Chapter Forty-One #3
The question lands differently than she intended. Because the answer isn’t just the kids, it’s not just revenge. It’s not just taking down a program. It’s a hand over my stomach in the dark—a future I can almost imagine. “You don’t get that answer. You lost that right sixteen years ago.”
A muscle jumps in her jaw. For the first time, Evelyn looks… older. Smaller. “You’re making a mistake,” she pleads. “Whatever you think you’re building, you don’t have the infrastructure. The funding. The political cover. You’re one woman with a few allies and a warehouse.”
“One woman who isn’t afraid of you anymore,” I correct her. “Thanks to you.” I step closer until I’m within arm’s reach. She straightens like she thinks I might uncuff her. I don’t. “You wanted me to be your weapon,” I say. “You got your wish. I’m just not pointed where you want me to.”
Fear flashes in her eyes. “Kiera…”
“I’m not here for your blessing. Or your justification. I’m here to tell you this ends with me! You don’t get to hurt anyone else. Not in the name of the work. Not in the name of survival. Not in my name.”
Evelyn inhales sharply. “You’re going to kill me.” The realization hits her, knowing this is her final moment.
“Yes,” I say. “I am.”
For a second, I think she might beg. Or bargain. Or finally, fucking apologize. She doesn’t. She lifts her chin. “Make it count,” she demands.
“It already does,” I answer. Grabbing the knife from my waistband, I drag it across her throat.
Just like she was supposed to die the first time.
A red line of blood starts to trickle down her neck as her eyes stay locked to mine.
Her mouth forms the word Sunshine, but no sound comes out.
“I’m not your fucking Sunshine anymore.”
When it’s done, the room feels bigger and smaller at the same time.
I stand there long enough for my breathing to even out, then step back into the hall and pull the door shut behind me.
Sterling’s eyes search my face, reading what he needs to, and just nods.
“One down,” I say. My voice sounds wrecked in my own ears. “One more to go.”
He tips his head toward the other door. “You sure you want to go straight into round two?”
“Yes,” I reassure him. “If I stop, I might think too hard.” He doesn’t argue.
Just shifts position so he can cover this door the same way.
Dr. Reyes’s cell smells like antiseptic, sweat, and stale fear.
She’s on the chair, posture ramrod straight despite the restraints.
When the door opens, she looks up with clinical interest, like she’s been waiting for a lab result.
“Ah.” Her voice coming out like this is all a twisted game. “The favorite Subject arrives. How are we feeling today, Kiera?”
“Like not being your subject anymore.” I keep my face neutral, not showing this deranged woman a single fucking emotion.
Dr. Reyes smiles—small, sharp, and completely devoid of warmth. “You were always more than a subject. You were proof of a concept.”
“Not the compliment you think it is.”
She studies me with that physician’s eye, cataloging the same things my mother did but with less judgment and more curiosity. “You’re flushed,” she observes. “Tired. Nauseated, if the way you’re holding your shoulders is any indication. Congratulations.”
The floor tilts a fraction. “On?”
“You and Sterling.” Her voice is cheerful. “Anyone with half a brain could have predicted that outcome.”
My hand curls into a fist at my side. “What about us?”
Dr. Reyes’s smile widens. “You’re pregnant.” A dark feeling in between the beats. “Phase IV’s most interesting data point just became exponentially more valuable. Even if it wasn’t under our supervision.”
“Phase IV’s data point walked out of the lab. This is mine.”
“Is it?” She tilts her head. “You really don’t like thinking of yourself as part of a system, do you?”
Every word is a scalpel. I feel each cut. “Because I’m not part of the program. You may have had me for a little bit.” I take a step away from the door. “But you don’t get to claim this.”
Dr. Reyes leans back as far as the restraints allow, eyes gleaming. “You can kill me. You can burn facilities, reroute assets, and steal children out from under their handlers. But the fact remains: We made you. We made this. You’re just rearranging the pieces.”
An eerie calm slides over my skin like armor.
