7
The truth is, I’m always expecting the worst to happen.
The light from the rickety chandelier flickered over Takeshi’s dark hair. He stood at the entrance, wearing a black sweater with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his corded veins. A white bandage was barely visible, tucked beneath his hair.
Takeshi’s complexion looked healthier than when he’d been chained in the cell. In fact, he appeared stronger than ever. From his tight expression to his stiff posture, everything about him radiated defiance.
She barely breathed as his metallic gaze swept over the room. He took in the lit torches along the stone walls, the Aces at the far table who subtly reached for their concealed handguns.
And finally, he reached her table.
His gaze drifted past each one of them, lingering on Adan, Brock, Serene, and Winnie.
Then, Takeshi stopped on her.
He frowned, his brows pulling in a jagged line.
Khalani slowly stood, her heart hammering inside her chest, but she forced herself to remain still, letting him take the first step.
But he didn’t move a muscle.
Takeshi stared at her with profound consternation, like she was a puzzle he’d encountered before but couldn’t quite piece together how.
“We’re happy you’re back, Lane,” Jack said, inclining his head respectfully.
“Likewise.” Lane stepped forward, dark shadows clinging beneath his eyes. “There’s much we need to discuss.”
Everyone straightened, but Khalani’s focus was entirely on Takeshi. His jaw was rigid, hands fisted tight by his side as he stared at her.
Takeshi suddenly bent his head and whispered something in Lane’s ear. The doctor sighed deeply, but he nodded.
“Is there an empty room he can retire to for the evening?” Lane asked Jack. “I’ve already informed Takeshi of his…condition.”
What?
Jack and Spade held equally puzzling expressions, but Jack nodded before gesturing to Jericho.
Khalani’s mouth parted as Jericho led Takeshi down the hall, but when he brushed past her shoulder, he didn’t make eye contact or say a word.
Like he couldn’t bear to be in her presence a moment longer.
Her breaths grew shaky, and Winnie gripped Khalani’s empty hand.
“W-what happened?” The words rushed from Khalani as she turned to the doctor, needing answers. “Why is he acting this way? Were you able to get the chip out? What about his memory?”
“That’s a lot of questions—”
“Just tell me!”
One of the Aces grabbed their gun at her outburst, but Jack raised his hand, halting them.
“With the help of some colleagues, we were able to remove the chip.” Lane said.
A wave of relief washed over her table.
“Thank God,” Serene whispered.
But Khalani still felt her heart being squeezed together. Lane’s posture was too stiff, his eyes laced with trepidation.
“What about his memory?” she pressed.
Lane scrubbed a hand through his thin white hair.
“The brain is delicate, and he has significant mental trauma. It seems they’d given him false memories, and after we removed the chip, his memory regressed.
He remembers the last week, but the whole few years before that are gone.
It’s likely a defense mechanism—parts of his mind shutting down to protect from all the suffering he’s endured. ”
“It got worse?!” Serene shouted. “So, you’re telling us there’s no hope? You can’t do anything else?”
“There’s nothing more we can do, but there’s still some hope for his memory to return.”
“What do you mean?” Khalani asked, barely breathing.
“With time, it’s possible.” Lane’s voice was cautious at the sheer desperation beneath her eyes. “He could regain his memory tomorrow, next week, a decade from now. Or never…and that’s something you have to accept.”
In no lifetime would Khalani accept that. Ever.
The doctor had granted her a kernel of hope, and that was all she needed to fight to the bitter end.
“Is there anything I can do to help him remember?” she asked.
“Don’t overwhelm him. Bombarding Takeshi with memories he can’t access will only stress his mind. What he needs most is space. And understanding.”
Khalani’s gaze drifted to the door Takeshi had disappeared through.
Space and understanding.
She repeated the mantra, searing it into her brain.
Understanding wasn’t the problem. Understanding she could offer.
It was space.
Having to pull away when all she wanted to do was draw near.
“There’s something else.” Lane turned to Jack. “It wasn’t easy, but we’ve been running the diagnostics you requested on the chip.”
“And?” Jack leaned forward.
“It’s incredible. And like nothing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered, his voice coated in sheer awe and terror. “The chip completely hijacks the brain, eviscerating who they once were before turning them into mindless puppets. Jack…with these, they can create a whole army.”
Fear spread through the room like smoke. The terror clung to their skin, seeped into their clothes. Some of the Aces covered their mouths in horror. Others muttered curses, gripping their weapons as they braced for war.
