Chapter Twenty-Five
The warehouse smells like burnt coffee and electricity when we arrive.
Cam's setup sprawls across three folding tables, monitors glowing a cold blue in the pre-dawn darkness, cables snaking across the concrete floor like veins.
He doesn't look up when we enter. His injured arm moves stiffly across the keyboard as he keeps going.
“Files,” he says, holding out his good hand without missing a beat.
Sterling drops the fireproof bag on the table.
Cam unzips it with his teeth, dumping the contents across his workspace.
The photographs scatter. Maps unfold. The cream-colored Cicada folders fan out like accusations.
Lila moves to the coffee maker, her hands shaking as she pours four mugs.
She's been quiet since we left the burning manor, her usual chatter replaced by something brittle and sharp.
“How bad?” she asks, not looking at any of us.
“Bad," Cam says, his eyes scanning documents faster than should be humanly possible.
“This isn't just trafficking. This is... Fucking Christ.” He pulls up a file on the center monitor.
The screen fills with a scanned document full of medical terminology I don't understand—genetic markers, compatibility percentages, donor codes.
I lean over his shoulder, reading. The words blur together until one phrase snaps into focus, cold and clinical: Genetic Pairing Protocol - Phase One: Subject Acquisition.
“They were matching children,” I say, my voice hollow. “Based on genetics.”
“Not just matching,” Cam corrects, pulling up another document.
“Engineering.” He taps the screen, his voice dropping.
“They identified specific genetic markers in children.
Rare combinations. Then they... acquired them.
Foster systems, mostly. Sometimes, straight purchases from parents who didn't ask questions.”
Sterling moves behind me, his hand finding the small of my back—grounding, steady, a silent reminder that I’m not alone. "Acquired for what purpose?" he asks, his voice edged with fury.
Cam's jaw works for a few seconds before the words come out.
“Pairings. They brought compatible subjects together. Raised them in controlled environments.” He swallows hard.
“The Nesting House wasn't just a facility.
It was an incubator." The room goes quiet, even the hum of the monitors seems to fade.
"Show me the subject list," I say.
Cam hesitates. His eyes flick to Sterling, then back to me. "Kiera..."
"Show me." Cam hesitates, then pulls up the spreadsheet. Names scroll down the left column. Dates of acquisition. Genetic markers. Pairing assignments. I scan the list, my heart hammering against my ribs. Then I see it. A single name…my name.
Subject 001-A:
Kiera Rayne Hawthorne
DOB:
02/14/2000
Acquisition:
2007
Paired with:
[DATA CORRUPTED]
My vision tunnels. The warehouse spins. I grip the edge of the table, knuckles white.
"The pairing data is missing," Cam says, frustration bleeding into his voice.
"Someone scrubbed it. I can see that you were Subject 001-A, but your pairing's identity is completely corrupted. Could be fire damage to the original files…could be intentional deletion.”
"What about the other subjects?" Sterling asks, his voice carefully neutral.
Cam scrolls down, searching over every entry. "Some of the pairings are intact. Others are as corrupt as yours, Ki. But look..." He points to another entry further down the list.
Subject 012-B:
Sterling Ryder Wraith
DOB:
09/03/1998
Acquisition:
2007
Paired with:
Pairing terminated.
The silence that follows could crack bones. Lila sets down her coffee mug. The ceramic clinks too loudly against the metal table. "You're both in the program," she says slowly. "But we can't tell if you were paired with each other or with different subjects."
"Not just in the program," Cam says, pulling up medical files. "You were both early acquisitions in 2007. You overlap." He pulls up a facility timeline. "Both of you were at the Nesting House during the same fifteen-month window. May 2007 to August 2008."
My stomach turns violently. Sterling's hand slips from my back. He's staring at the screen as if it might combust any second. "We were there together," I whisper. "At the same time."
"Yes and no," Cam cautions, his voice careful. "I can confirm you were both in the facility. But whether you were paired subjects or just...there simultaneously, I can't tell from these files. The corruption is too extensive."
Sterling moves to the monitor and studies the data. "What are the odds?” he asks, voice low. “Two kids, both in the same program, same facility, same timeline, both with corrupted pairing data?"
"Astronomical," Cam admits. "Which suggests the corruption wasn't accidental."
"Someone deleted it on purpose," I say, the words tasting like metal. "Someone didn't want us to know if we were paired."
