Chapter 19 Rowan
I woke slowly, cracking my eyes open. Every muscle ached, heavy and sore. The air smelled metallic.
I shifted and froze.
Sticky.
I looked down and recoiled. Black goo, partially dried and varying in texture from tacky to crusted, covered my clothes and sheets.
“What the heck?” I muttered.
Then it clicked. “Oh. Right. Wraith blood.”
“Disgusting,” I added, wrinkling my nose.
“You fell asleep in the convoy last night on the way back.”
I jolted at the sound of Cade's voice, twisting toward the doorway. I hadn’t noticed him standing there, half in shadow, arms crossed, watching me the whole time.
“Jesus, you scared me!” I said. “You really need to start announcing yourself if you’re going to lurk in the shadows while I sleep.”
Cade’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Not amused in the slightest.
“You fell asleep in the convoy on the way home. We didn’t want to wake you,” he said evenly, ignoring my comment.“But we’ll probably need to burn those sheets.”
I stared at him, incredulous, then looked down at myself again, scrunching my nose. “I cannot believe you let me fall asleep like this. Gross, Cade.”
Then everything slammed back into my brain at once.
The photograph.
Melker’s notes.
Patient zero and my dad!
My stomach dropped.
“Where is it?” I demanded, throwing the covers back like a maniac.
“What, Rowan?”
“The notebook!” I said frantically. “Melker’s journal. And the picture! We grabbed them, right? We have them here? I need to go through them—I need to figure out—”
“Rowan.” Cade stepped forward, voice turning commanding. “Relax. Breathe. I have it. We will look through it all together. After you shower. After you eat.”
I groaned dramatically.
“Also… there is the matter of your punishment.”
I blinked, mouth falling open. “What punishment?!”
I had killed a wraith. By myself. I was basically a badass. What on earth was he punishing me for?
“You argued with me when I ordered everyone to leave,” Cade said calmly. “And Killian told you to stay hidden. Instead, you shifted and attacked that wraith.”
“I killed that wraith,” I corrected, pointing at myself. “Me. By myself. You're welcome.”
“You could have been killed,” he replied, not impressed.
“But I wasn’t,” I shot back.
“That's not the point.”
“It's exactly the point, Cade!”
His eyes narrowed, that slow, infuriating alpha stare he used when he thought I was being a brat.
“You disobeyed two direct commands,” he said. “So yes, you are getting punished.”
I threw my hands up. “This is completely unfair!”
“You can file a complaint,” he said smoothly. “After you shower.”
“Cade!”
He raised an eyebrow. “Rowan.”
I flopped backward onto the disgusting, ruined sheets with a groan.
“I killed a wraith,” I reminded him, staring at the ceiling. “I should get a parade or a medal, or a present!”
“You're getting a shower,” Cade said, turning away. “Five minutes. Then food. Then a spanking. After that, we work on getting answers from the notebook.”
“Ugh!”
“And Rowan?” he added without turning around.
“What,” I snapped.
A pause.
His expression softened just a little.
“You did well last night.”
My face warmed despite myself. “I know.”
“But you are still getting punished,” he added, walking away.
I launched a pillow at the door as it clicked shut.
An hour later, I had scrubbed my body clean, piled my red hair into a messy, dripping bun, filled my belly with something delicious Talon had cooked for me… and my ass was sore as hell.
I winced as I sat down at the dining table.
Ryker noticed immediately.
Of course, he did.
He winked at me like the smug asshole he was. He had delivered my punishment. Hard.
“I hate you,” I groaned as my stinging backside met the wooden chair.
“I love when you talk dirty to me,” Ryker said, leaning back with that infuriating grin. “Say it again. Tell me you hate me, Kitten.”
Rather than engage and give him the satisfaction, I turned my attention to Cade as he brought over a stack of printed pages, the photograph, Melker’s journal, and a few of the folders from the classified box.
My nerves vibrated through me. Suddenly, I could feel the wolf clawing beneath the surface, as my emotions turned volatile upon seeing the picture of my father again. His kind eyes starred out of the photo, right into my soul.
"Dad," I whispered, tracing his face.
Based on the date of the photograph, everything he had told me was a lie. I had so many questions that I could never get answers to, at least not from him.
Talon nudged Cade, whispering, “Pills.”
Cade pulled the container from his pocket, shaking one into his hand and holding it out for me.
But I was done with the pills.
After killing a wraith last night, I knew what I was capable of. I knew how to keep control without being drugged. So instead, I did what Talon had taught me.
I let my nails sharpen and pressed the tips into my palms until pain stabbed through my skin, grounding me. The wolf settled, and my breathing steadied.
I shook my head at Cade.
“I’m okay. No pills, I don’t need them. I’m in control.”
“Are you positive?” he asked, stern and assessing.
I nodded.
“Okay. Let’s get started then,” Cade said, pulling a stack of pages toward him. “I’ll share everything I know and everything I’ve found. I was up all night going through the database.”
He passed neatly organized packets around the table.
I looked at mine.
Photocopied documents.
Patient Zero’s medical files.
Arca personnel records.
Old news clippings.
And more.
“These are my parents’ personnel files,” I said, scanning the first page.
“My father’s work history… it matches what he told me.
Honorably discharged twenty-seven years ago.
Opened Family Gynecology in Falcon City.
