Enjoying her playfulness, I lift my hands in surrender. “I don’t mind at all. In fact, I welcome it.”
“Climb on, then,” she says, jerking her thumb behind her.
As I climb on and wrap my hands around her waist, her body stiffens.
“Was this a ploy to get close to me?” she murmurs over the engine.
I lean in close, my lips barely brushing her ear. “Of course.”
7
SIENNA
When we arrive at Zane’s house hours later with me on my motorcycle and him following in his car, there’s a bit of a commotion.
Dr. Hammond rushes up to us when we enter the area of the house that’s been deemed the “hospital wing.”
“Against my better judgement, Mr. Winchester has decided to leave. I’ve advised him to stay longer so I can do more tests, or at least admit him to the hospital, but he refuses. Something about getting back to the Capital where he has important business to attend to.”
Zane and I exchange a look. This is bad. Really bad.
“Physically, though, is he in any condition to be traveling?” Zane asks.
“Physically, he’s fine. Healthy as a horse thanks to your Re0Gene serum, but it’s the mental aspect I’m worried about.”
“I guess we can’t chain him to the bed, can we?” I say, only half-joking.
Neither of them seems to think that’s funny.
“Maybe Sienna and I should talk to him. Try to reason with him,” Zane suggests.
Dr. Hammond looks doubtful. “You’re welcome to try, but I don’t think it will do much good.”
As the doctor walks off, I take a deep breath and look at Zane. His brows are furrowed in concern. “We have to at least try, right?” he asks.
“Of course. I’m not letting Trey just walk out of here. Not when I worked so hard to get him back.”
When we reach the door to Trey’s room, I knock softly before pushing it open. Trey is dressed and staring out the window, his hands tucked into the pockets of jeans I can only assume are Zane’s. He still doesn’t know that he and Zane are brothers. Everyone—myself, Zane, even the doctors—figured it would be best not to add to his confusion right now.
He turns to the door as we walk in. “Ah, there are the lovebirds,” he croons.
I frown at Zane before focusing on Trey. “Zane and I are only friends.”
Trey gives a low chuckle. “Not according to him.” He nods in Zane’s direction.
I turn and glare at Zane. “What did you tell him?” I hiss.
He shrugs. “The truth. That I’m in love with you.”
“You shouldn’t have done that—”
“He asked. What did you want me to do? Lie?”
He asked? Why would he ask? Unless… unless he cares.
When I look at Trey, he’s staring at the two of us, an amused expression on his face. “I can hear you, you know.”
I move toward him. “Listen, Trey, you can’t leave. Your home is here.” I glance around. “Okay, not here, exactly. But you have lots of friends. Friends who need you. And you have me.” I hurry on before he can say something. “I know you don’t understand what that means, but I’m someone who will be devastated if you leave. Please, Trey,” I plead. “Stay a little longer until we can figure this out.”
“There’s nothing to figure out,” he says. He looks out the window again. “Rayne will be here at any moment.”
My throat closes. “Rayne? Rayne who?”
“Rayne Williams,” he says. “My fiancée.”
Images of Rayne flash through my mind. Rayne and her entourage of perfect friends striding past me when we went to school together at GIGA. Her gorgeous smile, long legs, and silky blonde hair. My stomach churns.
I can feel myself quickly losing control. “You don’t have a fiancée!” I shout. “And it sure as hell isn’t Rayne!”
Trey takes a step back, stunned, as Zane’s hand latches onto my arm. “Sienna, this isn’t the way,” Zane says, his voice low.
But I’m too angry to care what damage my words might do. Too upset to calm my feelings and curb my words. Trey has to stop living in this delusion. He has to be fixed before he loses everything and everyone he’s ever cared about.
And Rayne? Of all the people to think he’s engaged to, it has to be Rayne Williams? Seriously? How does he even know her?
Moving across the room until there are only inches between us, I grab his face in my hands. His skin is familiar, the stubble from his last shave pricking my fingers and reminding me of our last time together, in his room in the Compound.
It can’t be over, can it?
I feel a desperation growing inside of me like a seed that’s sprouted and needs room to spread out. He has to know.
“Look at me, Trey.” My voice softens. “The truth is, I love you. I’ve been waiting for the right moment—”
I stop when Trey’s uncomfortable gaze shifts out the window. “She’s here,” he announces.
My hands drop at the same time my heart does, and I bite my lip to keep tears from welling in my eyes. Why should he care that I’m pouring my heart out to him? He doesn’t remember me. I’m nothing to him.
I turn and peer out the window. Sure enough, a sleek white convertible squeals into Zane’s driveway, and the familiar figure of a tall, perfectly proportioned blonde steps out of the car.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter.
