Chapter 29
MAEVE
“Maeve!” A deep voice breaks through the fog, yanking me out of the darkness, and into . . . more darkness.
I blink rapidly, the movement like sandpaper against my eyeballs. With each ragged breath, my brain pounds against the inside of my skull, every beat like a hammer striking bone.
The scent of damp concrete and rust fills my lungs, and a rush of acid burns its way up into my throat.
The shadow of a figure forms in the dark beside me. A light flickers on in the top corner of the room, like it’s just now realising it’s supposed to be keeping watch.
I squint, my eyes adjusting to the dim orange glow. “Asher?” The word sticks to the roof of my mouth.
“No.” He shakes his head, linking his fingers through mine. “It’s Caleb.”
With a squeeze of his hand, I push myself into a sitting position, my back against the wall, the cold concrete floor biting into my skin.
I rub at my dry eyes with the back of my hand. “Where are we?”
Caleb scans the room, jaw tight, his body hunched as if bracing for an unseen blow. “We’re in the orphanage,” he says quietly, his voice hollow. “West Ward.”
West Ward? That’s not possible.
“What? How can you tell?” I struggle to my feet, swaying against the dizziness that overtakes me, and make my way around the cold, concrete room.
Seconds pass, my mind conjuring up all sorts of possibilities. None of them good. It’s impenetrable. No-one to hear us scream.
Caleb points to the far wall. The words West Ward are barely visible in faded black paint. But they’re unmistakable, like a heartbeat, or the creak of a floorboard in the middle of the night when you’re supposed to be alone.
My blood turns to ice in my veins, splintering my insides. My hand flies to my mouth, my entire body on the verge of collapse.
West Ward. It’s true. We’re back to where it all started. Only this time, will we make it out of here with oxygen in our lungs?
The familiarity of the room tugs at something deep within my chest. The smell of dampness, of despair, clings to the walls, even after all these years. I’ve been here before; I just don’t remember it. It’s more like a feeling, a knowing. A haunting.
I shake my head, swallowing the sob clawing up my throat. Rusted chains hang limply from iron loops embedded in the walls, the weight of memory pressing in until I can barely breathe.
My feet carry me around the room, and I slam my hand against the large metal door. The hinges moan, but the door remains solid beneath my palm.
“You thought I was Asher,” Caleb mutters, the words flat. “Why?”
“What?” I glance over my shoulder.
Caleb lifts a shoulder, his elbows resting against his bent knees. His focus is purely on me. Not accusing, just blank, devoid of all the warmth I’m used to seeing in those eyes.
This isn’t the time for an argument, but he’s here because of what Asher and I did. The least I can do is give him an explanation.
Sighing, I move towards him, twisting my hands in front of me. “Asher, he was—I chased after him. The men . . .” I rub my forehead, but the memories won’t come fast enough. Neither will my words. “Four of them, I think. They came out of nowhere.” My fingers brush over a sore spot just above my right eyebrow. I wince at the sting. “That’s all I remember.”
I can’t tell him I followed Asher to a run-down club and found him attempting to . . . what? What exactly was Asher doing? It doesn’t even matter. Look where we are. Honesty isn’t going to magic us out of here.
Caleb nods, and continues to stare at the space, his expression distant, almost haunted, as though he hasn’t heard my words at all.
Shit.
I drop to my knees in front of him. Pain shoots up my thighs, but I embrace it, letting it fester with all the other open wounds I’ve never stitched back together. Caleb is my priority right now.
“Hey,” I say, cupping his cheeks, brushing my thumbs over his stubbled jaw. “We’ll get out of this. I promise.”
A promise I’m not sure I can keep.
Silence. It’s all I get in response. He’s retreating, the memories pulling him under. I tighten my hold, grounding myself in the hope I can bring him back.
He’s all I’ve got. I can’t lose him now. Not after everything we’ve been through.
But what if this is too much? What if . . .
I squeeze my eyes shut.
My fault. My mess. And now we’re back in this fucking place.
A metallic creak from somewhere down the hall snaps us both to attention. I fall onto my bum beside Caleb, and glue myself to his side.
Someone else is here.
Footsteps echo down the hallway—more than one set—growing louder with every passing second.
Tears sting the back of my eyes. I grip Caleb’s hand. If I hold on to him long enough, maybe everything else will disappear, and I’ll wake up in his arms, in his bed.
Warm.
Safe.
Another latch clicks, this time closer. Right in front of us. The heavy door creaks open, and a man steps inside—tall, lean, and polished to a shine. It’s obvious he doesn’t belong here. Two men flank him, their bulk a silent warning.
A coldness grips my insides, freezing my bones, my veins, my flesh.
Those eyes. Cold. Assessing. And sharp enough to cut through stone.
He has nothing on Asher. Yet, my fear is palpable, a loose wire dangling above wet concrete.