“You keep saying we,” I snicker darkly. “Like that absolves you. Like being part of a machine means you’re not responsible for where the gears cut.
” Her smile wavers. “You signed off on every procedure,” I continue.
“Every dosage increase. Every escalation. You looked at kids strapped to your tables and saw numbers. That’s not the machine, Reyes. That’s you.”
Something sharp flashes in her eyes. Offended pride. “You don’t understand the variables,” she begs for understanding. “What we were trying to prevent…”
“I don’t care. There is no math that makes what you did necessary.”
Dr. Reyes exhales through her nose, her patience running thin. “Spoken like someone who’s never had to make a hard choice.”
I step closer until I can see the tiny lines around her mouth, the faint sheen of sweat at her hairline. “I’ve made hard choices; I’m making one right now.”
Her gaze lowers, just for a second, to my midsection. “You’re already compromised. You think you’ll be able to keep fighting when the risk includes a dependent variable? They’ll use it against you. Leverage you. Either take it or take you both off the board entirely.”
“They’re welcome to try.” I shrug.
“You can’t win.” Her voice rises. There’s no malice in it—just certainty. “Even if you take me off the board, the work continues. Other doctors. Other labs. Other children. You’ll run yourself into the ground and still lose.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But I’m not willing to sit here and do nothing.”
“That’s denial talking.”
“No.” The word comes out low and dangerous, a warning. “That’s a fucking choice. The correct choice.”
For a moment, she looks almost… fascinated. “I’m guessing you already killed Evelyn, so I guess I’m next, then.”
“Yes.” A single word, no explanation, and no sadness for another life lost.
“And you think that will change something?”
“It already changed something.” I smile sweetly at her. “For the first time, you’re not the one in control.” My smile twists into something darker, no longer sweet.
Fear shudders across her face. She tries to hide it, but I see it. Good. “You won’t get anything else out of me—no codes, no locations, no names. You can torture me, but your timeline won’t allow…”
“I’m not here for intel.”
Dr. Reyes just stares at me, her mind turning gears as she tries to figure out what else could give her an upper hand.
“There has to be a line,” I explain. “Somewhere. And unfortunately, you’re on the wrong side of it.”
She studies me for a heartbeat, head tilted. “You sound like him.”
“Who?” I ask.
“Ghost,” she answers. “Sterling. Whatever you’re calling him these days. Always so very sure there’s a right way to bleed. He’s been like that since a child.”
Anger flares, bright enough to sting my eyes. “You don’t get to say his name.”
“Of course not,” she says, laughing like this is some joke. “You’ve claimed him. Just like you’re trying to claim this.” Her gaze dips again.
“He’s mine.” A growl escapes me, territorial and protective, oozing from every word.
“They’re both mine.” She opens her mouth again, maybe to dig the knife in one more time.
I don’t give her the chance. I rush toward her and slit her throat just like I did Evelyn’s.
I sit there watching the light fade from her eyes until there is nothing left but the body of the vile woman. Rest in Hell.
My hands are steady. My breathing is not. I stand there long enough to feel my heart slow, then turn and walk out, closing the door behind me with a final, echoing click. Sterling is waiting exactly where I left him. His eyes take me in. “Thorn?” he asks quietly.
“It’s done,” I whisper.
“Both?”
“Both,” I confirm.
Something in his shoulders loosens. “You okay?”
I think about lying. About saying yes, about pretending this didn’t scrape something raw inside me.
“No,” I answer honestly. “But I will be. We will be.” I grab his hand and place it on the child growing inside of me.
We may have a traumatizing past, but it will not bleed onto this little Briar we have.
Sterling nods once. “Then let’s go tell the others the monsters under the floorboards are gone.
Cam will be ever so grateful we took care of the monsters under his bed,” he chuckles as I shove his shoulder.
“And start figuring out how we hunt the ones still out there.” We climb back toward the light together, leaving the dead weight of their choices in the dark where it belongs.