Chapter 15 Rowan
The box sat in the center of the dining room table like an omen.
A cubed warning that something bad was already on its way.
I tried to convince myself that the contents had nothing to do with me, that Zolkos reentering the decommissioned base and dredging up long-buried classified documents was entirely unrelated.
But I knew better.
Deep in my chest, something told me that everything was connected, and the guys clearly thought the same.
Their nervous tells were too easy to read.
Cade could not stop rubbing his temples.
Ryker had not made a single joke since they arrived home with the box.
Killian refused to put me down, insisting on holding me.
Talon cracked his knuckles so many times I worried he was going to break his hands.
I reached for the lid, needing to rip it off like a bandaid. Before I could touch it, Killian yanked my hand away and Cade barked, "Stop, Rowan."
"What? We’re not going to open it now?" I snapped. "I thought you said whatever was inside could be important!"
"We don't know what's inside," Cade said, leaning closer. "Which is why I am going to open it."
I threw my hands up. "What exactly is going to happen to me from opening a box? It is not like it's a bomb or something."
Killian growled in warning as if I had personally challenged fate.
I groaned. "Oh my God! I can't even open a box without you all needing to control the situation."
Ryker finally laughed for the first time since they told him what they had seen. "Kitten, you could open a cereal box and it would probably explode on you. That's how bad your luck is. Let Cade handle the scary classified one."
I shot him a glare, which earned the smallest twitch of a smirk from his lips. Good. At least one of them was starting to relax again.
"Terrible luck and the self-preservation of a lemming," Cade muttered as he carefully removed the lid.
Everyone braced.
And nothing.
No explosion.
Because there was no bomb, only a stack of manila envelopes filled with yellowed, dusty papers.
"Well, unless you think I am going to die by paper cut, can I look inside now?"
"My hand is twitching, Rowan," Cade said, giving me his signature look that meant, cut the attitude.
He dumped the contents of the box, sending everything spilling across the table. Everyone grabbed a folder and started rifling through the papers in tense silence. Matching the box, a classified label plastered each folder.
I took a deep breath and flipped mine open.
The first thing I saw was the face of a woman, roughly my age.
I didn't recognize her, though she looked just like me.
Fiery red hair, deep blue eyes, and a sad expression.
Her picture sat clipped atop a stack of medical paperwork.
Thick black redaction boxes covered most of the identifying information, including her name and age.
But two unredacted words caught my attention.
Patient Zero.
The words hit me like a warning, and an audible gasp escaped before I could stop it.
“Rowan, what is it?” Talon asked, dropping his folder and turning his full attention to me.
“It's me,” I whispered, tracing the outline of the photograph.
Cade snatched the folder from my hands so fast I barely saw him move.
“Hey, what the hell! Give that back,” I snapped, but he ignored me. He stared at the photo, equally shaken for a moment. Then he schooled his expression.
“That's not you, Rowan,” he said dismissively, flipping through the paperwork.
“Well, not me exactly, but she looks just like me,” I argued.
Killian reached over and grabbed the folder from his brother with a low growl.
“Looks like Crane,” he said in agreement. Unclipping the photo, he passed it to Talon, and then Ryker.
Ryker snorted. “Maybe Zolkos has some freaky kink for experimenting on pretty redheads.”
“Zolkos was not the lead on this project,” Cade said, already absorbed in another folder. “Here, look.”
The folder slid across the table.
“Chief Scientist, Dr. Melker,” he said, pointing to the header on the paperwork. “He was overseeing something called Project Flame.”
“Have you ever heard of it?” Talon asked, scanning the document.
“No. But I remember that name. Dr. Melker… where do I know that from? Maybe…”
Killian started signing furiously. I tried to follow, but his fingers moved too fast, and I could only catch pieces.
“That's right. That dinner!” Cade said suddenly, snapping his fingers as the memory hit him. “The one where my mother burned dessert. The entire house stank of charred apple crisp for a week.”
Killian huffed. “Tried to blame the oven.”
Cade nodded, eyes narrowing as he pieced it together. “My father had Dr. Melker and his wife over that night. I'd never seen him so stressed. He kept saying he needed to impress Melker for a promotion. There was an important project happening at the time. Something he was desperate to be part of.”
Cade’s eyes dropped back to the folder in front of him.
“Maybe it was this. Maybe it was Project Flame.”
“But what is Project Flame? What does it have to do with her?” I asked, pointing to the sad woman in the photograph.
