“Indeed,” Dallamore thought for a moment.
I turned to my dad. “I don’t agree with what he’s doing. I love Sage too much to lose her. If it’s here where I can be with her, then so be it.”
My dad considered, then glanced at Dallamore. “I don’t mind if we give him the opportunity to prove himself. A second chance, to show his true loyalties.”
“Might I add, Dr. Adamson,” said Dallamore stiffly, “that there is no we. At this moment, you yourself are on probation for taking matters into your own hands on the island and for being unwilling to relinquish the girl at the airport. Your actions are questionable themselves. So this would be a matter of us giving you both another opportunity to prove yourself loyal, not just your son.”
My dad spoke politely, with his jaw clenched. “There was no validation at the airport that it was Vasterias who authorized—”
“Ah, but we’ve been over this already, haven’t we, doctor? I suggest we let it pass. By your actions over the coming months, you will earn your position and authority again. As of now, you have none.”
I held my breath. This wasn’t something I anticipated, a falling out between my father and his coworkers. They’d been working together for two decades now. What could he possibly have done to raise alarm? He was their number-one fan. Their highest supporter of all things mod code. Their best employed scientist. What did I miss? Hopefully it was nothing that would undermine Dallamore’s belief in me, simply because of my father.
“I must add,” I said, “that I know where Cunningham is.”
My father’s eyes widened at this.
Dallamore spoke first. “You do? Tell us. Now.”
I was about to give some artificial location that would buy me a few hours’ worth of time.
“We don’t want a disruption though, do we?” My father interjected. “For the party? No, not now. When everyone has gone home, we will sit down and talk about this. But right now, we don’t want to compromise our position here. Everyone beyond these doors believes that Dr. Cunningham is dead. What would it look like if the truth leaked out of this room that he was very much alive? How would that settle with all those here tonight to support us with their funds?”
Dr. Dallamore bit his lip.
“Come on, Dallamore, go drink your wine, enjoy your evening. We can pick this back up in a few hours when the crowd clears.” My dad waved toward the door.
Why was he sticking up for me? Helping fight this battle for me?
Dallamore finally nodded, the wine winning out. “Alright, alright.” He turned in my direction. “You’re lucky, my son, that I’m willing to give you a trial period as well. It’s only because I know you could be helpful for us, especially with the girl. She needs commandeering. You might be just the thing we’re looking for.”
“Wonderful. Thank you, Dr. Dallamore.” I bowed slightly.
Was it just me, or did my dad seem very pleased at Dr. Dallamore’s acceptance of me?
He tried to hide it, but I knew him too well not to notice the change in his demeanor.
Once upon a time, a younger me might have hoped it was because he was happy for my return. But I knew better.
So what was my father up to now?
A warning pinged in my stomach, bothering me, but I shoved it away.
Anyway, it didn’t matter. We’d be gone in a few hours. And it was okay with me if I never saw my dad again.
“Dallamore,” I said. “May I suggest that you increase the security around the perimeter of your property? Perhaps alert your guards to keep a watch out for my brother?”
Dallamore nodded. “Certainly, certainly.”
“Now if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’d like to go make myself useful. I’m going to keep an eye on Sage for the evening, if I may. I’d hate to lose her again.”
48
SAGE
A guard followed me out the door of the ballroom. Surely he wouldn’t follow me into the bathroom?
I guessed correct. The guard stopped at the door.
“I’ll be a few minutes,” I said. I glanced sideways at him as I pushed through the doorway, and whispered, “It’s number two.”
I could barely keep my voice steady at the thought of what I’m actually about to do.
No amount of me wanting to meet my father, or desiring to see Finn alive again, would keep me from doing this now.
Not after what they just said in that ballroom.
49
BECKETT
My heart stopped when I saw her across the room at a front table, dazzling the crowd in a golden, glimmering dress.
How was she more beautiful than I remembered?
The man on stage—who looked like Dr. Marshall Mitchell if I remembered correctly—was making what seemed to be his culminating statement.
“These eggs,” he waved toward a display on stage, “their embryos, will be a new example of what is possible.”
Was it real? Were her eggs really up there? Had they gotten to her so soon?
I saw Sage stiffen, saw her talk to the man sitting next to her at the table.
I saw her slide the knife into her lap.
I watched her chug a glass of wine and get up. She moved quickly, holding the napkin discreetly at her side. Her stride made me nervous.
That was her determined walk. The way she moved when she’d set her mind to something and wasn’t going back on her decision.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Eggs on display. Knife in hand. Exiting the ballroom.
No.
A man approached me from behind, oblivious to the dread coursing through me.
“I’m Sven, and you’re late,” he said in a low voice.
I didn’t even turn toward him.
I didn’t hear whatever else he said, my pulse pounded so hard in my ears.
