Chapter 17
MAEVE
The air in the living room is heavy, thick with the anxiety oozing from my pores. Every breath feels weighted, my pulse a relentless thud in my ears as I open folder after folder.
The soft hum of the laptop wraps around me like a cocoon, keeping me focused, even as the grandfather clock in the corner ticks the seconds away. It does nothing to dull the jagged edges of the truth staring back at me. Each file on Ethan’s USB stick is darker and more damning than the last.
Financial reports. News articles. Corporate filings.
Corruption at its finest.
Someone went to a lot of effort to bury this. And now it’s sitting in my lap, wide open, daring me to pick apart the bones.
Holloway will have a conniption if he finds out the details of my plan. He wants me to save face for Pinnacle Corporation. There’s no way that’s happening now.
Hours have passed. No-one followed us home as far as I can tell. The security cameras offer a small, pathetic sense of safety, but it doesn’t settle the unease setting up in my chest.
It’s possible Ethan is just scared of his own shadow. Still, something—or someone—frightened him enough back at the cafe for him to bolt. I don’t think I’ll ever erase the look on his face. Pure terror. The kind that doesn’t come from paranoia, but from seeing the monster up close. It’s the only way to describe it.
Yet, why don’t I feel that same sense of impending danger? Maybe I’m immune.
Yawning, I rub at my burning eyes and sink against the front of the couch cushions, resting the back of my head against Caleb’s thigh.
He passed out an hour ago, his breathing soft and even. Not that I blame him. He hasn’t left my side. Even now, he’s still here. He insisted on staying up with me, but exhaustion won.
I roll my head to the side, a small smile on my lips. His body is slack, hand resting on his stomach. His warmth against my cheek grounds me, tethering me to something real.
How did I ever go through life without this man? It’s like finding something I lost years ago.
I shake my head and pull myself onto my knees, focusing again on the document on my laptop. When I’ve picked apart every inch of these files, then maybe, just maybe, I can admit to myself that my growing feelings for Caleb are real. And that, possibly, he feels the same way.
I scroll down, scanning page after page, each word another piece of the puzzle falling into place. I’m yet to come across anything that will lead me to answers about Bethany, but each file is a minefield of information, so I’ll keep going until there’s nothing more to uncover.
One file, in particular, catches my eye.
Funding Agreement - Pinnacle Corporation & Thornhaven Orphanage.
How much did it cost to keep the abuse running? Not that it matters. No amount of money will ever be enough to conceal everything. Eventually, the truth will come out. I just hope I can be the one to expose them before they get to me.
I click on the file, and the document flashes open. I scan the first few lines.
The air thickens around me and my breath catches in my throat.
Those bastards. It’s just like Ethan said. Pinnacle had their grubby little hands in every piece of the orphanage’s rotting pie. They owned it—still do. Hidden by shell companies and shadowy subsidiaries, Pinnacle was the puppet master pulling the strings.
Has my entire life until now been orchestrated by some unknown force, driving me to this very moment? Everything is related. Thornhaven Orphanage. Pinnacle. Me. Caleb.
Is that . . . is that why I’m here, in this mess? Someone wants me in the centre of all this, I just don’t understand why.
Is Holloway in on it? Or is he being held under the water by Pinnacle as well?
It’s too much of a coincidence to be handed two cases, both bound by a darkness only those who witnessed the horrors could know.
My throat closes. My fingers freeze on the keyboard, and I lean closer. A static prickle races down my arms, and the room closes in.
What the hell did they do?
Teddy shifts on the floor, his tail thumping once before curling in tighter. The sound is normal. Innocent. He’s completely unaware of the horror unfolding in front of me.
The next words on the screen chill me down to my bones, and I clench my fists, nails digging into my skin, drawing blood. They warp, blur, then snap into focus again.
Objective: Conduct experimental trials on underprivileged youth without guardianship (orphans preferred). Selection criteria: Subjects with low probability of public or familial inquiry.
Low probability of inquiry. Like they were picking out defective parts. Test subjects, not children.
That place wasn’t just an orphanage. It was a laboratory. A testing ground. And we were the lab rats. Only some of us never escaped.
That explains the late-night visits Ethan’s mum witnessed. I had it easy compared to what those kids must have experienced.
And the kids who never came back the same, or didn’t come back at all? What did Pinnacle do with their bodies? Did they get a proper funeral like they deserved? Or were they just dumped in a hole and left to rot all alone?
Bethany. Did she die in some sterile room, her screams muffled by the walls of Thornhaven Orphanage?
I bite down on the inside of my cheek, forcing my tears to stay put. I can’t crumble now.
Breathing deep, I read on, navigating through layers of encrypted files, my stomach churning with each revelation. Clinical trials. Gene therapy. Experimental treatments. Split-consciousness trials.
The euphemisms can’t disguise the horror beneath. Not anymore.
Another document jumps out at me, and I open it up. Rows upon rows of data—no names, just dates, outcomes.
Subject 37 - terminated .
Subject 42 - non-responsive.
The words blur as I scroll faster, desperate to outrun the images forming in my mind of what those ‘subjects’ went through.
A name leaps off the screen like a slap to my face. A name that makes my blood run cold.
Caleb Blackwood.
His name tightens in my throat, choking me.
“No,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut. “No. No, no, no.”
I must have misread it.
I risk another glance—just one eye. Then the other. His name is still there in big bold letters. Undeniable.
I should stop reading, walk away before I uncover something I can’t un-see. Something that might just break me for good.
