Chapter Twenty-Eight
Caius
H e knows we’re here.
Theo shoots me a nervous look as he pulls into the garage under the lodge. I’m tense, coiled tight like a spring as we pass Dad’s expensive cars he’s collected over the years. We pull into an empty spot next to the Maserati.
I have a flash of a memory.
Me and Romy.
Sliding my dick against her pussy.
The overwhelming urge to push inside her, but knowing I wouldn’t. It was all for a show. To protect her from Solomon’s twisted proclivities.
She was my responsibility back then—a mess to clean up. Now she’s my everything.
Closing this final chapter is necessary. Confronting Dad and ending his lifetime of terror is the only way for me and my family to safely move on.
Our plan is to divide and conquer. Theo will go to the main office at the lodge to pull what he can off the servers in there. I’ll be the one to have a little chat with Dad.
We exit the vehicle and make our way to the door. It’s been left ajar. He’s waiting.
“You sure you want to face him alone?” Theo asks, voice low as we enter the elevator. Surprisingly, his passcode still works. “I can go with you. This is something we can do together.”
I don’t want to tell my baby brother that, no, it’s truly not. He may be helping us with this whole thing, most likely to save his own ass or some sense of misplaced guilt, but his betrayal cut too deep. There’s no repairing it. Once this is over, I want him gone.
“I can handle the old man,” I mutter. “Just get the shit Koyn wants and get out.”
Before coming here, we raided the lab’s computers. Dad’s reign is over. I just have to make it official.
Theo gets off on the second floor and I head up to the penthouse, learning that my passcode still works as well. If he didn’t want us here, he’d have changed them. With each lingering second, anxiety buzzes through my veins like I’m being electrocuted. I worry I’m walking into a trap.
I touch the Glock over my shirt that’s holstered in my belt. I’ve gone from being a suit-wearing, arrogant prick to some sort of quasi-biker outlaw who prefers jeans and work boots. At least Romy seems to like my new style.
Dad would be so disappointed.
The lobby area of his penthouse is quiet, clean, and empty of people. Typically, he has staff in the background cleaning or cooking. They’re suspiciously absent.
He’s ready for me.
I’m sure the second we set foot in the lab, he was alerted. He knows I’m coming for him. We’ve been successfully taking out all the people in his shitty world. He’s the last one who matters.
Will I kill him?
Can I kill him?
These are things I uttered aloud in the dead of night, needing Romy to help me understand and work through them.
She doesn’t want me to.
Not because she cares for him. Quite the opposite. She’s worried about what it’ll do to me.
Maybe he deserves jail time like her family. Knowing him, though, he’ll find a way to psyop the whole damn prison and run his operation from behind bars.
Nah, this has to end tonight.
My boots thud softly on the marble floors as I make my way down a hallway of his. I don’t ever go into his bedroom, but I do now. It’s sparsely decorated aside from a few framed pictures. The one on his dresser is of the four of us. Me, face emotionless as I stare at the camera, Dad’s usual smirk, Theo’s naivety shining in his eyes, and Gareth’s charming grin.
What secrets lurk beneath each of those men…
I remember taking that picture. It was before Romy, before Kaitlyn, before Emma. Just the four of us. Life was almost simple back then when I was playing by Dad’s rules and doing his bidding.
How many lives did I ruin for the sake of CUP and my father?
Too many.
Guilt is an ugly beast who rears its head often. Especially when I think about my girls or LuLu. I could have told my father no or put him in his place whenever he did his fucked-up shit. Instead, I played along, biding my time, all the while hoping to find Calista, morals be damned.
He manipulated you. Fucked with your mind. You weren’t you, Caius.
Romy is better than any therapist. She gives it to me straight. Doesn’t erase what I did but reminds me I was a creation by my father and when I shed that skin, I could become the man I am today.
Father, loving partner, someone who cares about the innocent.
Where is my dad?
The bathroom is empty of the man who ruined my mind and life. It’s as if he gave us the slip. I really thought he’d face me man to man.
There’s another picture on a table by the window in his room. This one is of the two of us, the day he brought me home. The teenager in the picture is lost, mentally broken, and so fucking sad.
He took advantage of that boy.
Used and manipulated him for his own gain.
I turn the photo facedown on the tabletop and then something catches my eye. His window has a direct view to my home. The window you can see from this vantage point is the one behind my desk in my office.
How many times did this man watch me, waiting for me to crack so he could seep his evil inside of me?
“Unbelievable.”
“You know I like having my eye on my boys, Son.”
The sharp prick on my neck follows my father’s words. I whirl around to find him standing there, a dripping syringe in his hand.
“What did you do?” I snarl, touching my neck.
A wave of dizziness washes over me and I stumble. I’m vaguely aware of Dad easing me into a rolling desk chair. My head falls back and I stare at the ceiling until my eyes drift closed.