I was too far away to comb through the crowd and catch Sage before she made it out the back doors at the opposite end of the ballroom. I didn’t know where she was going, but I wouldn’t let her down this time.
I would get to her before she did anything she’d regret, before I lost her again.
50
SAGE
There was an older woman powdering her face at one of the plush stools in front of a mirror. She seemed startled by my sudden presence, maybe it was the loud click of my high heels on the marble floors, maybe she could hear the thumping of my heart.
I brushed past her toward the toilet stalls. “Pardon me.”
I closed myself into the last stall. The lock was sturdy and the door carried to the ground. My stall was closed off completely, save for a gap at the ceiling which opened to the next stall over.
Good, it will take them a bit of time to get to me.
Back on the island, when I was strapped to that gurney and staring death in the face, I made two promises to myself. First, stop questioning the loyalty of the people who loved me and start trusting them. Second, stop this Corporation and ensure that this happened to no one else.
I wasn’t doing so good with the first one. I still had way too many doubts about every single person surrounding me. I questioned everyone, trusting no one besides Finn, who wasn’t even fully human.
But I could do the second one. The second one was in my complete control. And now with Vasterias talking about making other embryos—other little people—I had all the motivation I needed. The reason which had slowed me from doing this sooner—that Finn might still be alive—wouldn’t stop me now. I couldn’t let it. I didn’t have the luxury.
So much more was at stake now than just my brother’s life. This was about lots of other lives.
Finn—if he were alive somewhere out there, and if he stayed alive—would understand this someday. He’d be able to come to terms with why I had to do it. I had to believe that.
My hand shook as I removed the steak knife from the napkin. The knife looked sharp enough, with tiny serrations along the edge. I tried to take a deep breath. It would have to be qui
ck and hard.
I didn’t have enough gumption to slice at my neck. I didn’t have enough time for my wrists to bleed out. But I’d worked with enough animals to know that my femoral artery would do just fine.
Two minutes. That’s all it would take.
This was going to hurt.
The only satisfaction—the biggest motivation I felt—was in knowing the fury the doctors would feel when they found me here in a pool of my own blood.
I waited for the sound of the woman’s heels exiting the bathroom. The door closed behind her, and the room went silent.
Starting at the hem of my dress, and using the knife to get me started, I ripped a seam up the side of the fabric.
I carefully prepared the cloth napkin. I would place this between my teeth.
I matched the ends of the cloth, folded it in half, and then folded it again.
Tears were rolling down my cheeks before I even realized I was crying.
There was a special moment, when studying the stars in the barn loft back on the farm, that I felt so small and inconsequential compared to the universe. Small, and yet, connected to everything. Tonight, in this bathroom stall, I was still that small. But to this one group of people, I’d become very, very important. Too important.
I supposed I never thought my life would end up like this. Only weeks ago, I was on the farm, eating Mom’s garden vegetables and bottle-feeding a baby cow with Beckett.
The baby cow got gangrene. Beckett had to shoot it.
Perhaps I should have recognized the omen.
This is what it feels like to be totally powerless. Totally out of control.
I have no options but to take myself out of the equation. All I can see is the need to be dead.
The world is better off with me dead.
“I’m sorry, Dad.” I whispered. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more for you than this. I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet you.”
I heard talking outside the bathroom and knew I was running out of time. I shoved the napkin into my mouth. My hand gripped the knife so hard my knuckles turned white. I pressed the tip of the knife to the skin at my inner thigh.
The knife was over the artery. All I had to do was shove it in and pull.
I inhaled deeply, squeezed my eyes shut, and pictured the shine in my father’s eyes when he looked down at me in my very first dream of him.
And then, I heard a voice.
Maybe it was God.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
51
BECKETT
The guy wouldn’t let me into the women’s bathroom.
He stopped me at the door and refused to let me go inside. Said it was for the ladies.
So I punched him in the face.
I didn’t feel myself enter the bathroom, or sprint down the row of stalls, or jump from the toilet to the stall wall that separated me from her.
I only remember the complete terror that rolled through me when I saw what she was about to do.
52
SAGE
Above me, there was Beckett, leaning over the high wall from the next stall over, breathing heavy, and looking partly terrified and partly relieved that I’d actually frozen at his words.
“Sage, what in the hell are you thinking?”
The surprise I felt at seeing his face up there, with me like this, made me feel like exploding into sobs.
A million emotions rolled through me: joy, relief, shock.
But more than anything, I felt guilty, too embarrassed at this act he’d caught me in to move or do anything at all.
My shoulders shrunk slightly inward. The napkin fell from my mouth.
“They want my eggs, Beck.”
“I’ve wanted to get closer to your eggs for three years. You never tried to kill yourself before.” He smiled, his eyes hopeful that his joke would take hold.
His comment distracted me, just enough to keep my sobs at bay.
“That’s because I didn’t know you wanted them. I didn’t even know you liked me like that!”