But I can’t. This is Caleb. My Caleb. The Caleb who saved my best friend. The man who stood by me when he didn’t have to and protected me like no-one ever has in my entire life.
Holding my breath, I click on Caleb’s file. A flood of information pours across my screen.
Medical charts.
Psychological evaluations.
Video logs. It’s all here.
An image of grainy video footage pops up on the screen.
I sit back on my heels, staring at the still-shot. Do I even want to watch it? I glance over my shoulder at Caleb. Has he been lying to me about what he remembers? I guess there’s only one way to find out.
Exhaling, I hit play, even as my mind screams at me to stop.
The clip lurches to life, showcasing a young Caleb, no more than ten or eleven, strapped to a chair. His eyes are wild, darting between men in white coats as they circle him like vultures. One of them approaches with a syringe, and Caleb’s screams pierce through the tinny audio.
A sob rips through me, sharp and violent, and I cup a hand over my mouth, tears tracking down my cheeks.
He was just a child, so innocent and undeserving of this kind of torture.
Oh god, there are more, maybe dozens.
In the next one, Caleb is older, maybe twelve or thirteen. His eyes are vacant now, devoid of the fear and life they once held. A monotone voice off-screen barks commands, but Caleb doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react, doesn’t even blink.
The man leans in too close, and everything changes. So quick I almost miss it.
Caleb’s face twists, his eyes narrowing. In seconds, the man is on the ground, his neck bent at an unnatural angle. Caleb stands over him, his expression cold, calculating.
Unmoving. No remorse.
The screen goes dark, but the same off-screen voice speaks again.
“Subject 18. Caleb slash Asher Blackwood. Successful.”
Asher Blackwood?
Successful?
I scrub my hands over my face. Something, I read only moments ago tugs at my chest. My heart races as I click on files, searching for the one that’s going to confirm what I already suspect.
A document loads.
There. Split-consciousness trials.
It’s true then. The change in his personality. Him not remembering conversations, or things he’s done.
Does Caleb even know?
I clutch at the edge of the coffee table, my knuckles white.
Asher.
I shake my head, the name pulsing through my mind, a dark thread weaving its way into the tapestry of everything I thought I knew.
I wasn’t prepared for this.
The true nature of what they did to Caleb becomes clear. They didn’t just experiment on him, they shattered him. Fractured his very being into jagged, mismatched pieces. Then they stitched him back together into something . . . else.
How could he survive something like that? How could anyone?
Asher isn’t a sibling or a relative. He’s Caleb’s other half. A fractured piece of his psyche, created through years of torture and inhuman experiments.
The perfect weapon. Cold. Ruthless. Unfeeling.
I sit frozen, the image of Caleb—of Asher—killing a man with his bare hands like he was nothing now burned into my mind.
The coldness in his eyes . . . I’ve seen it before.
The night Terry attacked me. The way Caleb, or who I thought was Caleb, stared him down, his voice sharp and icy, his body radiating barely contained violence.
That wasn’t Caleb, after all.
That was Asher.
And the note, the one left with Terry’s fingers, signed A x. It wasn’t a stranger. It wasn’t some faceless monster in the shadows.
“Oh my god,” I whisper, my hands shaking.
I slam the laptop shut, and wrap my arms around my knees, rocking back and forth as though I’ll somehow conjure up the memories I know are just lodged beneath the surface.
Forward. Back.
Forward. Back.
Asher . . . he’s the one who’s been watching me, following me, manipulating me. He’s the one who knows what happened to Bethany.
Right?
If he was active during the experiments, if he was the one in control . . .
A muffled sound draws my attention, and I whip my head around. Caleb stirs on the couch, his face peaceful in sleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He has no idea his world is about to implode. Is he strong enough to handle the truth of his past?
My heart gallops, collides with my ribcage. Thump. Thump. Thump.
I glance at the USB still plugged into my laptop, the weight of its contents pressing down on me like a thousand bricks.
I need to confront him—Asher. I don’t have any other choice. If he knows the truth about what happened to Bethany, to any of the kids who went missing, I need to know.
Pinnacle, the orphanage, everyone involved will pay for what they did.
I push myself onto unsteady feet and grab a blanket from the armchair in the corner of the room.
Sniffing back my emotions, I drape it over Caleb, my focus lingering too long on the face I’ve come to rely on seeing every day. He shifts slightly, murmuring something unintelligible before settling back into sleep. My fingers linger on the edge of the blanket, hovering just above his shoulder.
I want to touch him, feel his warmth against mine again.
Maybe I should wake him. Tell him everything I found. But his name dies in my throat. How can he look so peaceful, when I know the truth? When I know what they did to him. When I know what he’s capable of.
Teddy whines softly, nudging my leg with his warm, wet nose. I crouch down, scratching behind his ears as everything I now know crashes down on me.
“What do we do, buddy?” I whisper, my voice cracking. “What the hell do we do now?”
Teddy licks my hand, his big brown eyes full of trust and unconditional love. A sharp sob escapes me before I can stop it. How can he look at me like that when I’ve failed everyone else?
The air in the room shifts. A strange, almost imperceptible change, like someone exhaling just out of reach. The hairs on my arms rise, coldness wrapping around me as though someone else has just stepped into the room. But it’s just me and Caleb.
Or at least I thought so until now.
I stare at him, so peaceful in sleep, so unaware of the danger we’re in. I can’t help the question that coils tighter inside me.
If Caleb is here with me, does that mean . . . Asher is too?