Chapter 31
MAEVE
There’s no point crying any longer. Or screaming.
My grandfather doesn’t care about me. Doesn’t love me. Never has.
Caleb remains unconscious, his head hanging between his raised arms. Blood and saliva drip from his mouth onto his bare chest, and the lingering scent of burning flesh singes my nostrils like a stain. How he’s hanging on is beyond me. I hope Asher is in there somewhere. He wouldn’t abandon us. Would he?
My muscles contract, and I rock back and forth in my chair, my gaze fixed on Caleb’s broken body.
I’m the monster, the reason he’s is in this mess. Bethany was never out there, buried beneath the rot that is Thornhaven Orphanage. She’s been inside me all along, whispering to me, pushing me to do unspeakable things. Things I would never do on my own.
Or maybe that’s just what James wants me to believe. Maybe the voice in my head, the weight on my chest, isn’t Bethany at all. Maybe it’s James whispering in my ear until I can’t tell where his madness ends and mine begins.
Perhaps it’s hereditary, a life sentence, and I’m destined for an existence of ruin just like him. I should have pieced together sooner. Exposed them when I had the chance. Now, I don’t know if I’ll get another one.
“Caleb.” My voice barely rises above a whisper, his name catching in my dry throat.
My lips crack with the movement, a reminder of how long it’s been since I’ve had any water. Any food. My tongue is thick and useless in my mouth, my head swimming every time I blink too hard. The air feels thinner than it should, like this place is siphoning the life right out of me.
Some may call it punishment for what I’ve done, but I prefer to call it justice.
A single, flickering bulb swings above me, casting long, warped shadows across the concrete. Every creak of the chain, every footstep, sounds like a gunshot in the silence.
This place doesn’t just trap you. It infects you, eats at you until there’s nothing left but your shattered mind and your broken, bruised body.
James pushes off the wall, and saunters over to Caleb like he never left, like he’s just been waiting to take centre stage again.
He lifts Caleb’s chin with the end of a taser. Caleb’s head lulls to the side, a small groan leaving his split and bloodied lips.
Air rushes from my lungs, pressure loosening in my chest. At least he’s still here, fighting with me.
“This one is dangerous,” James says, examining Caleb’s face like a specimen under a microscope. “I thought he would have cracked by now, let out the darkness trapped inside of him. But he’s stronger than I recall.”
My bottom lip trembles, but I don’t crumble. “Let him go. Do what you want to me.” The words fall out like blood from a wound. “Caleb doesn’t deserve this.”
I don’t even know if I mean the words, or if it’s just instinct to offer myself up like a lamb to the slaughter. But if it buys him one more breath, I’ll trade all of mine.
James raises an eyebrow, tilting his head. “You think I would let a psychopath loose for you? Not a chance. I know exactly who this man is, which is why I gave him this, just to keep him unconscious a little longer.” He holds up a small syringe, now empty. “It’s only a matter of time before Asher shows himself. And I want to know how far he’ll go to save his . . . Little Shadow .”
A low growl vibrates in my throat. “You don’t get to use that name.”
Only Asher.
James smirks and removes his suit jacket, slinging it over a chair in the corner of the room. He rolls his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, the taser tucked under an arm, and runs a hand through his thinning hair.
Even in the dim of the light, it’s obvious James has been here for as long as we have, his pristine appearance now showing the cracks in his facade.
He comes towards me, slow, deliberate. “Separately, it was harder to break either of you,” he says, throwing the taser onto a small table in the centre of the room, and tugging at his tie. “But as soon as I put you together, threatened one with the other, you both showed your true nature. Asher”—he glances back at Caleb—“was fiercely protective over you. And you? You killed for him. Just like you did Dennis McCosky, Dr. Sterling. What we created really is a thing of beauty.”
“Created?” I laugh, the sound as hollow as my insides. “You created monsters and called it progress. You mutilated your own blood and called it brilliance. You’re not a visionary, James. You’re a coward.”
The old man leans in, his face inches from mine. Up this close, it’s easy to see our similarities—the dark eyes, the straight nose. But, that’s where it ends. He’s not my family, and he never will be.
“Do you even understand what you are?” He points a wrinkled finger at Caleb. “Asher takes over completely, suppressing Caleb into nothingness. But you, Maeve?” His sadistic smile widens, all teeth. “You’re whole. Awake. Watching. Bethany doesn’t bury you. She shares you. You co-exist. Two minds, one body, sharing everything. That’s not a glitch. That’s the evolution.”