“And me?” I added.
“Maybe nothing. Maybe everything,” Cade said, voice low with frustration. “We won't know until I go through these files in-detail. The information is heavily redacted. It will take time to sort out.”
He closed his folder.
“In the meantime, it's getting late and you need sleep, Rowan.”
“What? No, absolutely not! I am not going to sleep. We're so close to finding answers! I'll look through it with you. I want to help, I want to—”
But Cade was already gathering the folders, stacking them out of my reach, and Killian stood, scooping me into his arms like I weighed nothing.
“Put me down,” I snapped, kicking lightly at him. “Seriously. I am not going to bed. I'm not a child with a bedtime! You can’t just cart me off whenever you feel like it.”
Killian only tightened his hold on me. “Little Bird's exhausted.”
“Rowan,” Cade said, leveling me with a stern look. “You're finished for tonight. Since you never seem to look out for your own best interests, we will do it for you. You need rest.”
I pointed an accusing finger at each of them while still held in Killian’s arms. “You are all control freaks. Every single one of you.”
Cade did not flinch. “Correct. Now go to bed.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don't,” Killian said, and kissed the top of my head.
“I kind of do right now.”
Talon smirked. “You say that a lot.”
“Because it is always true… in the moment,” I shot back.
Cade exhaled slowly, already returning to the folders. “Goodnight, Rowan.”
“I am still mad at you,” I called over Killian’s shoulder as he carried me down the hall.
“Noted,” Cade said.
Talon called after us, “Sleep well, Pet.”
Ryker then said, "Nighty night, Kitten!"
I groaned into Killian’s chest. “I hate all of you.”
But even I heard the truth in my voice. They heard it too.
A long hall stretched out in front of me, white, sterile, and cold.
It seemed endless. Door after door stood like sentinels along its length. I tried to open one. Locked. Then another. Also locked. All of them were. Where the hell was I?
A voice drifted through the corridor. Small, faint, feminine.
“Rowan.”
I followed it, hurrying down the hallway, trying to find the source. The voice grew louder the farther I went, pulling me toward the end of the hall. Then I saw it. A door with a large metal sign that read, “ZERO.”
My stomach dropped.
I reached for the handle. It turned. The door creaked open with a slow, painful groan.
The room beyond was pitch black. I couldn't see a thing.
“Rowan,” someone whispered from the abyss.
“Hello? Is someone there?” my voice echoed back at me.
“Help me, Rowan,” a weak voice croaked.
I stepped inside, trying to peer into the endless darkness and find the person calling for me.
But the moment I crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut behind me.
I spun around, pounding on it with both fists. “Open the door! Help! I'm in here!” My voice cracked, but no one answered.
Unable to see, I ran my hands along the wall, feeling frantically for a light switch.
My fingers brushed against one. I flicked it on.
A blinding, harsh white light exploded across the room. I tried to raise my hands to shield my eyes, but I couldn’t. My arms were bound at the wrists, restrained with thick straps. Panic surged through me. I tried to flee, but more straps fastened my entire body to a medical table.
Searing light blazed overhead from a cluster of surgical lamps.
“Shhh. Calm down now. Just a few more samples,” Zolkos said, leaning over me. His eyes were flat and inhuman. He blinked, but instead of his eyelids closing top and bottom, they closed side-to-side.
He lifted a surgical tray, holding it above me. In the reflection of the sleek metal surface, I saw my face.
Only it wasn't mine.
It was hers.
Patient Zero.
The woman in the photograph.
I gasped and shot upright in bed, waking in a full-body jolt.
My hands flew to my face, tracing my features, needing the reassurance of my familiar angles. I needed to know it was me. Not her.
“It was a dream. A bad dream,” I whispered, breath shaking.
My nightmares had been absent ever since my first shift. Talon suspected their cause was our thoughts and bond bleeding together as my shift approached. He said he shared them too, though we never remembered the details clearly when waking.
But this was not the same.
This one was vivid.
Sharp.
Real.
I distinctly remembered the fear, the sterile hall, Zolkos’s empty eyes blinking inhumanly, the restraints biting into my skin, and the woman whose face I wore.
Patient Zero.
Like me, but not me.
This nightmare was my deepest fear clawing its way into my subconscious. Losing all my freedom.
Killian grunted in his sleep beside me and slung a heavy arm over my waist. I eased back down next to him, trying to find comfort, trying to chase away the fear curling in my chest.