The man surveys us with a practiced smile, his polished shoes clicking against the concrete with each step, bringing him further into the room.
Click.
Click.
Click.
“Well, well,” he says, his voice smooth, almost caring. “If it isn’t our little vigilantes.”
Caleb stiffens beside me, his grip on my hand tightening. “Who the fuck are you?” he spits out, his voice strong, despite the tremble of his body.
“How rude of me.” He presses a hand to his chest, smiling as if humouring a small child. “I’m James Lockhart. Maeve’s grandfather.”
All the air whooshes from my lungs in a rush, choking me.
Him .
Older. Greyer. But still just as unhinged.
My grandfather. The words taste bitter on my tongue, and I never spoke them. I can’t believe his blood runs through my veins.
“You bastard,” I say through gritted teeth. “Let us go.”
James tilts his head, narrowing his eyes. His smile never falters. With a wave of his hand, one guard flicks on the lights above us, just like a trained monkey, leaving us bathed in a bright white glow.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he says. “You two”—he gestures between us with a manicured hand—“have been making quite a mess of things.”
He squats in front of us, fixing his focus on me. Caleb instinctively shields me with an arm across my chest.
My pulse ricochets beneath my skin, my fight or flight senses kicking into overdrive.
His eyes . . . they’re a reflection I never wanted to see.
“You’re fucking sick,” I say, spitting the words out. “Sick.”
He’ll never be anything but a parasite to me. A leach on society.
James runs the back of his knuckles down my cheek, his touch almost reverent, like he’s memorising every detail of my face. My entire body locks up, and I rear back as far as the wall behind me will allow—not far enough.
“Oh, my dear Maeve,” James murmurs, his eyes dancing with a mixture of amusement and something darker. Much darker. “You remind me so much of your beautiful mother. It’s such a shame she’s not here to witness what you’ve become.”
Caleb slaps his hand away. “Don’t you fucking touch her.” With each ragged breath, his body vibrates, an undercurrent of something unnatural simmering just below the surface.
Asher?
No. It’s different. There’s no coldness with Caleb.
Just white-hot rage.
James claps, the slow rhythmic repetition bouncing off the concrete walls. “Well, aren’t you two just the perfect example of pathetic. You think it’s love you feel for one another?” He raises an eyebrow, clicking his tongue. “No, no. It’s so much deeper than that. The two weakest halves of yourselves, yet you still fight for each other. It seems we underestimated your bond.”
Caleb wraps an arm around my shoulders, steadying me. His touch is grounding, even though his fear is circling around him like a noose.
“I don’t understand,” I say, my mind reeling. “Why did you leave me in this place to rot?” The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. “You knew exactly what was going on in here.”
“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head about that just yet, Maeve.” James stands and smooths out his white dress shirt. “You’ll understand soon enough.”
He steps away, his expensive shoes retreating. The two bodyguards flanking him shift slightly, their hands hovering near, what I assume, are concealed weapons.
A small, wistful smile forms on James’s lips, his eyes growing distant. Hateful. “Why would I care for the creature who took my daughter from me?”
The words slice through my chest, leaving something cracked and hollow where my heart used to be. “She killed herself.”
She left me alone. Left me to fend for myself, even knowing full well what her father was capable of.
James chuckles, the sound devoid of warmth. “Evelyn was brilliant. A mind like hers could’ve reshaped the world. But you drained her, Maeve. You hollowed her out.”
“You think that’s my fault?”
It’s not even a question. It’s a wound that’ll never heal.
James paces, his movements slow and deliberate, like a man unburdened by time, or a conscience. “Postpartum psychosis, they called it. But labels are easy. The truth is harder.”
I choke on a sob, shaking my head, the weight of his accusation crushing me.
Caleb pulls me tighter against his side, as though he can hold me together by force alone. “It’s okay,” he whispers against my temple. “I’ve got you.”
James’s gaze sharpens on me. “You were the catalyst. And I had a choice. Let you rot here or turn you into something useful.”
I let out a broken laugh. “Useful? You left me to die.”
“No.” His tone turns almost loving. “I made you special.” He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a small, silver device. It gleams in the stale light. “This,” he says, like it’s sacred, “was meant to save her. Realign her mind. Bring back the Evelyn I knew before you wrecked her.”
My curiosity has me leaning forward, despite myself. “What is it?”
It looks like something out of a science fiction movie. Yet, I’m living in a horror movie, and I’ve made Caleb watch right alongside me.
“It’s a neural harmoniser.” He strokes the metal casing, a sadness crossing his features, almost as though he truly feels such an emotion. “A marvel. It could have healed her. Instead, it amplified everything dark inside her.”
“The fuck?” Caleb mutters, shifting beside me. He presses his lips to my ear. “Do you believe this bullshit?”