But Jack’s expression didn’t change. He stared at the blank wall, thumbing his chin.
“How many of these chips are out there?”
“Hard to say.” Lane frowned. “They must torture the individuals first. That takes time. They could already have hundreds in their control. But we do know the chips weren’t made in Hermes.”
Jack whipped his head. “If not here, then where?”
“Apollo.”
Khalani and Serene locked gazes, their eyes wide.
“How do you know that?” Brock asked,
“When we ran diagnostics, we found a code that links directly back to Apollo. And it’s not new. The chip is at least five years old.”
The ensuing silence was so overwhelming, even a cough would seem too loud.
“You’re telling me that Apollo’s been producing mind-control chips for years?” Spade’s face paled. “But why give them to Hermes? What’s their goal?”
Jack mulled over the new information, his face pulling into an even deeper frown as he turned to their table. “Brock, did you hear anything about this in Apollo?”
Brock profusely shook his head. “No. And if they were building an army of brainwashed people, word would’ve gotten out to the Death-Zoners.”
They were missing something much bigger.
They all could feel it.
An invisible presence lingered over their shoulder, following them wherever they went.
The blue eyes of Alexander Huxley flashed in Khalani’s mind, and she bumped into the table, toppling a cup of water over.
Serene shot her a worried look and picked up the cup.
“Khalani, are you okay?” she whispered.
Water dribbled over the wooden table. She watched the liquid fall in slow motion as more voices rang their dissent, calling for an attack on Apollo.
But those blue eyes never left her mind.
“We need to recover, regroup, and plan our next move.” Jack’s words cut through the noise, silencing the room. Everyone stared at him like a beacon in the dark.
“Keep staying low for now. I must get back to the hospital before anyone questions my absence.” Lane’s expression remained grim as he handed the chip to Jack and left, but not before giving Khalani a strange look.
Like he was silently warning her to leave as well.
To not go near Takeshi.
But the chip was out. And he might not have his memory back, but Takeshi didn’t show any further signs of aggression.
Even so, Jack turned to his large bodyguard.
“Jericho, I want a round-the-clock watch on his door. Even though the chip’s been removed, we still can’t be certain of the aftereffects.”
Jericho nodded solemnly and marched to his post.
She kept staring at the wooden door, her vision narrowing, yearning with everything inside of her to run past the guard and open it.
“Khalani.” Serene tugged on her arm, disrupting her from her spiraling thoughts. “Let’s get your mind off it. Since we’re not allowed to leave the church, Brock suggested doing some group exercises in the basement.”
Khalani raised a brow at Brock. “You suggested a group exercise?”
“No.” He scowled. “I told Serene that I could train her while we’re stuck here. She’s the one who wanted to make it a group affair.”
“I don’t see why we can’t all suffer together,” Serene snapped, returning his glare.
Brock rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Like he was dealing with the most aggravating woman on the planet.
Someone else used to look at Khalani the same way, and her eyes flittered back to the forbidden door.
Just one more talk with him wouldn’t hurt—
“C’mon.” Serene pulled on her arm. “No better time to start working out than now. Adan, let’s go. Winnie, you coming?”
Winnie’s eyes lit up. She stood, smoothing her purple dress and clapping her hands together. “Winnie would love to join. She might not be the best fighter, but she’s a good student.”
“Excellent.” Serene beamed.
“Can I come, too?” Elise tentatively asked, tugging on the hem of her shirt.
“Of course. The more the merrier, right, Brock?” Serene flashed Brock a sweet, innocent smile.
He stalked off without another word.
That was how Khalani found herself in the basement of an abandoned church.
They’d gone back to their rooms and changed into more breathable clothing.
Khalani wore tight black shorts that clung to her thighs, but at least she could move in them.
She wished they were longer, but she tucked the oversized gray sweatshirt into the waistband, so it didn’t look like she was gallivanting through the church with nothing covering her rear.
All five of them were stretching on the floor while Brock grumbled by himself at the front.
No doubt he was cursing Serene’s existence, but her blue-haired best friend only seemed to gain energy every time she pissed the Death-Zoner off.
“Jeez, Khalani. How are you that flexible?” Adan panted as he stretched in a straddle.
Khalani turned her cheek over on the floor. “In Braderhelm, I would stretch in the cell when I didn’t have anything else to do.”
She left out the part where Takeshi would run her through frequent stretching exercises before training.
“A stiff body rarely wins fights.” That’s what he had told her.