, though, and we bring her here, that makes for one hell of a security risk,” Steel said, and he knew that now the man had Rose, he took their safety even more seriously than he always had before. “Do you believe her?”
Therein lay the problem. As much as he hated to answer that, admitting his weaknesses to his team, keeping them alive and safe was his only priority so he had to be honest. “I don’t know. I think when it comes to reading her, I'm compromised.”
January 11th
6:05 P.M.
He’d been gone a really long time.
At least it felt like it.
Maybe it wasn't … Whitney wasn't sure anymore.
Everything felt hazy … distant … numb.
Other than an overall throbbing throughout her body, and a cold that seemed to have seeped deep inside her and would never be able to be removed, she didn't feel anything else, even though she knew she had several cuts from the knife, bruising around her neck from Blade’s hand, and her wrists and shoulders were a mess from hanging for so long.
“Doesn’t matter that you’ll never feel warm again,” she reminded herself aloud because she needed something to break the oppressive silence, and now that she’d started talking again that block of fear seemed to have disappeared.
What was the point of being afraid?
It wouldn't change the outcome of her situation.
Blade didn't believe her, and of course, he was right, there was nothing to verify anything she’d said, because for all intents and purposes, she didn't exist anymore.
“You exist for the purposes of revenge, though.”