Harmoniser. The word splinters in my throat, its jagged edges making it hard to swallow.
Fragments of memory flicker—pain, fear, a voice calling my name.
My mother?
“You left me here for this?”
James nods, almost fond. “You and Caleb, two broken little things. You killed your parents. Perfect subjects.”
“You really are a sick fuck.” Caleb’s body goes rigid, his breathing speeding up. “My parents destroyed each other. Besides, Maeve and I didn’t even know each other back then.”
James lifts a brow, taking his time. “No? You don’t remember because we made you forget.” He lets the silence linger like a knife against skin. “You two were extraordinary together.” His smile turns cruel. “Asher may have put a chink in the chain by setting this place on fire, but hindsight’s a valuable thing.”
The words settle like ash in my lungs, thick and choking. They taste too much like the truth. Even the smell lingers, blackened objects disintegrated into nothing but charcoal. Are the images flashing through my mind, memories? Or are they a version I think I remember?
“You think we’d let you run free?” James straightens his cuffs, voice softening like he’s delivering a bedtime story. “No. We spent years perfecting the program. All it needed was time. You two would always find each other again.”
That word. Program.
James spreads his arms like a man delivering a sermon. He’s no saviour, though. “Imagine it, Maeve. An army, fearless, obedient, without morality. Your mind, your darkness, it’s the key.”
Caleb huffs out a breathless laugh. “Jesus Christ,” he says, shaking his head. “You really do have a god complex. You won’t get away with this. There’ll be people searching for us.”
What he doesn’t say is no-one will be looking for me. Him? Yes, he has people who adore him. All I’ve got is Caleb and Asher, and well, they’re right here with me.
Or, at least one of them is. Can Asher hear us? Does he know what’s happening?
“Oh, but I already have.” James’s voice hardens, a vein in his temple pulsing. “We almost had it perfected until you.” He snaps his focus to Caleb, jaw tight. “You and that beautiful creature inside you. We created Asher to be the perfect soldier. We didn’t predict he’d grow teeth of his own.”
I clamp my mouth shut. I can see it all too clearly.
A sea of blank faces, stripped of humanity.
Like robots.
Only, that’s not Asher. He might be cold, calculated. Psychopathic. But he feels. He hurts. I’ve seen it. But, more importantly, he definitely can’t be controlled.
James is less human than him.
“You’re insane,” Caleb says, spitting onto the floor by James’s tan leather shoes.
James laughs, the sound cold and brittle. “Insanity is relative, my children. To the visionaries, it’s merely the first step towards greatness.” He gestures towards Caleb. “You house a living, breathing psychopath in your mind. I’ve witnessed his cruelty, and it’s a thing of beauty. The way he sliced and diced, and didn’t even blink an eye.”
I flinch. “You knew . . . about Asher?”
“We didn’t just know, Maeve. We orchestrated it. Made sure no-one would come looking. Margaret Ashford wanted to confess. So, we sent her and her dog to Caleb. Asher did what he was made to do.”
My breath catches. “And the others?”
He waves a hand, as if the deaths mean nothing. “Collateral damage. Except one.” He runs his tongue over his top teeth, his upper lip spasming. “The one who got away. We made sure she knew just how disappointed we were in her. Her son? You might remember him, Maeve. Such a shame, really.”
“Ethan.” My hand flies to my mouth. “What did you do to him?”
James nods once. “You’ve always played your part beautifully, child. Whether or not you knew it. All we had to do was set it in motion, pay the right people to keep their mouths shut, or turn a blind eye, and you two did the rest. We can’t afford to have loose ends.”
My bottom lip trembles. “You killed him? Why?”
A smile stretches across James’s weathered face, and he tilts his head. “Why not? I’m a very wealthy man, Maeve. I didn’t get to be that way without a little sacrifice. He knew too much.”
“You sonofabitch.” Caleb lunges forward, his fists clenched and ready to strike.
James chuckles and steps back, snapping his fingers.
Before I can react, a guard slams Caleb into the wall. The crack of bone echoes, and he collapses with a groan, his body limp against the concrete floor.
“Caleb!” I crawl toward him, my hands and knees scraping over the rough surface, but James yanks me back by the hair, dragging me to my feet.
I cry out, grabbing at the source of pain. It’s useless. I’m useless.
“Now, now.” James’s breath is hot and stale against my ear, as though the very air he breathes petrifies inside his body. “You’ll thank me for this one day, Maeve. You’ll see the beauty in what we’re creating.”
I thrash against him, but his grip remains vice-like. My heartbeat thunders in my ears, drowning out the sound of my own ragged breathing.
A piercing sting at my neck jolts me upright. My muscles instantly weaken, and I go limp in James’s arms.
The darkness creeps in, my eyelids slamming shut to the vision of Caleb’s crumpled body, unmoving on the cold concrete floor.