And here’s my mom. She taught at Falcon City Elementary. See—look at the picture. That’s her!”
“On the surface, the files look ordinary,” Cade said. “But I dug deeper, and they are not.”
My head snapped up. “What do you mean?”
“It took a while, but I realized both of the files entered the system twenty-six years ago. I can’t find anything from before that.” Cade leaned forward, tapping the paper. “At first, I thought they were file updates. But they weren't. They were new entries disguised as updates.”
My pulse quickened.
“Whoever did it was good,” he continued. “Someone who knew how to manipulate the Arca database. They gave your parents completely new identities. Flip the page.”
I flipped it—
And froze.
A photo of my father stared back at me, but it wasn’t him. Or… it was him, just younger. Smooth skin. Dark hair. No glasses. A stranger wearing my father’s face. The same strange version of himself from the old photo.
But the name…
“Dr. Alexander Russell. Deceased," I read aloud, my voice catching. “Who is this?”
“That was your father,” Cade said gently.
“Before he became Dr. Aiden Mills. He was one of the medical doctors assigned to Project Flame.
Thirty-three years old at the time. His specialty was gynecology.
His file stated he died in the medical wing fire, along with Dr. Melker, and several other research and medical assistants. We now know that's not entirely true.”
My stomach twisted.
“Likely, Melker brought him in to monitor…” Cade flipped back to the front of the file and tapped Patient Zero’s photo. “Her.”
“Because she was pregnant,” I whispered, trying to make the pieces fit.
Ryker lifted another file, eyebrows raised. “Okay then… who the hell is this woman? Because she is definitely not your mom.”
I snatched the file and scanned it.
“This looks like the pictures my dad showed me, but the name isn't hers… My mother’s name was Isabel. My dad always told me that my middle name was Isabel, because he named me after her!” I said sharply. “Not Rose. Who is this?”
“That's the point,” Cade said. “Your mother’s file is fake too. Here is the real woman whose likeness was used for your mother's personnel record and whose face you've been picturing.”
He slid another printout across the table.
“Alice Rose Rutridge. Beta. She lives in Yukon City. Alive and well. Works as a teller at Arca Bank. Husband. Three kids. Verified.”
My heart stopped.
So even my mother's face—the face I had imagined time and time again, holding me, singing softly to me, comforting me when everything felt overwhelming—even that was a lie. It belonged to someone else. A fabricated identity so I would buy the story my father told me.
My eyes swept across the table and caught on the photo of Patient Zero.
Her wide eyes, hollow and exhausted.
Her swollen belly, ready to burst.
Ready to have a baby.
Twenty-six years ago.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, covering my mouth as the realization hit like a punch.
As I did, Cade slid Melker’s journal toward me and tapped a page.
The entry read:
May 4th
Patient Zero refuses to eat today. Dr. Russell insists the baby is not distressed and that we should wait before force-feeding, but I cannot take any risks.
I am growing increasingly concerned regarding Dr. Russell’s judgment.
He repeatedly refers to Patient Zero by her name, Isabel, humanizing her.
His recent recommendations focus too heavily on her comfort rather than the success of our project.
While I am certain he understands what is at stake, and what Arca can achieve if we succeed, I cannot ignore his behavior.
His eyes linger on her too long. If he does not fall in line soon, I will have him replaced with a more detached physician.
The baby is due any day. We cannot afford any mistakes.
“Isabel…” I breathed, the name barely leaving my throat as tears streamed down my cheeks.
“Considering your father told you your mother's name was Isabel, and Patient Zero was due approximately around your birth date, it is highly likely that Patient Zero is your mother,” Cade said quietly. He pointed to her swollen belly. “And this… is you.”
Something inside me splintered.
I drifted, disassociating, slipping outside my body as Cade kept talking. His voice blurred. My thoughts twisted and spiraled.
Who was I?
The daughter of an Arca experiment?
How did my father fit into any of this?
A sob tore from my throat.
Warm, muscular arms wrapped around me, pulling me against a broad chest. Killian. His purr rumbled through me, steady and grounding, and I closed my eyes, letting myself lean into him.
“I guess you and I are more alike than I thought, big guy,” I whispered, looking up at him with wet eyes.
He cocked his head, confused.
I clarified through shaky breaths. “Neither of us really knows where we came from. Who our mothers were. I thought I did, but…” My voice broke. Another sob ripped out of me, and I couldn’t speak anymore.
Killian rose without a word, lifting me effortlessly into his arms and carrying me out of the room.
I knew Cade had more information. I knew there were more answers buried in Melker’s journal. But I couldn’t process any of it. Not yet.
Killian sensed that.
He carried me into his room and set me gently on the bed, curling his body around me like a shield as I folded into myself.
In the doorway, Ryker appeared.
“You okay, Rowan?” he asked, all traces of humor gone, replaced with genuine concern.
“No,” I choked, fresh tears falling.
Ryker stepped inside.
Killian growled immediately, low and territorial. “Get out.”
I turned, pressing a hand to Killian’s chest. “Please, Killian. I need him. I need you both.”
His jaw flexed, at war with his instincts and my needs, before he let out a long, rough sigh. “Fine.”
Ryker slipped onto the other side of me. They cocooned me between them, both purring softly, like two massive beasts trying to soothe a wounded thing. And I lay there, tears falling, my mind spinning with questions and truths too heavy to hold alone.
Who was I?