And then we start moving.
Riiiiing.
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.
I wake to the maddening sound of a telephone ringing. Not a cell phone but one of those obnoxious landline ones. Rubbing at my eyes, I sit up in bed, taking in my surroundings.
A trickle of fear courses through me.
I know this room.
To be sure, I slide out of bed, swaying from the drugs still in my system, and head for the curtains. I grab hold of the dark material and yank, sending the rod and curtain clattering to the floor.
No window.
Just a wall.
I’ve been here before. My early days here come rushing in. The terror of being trapped. The acceptance of living with a monster.
I’m not a kid anymore, though.
I refuse to be his mindfucked toy any longer.
The phone continues its incessant ringing. Because I want it to stop, I pick it up and hold it to my ear.
“Caius?” a young female voice whimpers.
I know the voice. My sister? I don’t have a sister.
“Who is this?” I demand.
She sobs. “It’s me. Calista.”
“This isn’t real,” I bark out. “You’re not real.”
I slam the phone down and it immediately rings again. “What?”
“Please,” she begs. “Help me.”
“I know what you’re doing, Dad. I built that fucking program, remember? It’s AI.”
“I’m real,” she whimpers.
“Liar.”
There’s a pause as if she’s taking orders from someone. Or Dad is just fucking with me. My head is too foggy for any of this to make sense.
“Send them away,” she tells me. “If you send them away and just talk to him, he will let me live.”
The psychological games he plays are so fucked up.
They’re so real.
“He took me from my parents. They’re probably so worried.”
“Mom and Dad are dead, remember? And they’re mine, not yours. You’re a fucking figment of my imagination.”
“No,” she croaks out. “I’m real.”
The ache in her voice sounds genuine. When I designed that program to mimic a voice in real time, I didn’t expect it to sound so lifelike. It’s only fair I’m being mentally attacked by my own creation.
I hang up the phone and rush over to the door. It’s bolted shut and not going anywhere.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I have to get out of here.
Will Theo figure out I’m in trouble and come after me? Or is he in on Dad’s shit?
I’ll never be able to trust Theo if we get out of here alive.
Think, Caius.
I race back over to the phone, wishing I had Romy’s photographic memory. Dad has taken both my phone and my weapon. Maybe I can call for the police if this phone hasn’t been fucked with to prevent me from doing it.
Before I can pick it up, it rings again, the sound loud and maddening.
“What do you want from me?”
“Come find me,” she says. “Save me.”
I rub at my temple, furious that he’s getting inside my head. The voice is that of my sister. It’s real. Right?
No.
Fuck.
“Let me out, Dad. Please. We’ll talk this over like damn adults. Taking me prisoner and doing your CUP shit on me won’t work this time.” I hang up the phone again, so forcefully it makes my ears hurt from the sound.
I’m thankful Bermuda was able to hack into the technology of the Stem Lock shit at least, freeing me, Romy, Kaitlyn, and LuLu. One day I’ll find a surgeon to remove the disabled devices from our bodies.
Now Dad has to rely on the good old-fashioned mind control he’s perfected over the years.
I’m not one of his soldiers or vulnerable patients wanting to better their lives by erasing who they are.
I want the fuck out of here.
I want to get back to Romy and the kids.
Think. Think. Think.
The phone starts ringing again. Because I have nothing better to do, I answer it. At least if I stay angry, it cuts through the haze and confusion.
“Let me the hell out of here,” I growl. “You know it’s only a matter of time before they come looking for me. You can’t fight them all, Dad.”
“I’m not your dad,” she says tearfully. “You have to believe me. I’m here.”
“You’re not my sister.” I clench my jaw. “If you’re real, put Dad on the phone.”
The line goes dead.
Not real.
Not fucking real.
I pace the room, but because of the drugs still in my system, I walk uneven lines and bump into furniture. I’m tired as fuck, but I know if I lie back down, I am just asking for something bad to happen. I need to stay alert and figure out an escape plan.
Last time, there was no escape.
My only escape was through Dad.
I had to bend the knee and kiss his ring. Is that what he wants? For me to go back to being his blindly loyal son?
The phone starts ringing again. I try to ignore it, but it won’t stop. Just ringing and ringing and ringing. It’s so fucking annoying. I’m half tempted to yank the cord from the wall and throw it in the trash can.
With a frustrated growl, I stalk back over to it and answer.
“You want me, Dad, fine. Let me out. We’ll talk this out like real men. Maybe there’s a future where we both get what we want.”
It’s a lie, but I have to try.
“Caius,” she sobs, sounding realer than any artificial intelligence I’ve ever heard. “Please come save me.”
“You’re not real, Calista,” I hiss. “None of this is real.”
Another sob and then she shouts, “I am LuLu!”
The line goes dead.
And, suddenly, I’m really fucking awake.