“I don’t like you like that. I love you. Now please, move that knife away from your thigh.”
I cranked my head back to look at him and really take him in, half of his body perched over the granite wall in his fancy tuxedo, his sandy hair combed to the side, and his face—fresh and innocent—attempting to hide horror with a forced smile.
Beckett.
I’d missed him.
Or at least the old him, the Beckett I knew on the farm.
“You can keep the dress pulled back if you like though.” He quirked his features further into a grin.
I rolled my eyes and yanked the dress over my thigh, grateful for a reason to be annoyed, because it kept me from breaking down completely. Maybe Beckett knew this.
“Will you unlock the stall door please?” he said, his tone near begging.
I nodded, and he disappeared. The next thing I knew, he cracked open my door and was peeking inside. When I didn’t object, he entered slowly, like he approached a trapped and frightened animal.
He squatted in front of me and placed his hands on mine. Up close, I noticed a cut above his eyebrow, and I wondered what he’d endured since leaving the island.
“I don’t even want to know what was going through your mind just a few seconds ago,” Beckett said. “Actually, scratch that, I desperately want to know. I’m just not sure if I’d survive hearing it.”
Slowly, working carefully, keeping his eyes on mine the entire time, he pulled the knife out of my hands and dropped it on the floor next to the toilet. Then, he rested his hands back on top of mine, in my lap.
Pure relief flooded through me. With Beckett in front of me, his soft green eyes in my face, there was still hope.
Beckett was here. So Sven wasn’t lying. So there might be another way. So I could get to Finn. And Jack would know how to fight this. And I would meet my father.
It didn’t have to end this way. Not right now. There was still hope.
Relief. That’s all I felt.
“This is what we’re going to do,” Beckett spoke calmly, steadily, as if any faster might send me over some precipice he couldn’t see. “We’re going to walk out there, and we’re going to pretend we’re happy. We’re going to act overjoyed that you have the best eggs in the entire world to donate to Vasterias, and that you’ll happily give them as many as they want. We’re going to dance, we’re going to laugh. I’m going to schmooze these people until they’re eating out of the palm of my hand. And then we’re going to walk right out of here together. Tonight. In just three hours. Can you make it that long?”
I pondered this and nodded.
“Good.” Beckett reached up with his thumbs and gently wiped away the tears from both of my cheeks. “Because I’m not quite sure I could do it without you.”
53
JACK
The motorcycle hummed beneath me on the highway.
Sari rode on the back—fake helmet, jeweled jean pockets, and all.
The sun had set over an hour ago. The wind felt good, whipping at my neck, clearing my head.
I put down my visor about fifteen minutes back when it started misting outside. Storm clouds hung in the distance, menacing. It looked especially dark out tonight, the moon half-covered by wispy clouds.
Storms were great for not being seen. Not so great for watching curves in the road. Not so great for quick escapes.
I wasn’t worried about myself. It was Beckett I was thinking about.
I brushed the mist from one arm of my leather jacket, then the other.
The weather was what it was.
There would be no turning back now, slick roads or not.
Beckett and Sage would be waiting for me, and I’d be arriving soon.
54
BECKETT
The first time I wanted to kiss her, the moment was nothing like I expected.
We were dirty from the fields, sweaty. We were in the barn, shoveling horse manure.
&
nbsp; I remember she looked up at me, after I said some stupid joke.
Her eyes twinkled. She tried not to laugh, but her lips tugged upward, about to give way.
I wanted so badly to lean in and kiss her lips, kiss her smile.
I remember thinking I hadn’t seen anyone more beautiful.
How did we get so far away from that?
How did we get here? With knives at our thighs and a gulf between us?
I wanted the “us” back. I wanted it so badly it hurt my every cell.
But for now, all I could do was keep her safe.
55
SAGE
Beckett held open the stall door for me, and I stood up from the toilet, trying to contain the shaking that had taken over my body.
I wiped my cheeks, smoothed my dress, inhaled.
Questions. I had lots of questions. Focus on that.
“Finn?” I said. “Is he alive?”
Beckett’s face looked pained. “I don’t know. We haven’t heard anything good from your father, but they haven’t said he’s … gone.”
Neither of us wanted to say anything else. I could tell that this information hurt Beckett nearly as much as it hurt me.
I swallowed, centering myself. “When will Jack arrive?”
Beckett scanned me, checking to see if I was appropriate enough to exit the bathroom. “10:00 pm. Right when the bidding is set to start.”
He reached out toward my dress. His finger lingered on the slit at my thigh. “What will people think we’ve been doing in here?”
Yes, Beckett was still trying to distract me, trying to keep me from thinking horrible things about Finn, or Vasterias, or not getting out of here without everything intact inside my body.
At the moment, I was perfectly grateful for a lighthearted distraction.
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