My top lip curls, spasming under the effort, my body failing me. “You really think my mother would be proud of what you’ve done to your own flesh and blood?”
The words won’t change anything. But they’re all I have left.
James’s expression shifts, his mouth twisting into a scowl. “Your mother?” he says, his voice rough. “You don’t have the right to think of her, let alone speak of her. She died because of you. Remember that.”
“I knew her enough to know she’d be ashamed of you. And I hope that haunts you more than any of the bodies you buried to get here.” I spit onto the ground by his feet, a small splattering of saliva dripping onto his tan leather shoes.
A resounding smack echoes around the room, my head snapping to the side. My cheek ignites, warmth spreading from the site of the slap to the rest of my body. Tears sting my eyes as I clench my teeth and grip the arms of the chair.
I’m not going to break. I won’t give this bastard the satisfaction.
James takes a knee before me, gripping my chin, his fingers tight enough to bruise. “I will end you, do you hear me?” Each word is spoken with a calmness not congruent with their meaning.
It unsettles me more than I’d like to admit.
The man before me, the one who claims to have created me, is the one who will destroy me.
Ironic, really.
Heat crawls up my chest, and I tug at the chains again and again, my wrists raw and bleeding. “You won’t win.” The words grind out of me. “He’ll come for me. And when he does, you better be as far away from here as possible. It’ll give you a few more hours to contemplate your excruciating death.”
I spit as much venom into those words as I can muster. Yet it’s the satisfaction of what I know Asher will do to him that bleeds through.
Not that they make a difference. James looks less than amused as he stares at me, his cold, dark eyes void of any emotion.
“My dear Maeve. How will he come for you when there’s nothing left of who you are?” He snaps his fingers, gaining the attention of a guard standing in a shadowed corner. “Time to strip her down to the bone. Bring it in.”
Bring wh-what in?
My heart thumps against my ribcage, and a coldness I’ve only ever experienced in this place creeps over my skin.
The guard nods once and vanishes down the hall, his footsteps fading into the dark. Moments later, they return, heavier this time, accompanied by something else—the low groan of wheels scraping against concrete. He reappears, wheeling in a wooden box—almost coffin-like—on a gurney. He places it in the centre of the room and steps back, linking his hands together. A cruel smile lifts the corners of his lips, like he’s privy to something I’m not.
I glance at the box, swallowing hard, then back up to him.
“Ready for your little nap?” His voice is rough around the edges, but filled with the kind of coldness you only hear in horror movies.
And in real life. My life.
But I’m not going down without a fight. With everything I have, I aim for his crotch and slam the sole of my foot into his delicate parts. A guttural cry echoes around the room, his hands flying to cover himself from further assault.
“You fucking bitch.”
A fist collides with the centre of my face.
My head snaps back, my vision blurring. A laugh bubbles up inside me, and I spit my bloodied saliva at him, only it misses, dropping onto the concrete by my feet.
He rears his fist back a second time, only James puts a hand up.
“Enough!” The old man glares at his woman-beating henchman, and the man nods once, clenching his jaw.
I hope his fucking dick is broken for the rest of his pathetic life. He won’t be making any clones of himself that way.
On James’s word, the two guards close in on me, while he steps back and watches on with quiet amusement. The men pin my arms down and unlock the cuffs from the chains attached to the chair, hauling me to my feet. I thrash against their grip, my feet scrabbling for purchase on the cold concrete floor as they drag me toward the box.
Please no. No, no, no. I can’t go in there.
“Caleb!” My voice cracks, my throat closing. “Caleb, please wake up.” A sob escapes me. “Asher . . . please,” I scream. “Don’t let them put me in there.” My chest locks up. Not again. Not in there. Not like this. “Please. Please don’t.” My gaze darts between James and his guards. None of them blink an eye. “I’ll be good this time. I swear.”
James circles the wooden box, running a finger over the rough surface. “Begging will get you nowhere, granddaughter.”
Somewhere deep inside, something stirs. A whisper, cold and insistent. “Don’t let them break you, my sweet Maeve. I’m right here.”
“No! Please, don’t do this!” My voice echoes off the bare walls. “Caleb! Asher! Wake up!”
Caleb remains motionless, his chin resting on his chest, his breathing shallow but even. Whatever drug they’ve given him has rendered him completely helpless.
Tears stream down my face, my body a weak shell of what it once was. Before this. Before everything.
There will be no last-minute rescue, no miraculous escape.
I’m going to die in here. Alone. Dirty. Petrified.