"Or who you were paired with," Lila adds quietly, her voice barely over a whisper.
I turn to Sterling, my voice barely holding steady. “The dreams....”
“Could have been you,” he finishes. “Or could have been another one I was paired with.”
The uncertainty sits heavily between us, thick enough to choke on.
“The pull we've always felt could be manufactured memory,” I say, my voice barely over a whisper.
“It could be genetic compatibility that the program identified long ago.” I pause, finally looking up at Sterling.
“It could be nothing more than two traumatized people recognizing their own brokenness in each other…” My throat tightens. “Or it could be real.”
“Does it matter?” Sterling asks, his voice rough, almost raw, as he steps closer.
I look at him—at the electric blue eyes that feel like home, whether I remember them or not. “I don't know.”
“The program wanted to see if genetically compatible children would bond,” he continues, voice low but sturdy. “Whether you were my assigned pair or not, we're here now. We found each other anyway.”
“Without the data, we'll never know if what we feel is genuine…or programmed,” I say, hating how small my voice sounds.
"Fucking bullshit,” Sterling says sharply, slamming his hands down on the table.
The sound cracks through the warehouse like a gunshot.
"I found you in a coffee shop. No one told me to be obsessed with you.
No handler pushed us together. Whatever the program wanted, whatever they did to us as kids…
what we chose after they erased our memories? That's real."
"Is it?" I challenge, my voice cracking despite every effort to keep it steady. "Or did they just program us well enough that we'd find each other anyway? Like homing pigeons?"
"You're not a fucking pigeon," Sterling snaps, the words rough and immediate, like he can’t stand the thought of me reducing myself to something programmed or disposable.
"Then what am I?" I demand, voice rising with all the anger that’s been building over the last few days. "What are we? How do we know any of this is choice when our entire childhoods were manipulated?"
Lila steps between us, hands raised. "Hey. Both of you. Breathe."
Cam clears his throat, the sound cutting through the irritated silence. We both turn to him. "There might be a way to find out,” he says. "The Nesting House," he says. "If the facility is still operational, they'll have the original files. The uncorrupted data. Including your pairing assignments."
"So we go there," I say, the decision hardening in my chest like steel. "We get the files. We find out the truth."
"And we get the other kids out," Sterling adds like a vow carved in stone.
Cam pulls up the spreadsheet again. Lines of subjects—children—flood the screen. "There are seventeen other active pairs still in the program at the Nesting House."
"How old?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
"Teenagers, mostly. There are six infants who were taken from foster care. The program didn't stop when you left. It evolved." He zooms in on the facility location on the main monitor. "The Nesting House is still operational. And according to these files, they're about to start Phase Three."
"What's Phase Three?" Sterling demands.
Cam's expression goes dark, his face hardening into something grim and haunted. "Reproduction."
The word hangs in the air like a curse. "They're forcing them to…" Lila can't finish the sentence.
"Not yet," Cam says quickly. "Phase Three doesn't begin until the subjects turn eighteen. But several pairs are approaching that age. The oldest turns eighteen in..." he checks the file, "three months."
I grab the edge of the table, knuckles white. "Where is it? The exact location."
Cam pulls up coordinates. "Mountain region. Two hours north. Heavily secured—private security, cameras, the works. It's listed as a therapeutic boarding school for at-risk youth."
"Of course it is," Sterling mutters, the words dripping with disgust.
I turn to face them all. Lila, with her ruined makeup and shaking hands. Cam, with his injured arm and his screens full of horrors. Sterling, with his blue eyes that might or might not remember me from fifteen months in hell. "We go tonight," I say.
"Kiera, we need to plan," Cam starts.
"Tonight," I repeat. "We have the maps. We have the security protocols from Wade's files. And we have seventeen children who are being held in that place, being prepared for the same thing that was done to us."
"It's a fortress," Cam argues, frustration bleeding into his voice. "Private security. Guard rotations. Cameras on every entrance. We'd need a team. Equipment. Time to…"
"We have until sunset," I cut him off. "That's fourteen hours to plan a raid.
You're the best hacker I know. Sterling's a professional ghost. Lila can rig charges in her sleep.
And me?" I smile, sharp and cold. "I just killed my father and burned down my childhood home.
A boarding school in the mountains is just the encore. "