“This box,” James says, circling me, “has a way of peeling back the layers of your mind. And soon enough, you’ll stop fighting, Maeve. What’s left will be exactly what I need.”
The men lift me like I weigh nothing, like I’m already half-dead, and lower me into the box. The smell of musty wood and old leather assaults my nostrils.
I gasp, choking on the stale air as panic gnaws at the back of my throat. The space is barely big enough for me to lie flat, its rough interior scraping against my skin as I writhe against it.
“Caleb!” I cry out one last time, my voice breaking. “Asher, wake up!” My desperation curls like barbed wire inside me.
Again, no response. Just the sound of my own ragged breathing echoing in the confined space.
The lid lowers, the darkness creeping in, wrapping around my throat. I catch one last glimpse of the dim room—Caleb’s slumped form, the faded paint, the rusted chains—just as the light is swallowed.
Darkness engulfs me, absolute. The sides press in, the air thickening with each panicked breath. My heart pounds so violently I fear it might burst. Silence stretches, broken only by the throb of my pulse.
Footsteps retreat.
A door slams shut.
Then . . . nothing.
They’ve left me here.
Alone.
Buried alive in my mind.
And no-one’s coming. Not Caleb. Not Asher. There’s no-one else who loves me, who would even know I’m missing. It’s like Bethany all over again, but this time, no-one will look for me or ask questions.
Eventually, I’ll be just another rotting corpse, in a rotting box, buried alongside all the other bodies my grandfather sacrificed in the name of science.
Time dissolves. My muscles cramp, screaming for the relief I can’t give them.
No room to move.
No air.
No thought.
Just the gnawing emptiness closing in.
I squeeze my eyes shut, but the shadows creep beneath my eyelids—contorted faces, clawing hands. Sweat trickles down my spine, each droplet a crawling insect against my skin.
Focus, Maeve. Focus.
I suck in a shaky breath and blow it out to the count of five. I repeat. Again. Again. But it doesn’t work. The more I attempt to manipulate my mind, the more reality sinks into my bones.
A nightmare, I can’t escape.
The wood creaks and groans as if it might splinter at any second. I imagine the walls giving way, collapsing inward to crush me in an ultimate release.
But there is no release, no respite from this torment. Even death would be merciful. Something I could beg for, but it’d be slow, a painful drawn-out experience. My mind would surely shatter before my body did, if it hasn’t already.
My throat constricts, raw from screaming. My voice gives out. Small whimpers escape, pitiful sounds swallowed by the endless silence. Tears leach from my eyes and streak down the side of my face.
This is the end.
Maybe I deserve it. The horrible things I’ve done over the past couple months, things I never would have imagined, play on repeat. Even so, I can’t feel the guilt I should. The blood on my hands was earned, repayment for the blood they spilled.
Still, that will never be enough.
Nothing will ever give me back my childhood. My own flesh and blood betrayed me, left me in a prison made to look like a sanctuary for unwanted children. All in the name of revenge for the perfect daughter he lost to a crippling mental illness no-one could ever have predicted. He made her worse, then just like that, I became a lab rat, a human guinea pig.
“Caleb,” I whisper, palming the underside of the lid. “Asher.”
No answer.
Only the dark.
“I’m here, Maeve.” A voice, soft and low brushes against the inside of my skull.
Familiar. Not Caleb. Not Asher.
My breath stutters. My chest seizes.
That voice.
“Bethany?” I breathe, barely audible. “Is that you?”
Silence.
Of course. Why would she answer? I buried her. Made her carry my pain because I couldn’t.
I claw at the walls, splinters biting into my skin and burying under my fingernails.
My head spins, thoughts fracturing and scattering like shards of broken glass. I can’t focus, can’t think straight. There’s not enough air.
I’m suffocating, drowning in this wooden coffin. My limbs flail, desperate for space, for freedom. But there’s nowhere to go, no escape from this claustrophobic hell.
My chest heaves faster and faster, each breath more frantic than the last. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision, reality blurring into a nightmarish haze.
“No, no, no.” I fight against the encroaching darkness.
It’s a losing battle.
My lungs scream for oxygen they can’t get.
The panic doesn’t just swallow me. It pulls me under, breath by breath, until I forget I ever knew the surface.
“Hold on, my sweet Maeve,” the voice whispers, caring and familiar. “He’s coming to free us.”
He’s coming? I let my body sink further against the splintered wood.
“He’s coming,” I murmur, a small smile sneaking onto my lips. “Bethany, did you hear? He’s coming.”