Zane joins us at the window. “Wow.”
I glare at him, and he gives me an apologetic smile. “She has nothing on you,” he whispers in my ear.
“Shut up,” I say. I turn my attention to Trey. “You can’t honestly think that Rayne Williams is your fiancée. Where did you meet her? How long have you two been together? When are you getting married?”
When Trey looks at me, I hope to see confusion, but instead, I only see pity. Does he pity me?
Careful not to touch me, he slips past and starts toward the door. He’s halfway there before he turns and says, “Trust me, Sienna, I’m not the guy for you.” He looks at Zane. “But the one who is may be closer than you think.”
And then, he’s gone.
No. No, no, no, no, no. Clenching my fists, I stare out the window. I didn’t work this hard to get him back only to lose him to a fake fiancée. Radcliffe may be dead, but apparently, his agenda lives on.
I sprint out the door and bound down the curved staircase, flinging the heavy front door open. Henry, the Ryder’s butler, stands in the foyer, looking confused.
“Everything all right, Miss Sienna?”
Ignoring him, I run out the door, immediately hit with the dry, stifling heat. Trey is already climbing into Rayne’s car, but she’s crossing to her side of the convertible when I burst outside. She looks at me with narrowed eyes, and then leans in the window to say something to Trey.
As I get closer to her, she extends a delicate hand. “Thank you for taking such good care of my fiancé,” she says, her voice honey sweet and coated with fake sugar. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”
I slap her hand away. “What do you think you’re doing, Rayne?”
Rayne smiles and crosses her arms over her chest. “Nice to see you too, Sienna.”
I match her stance. “Why are you pretending to be Trey Winchester’s fiancée? Who hired you? How much did they pay?”
Her eyes widen, and she puts a hand over her chest. “Why, Sienna, I’m hurt. How could you accuse me of such a thing?” She leans forward. “Truth is, I’ve known Trey for years. Way before you ever met him.” She shrugs. “We’re in love.”
By now, Zane is standing beside me, and Trey is climbing out of the car.
“You do realize,” I threaten in a low voice, “that Trey is the leader of the Fringe, and when we figure out what you’ve done to him, we will find you, and we will end this.”
Rayne smiles and flicks her long hair over her shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, her voice dripping wi
th sweetness.
When Trey reaches Rayne, he places his hands on her shoulders and steers her away.
As Trey opens her door, I call out to her, “Who are you working for?”
She stops and spins as if she’s in slow motion, her perfectly tan legs on display in her little red leather skirt. “This isn’t a game, Sienna. It’s the truth.” Rayne smiles up at Trey. “I can prove it to you.”
The next thing I know, her lips are on his, and she’s kissing him. No, they’re kissing, because the way his hands wrap around her waist and pull her toward him are proof.
My heart feels like a dozen arrows have been shot through it. I can’t watch. I can’t watch the man I love kiss another woman. I look away. I feel Zane’s hand rest on the space between my shoulder blades, anchoring me, providing me comfort.
When I turn back, Rayne is seated in the driver’s seat and Trey is closing her door. Before crossing to his side of the car, Trey looks directly at me and says, “Just let it go, Sienna. Please.”
My heart is ripped wide open as I watch Rayne start the car and back out of the driveway. I stare after her and Trey until they’ve turned the street corner, but sadly, he never looks back.
***
The ice cream Greta supplies me with doesn’t help. The swim in the pool with Zane, Emily, and my mother doesn’t help. And a walk through the gardens in which I see the array of forget-me-nots waving in the breeze, like they’re taunting me, doesn’t help.
Nothing helps.
That night, I’m sitting on the bed in the room that’s been designated as mine in Zane’s house, trying to figure out how to break the news to Emily that it’s time to go back home to our trailer—after all, Trey’s gone now, so there’s no reason to stay—when there’s a soft knock on the door.
“Come in.”
Zane pokes his head in, his face grim.
I sit up straight, my back rigid. “What is it?”
“Sienna,” Zane begins, coming into the room.
I clutch the comforter in my fist and wait for him to continue. Something happened. Something really bad.
“This probably isn’t a good time—”
“Just tell me,” I say, a bit too impatiently.
He holds up a comscreen. “There’s something you need to see. It aired a few days ago.”
A pretty brunette with shoulder-length hair fills the screen, and her no-nonsense voice wafts out of the speakers. “Days ago, Colonel George Radcliffe was pulled from the rubble of the Satellite Government Facility. He is now resting comfortably in St. Christopher’s, the government hospital located in Rubex. Despite losing both legs, doctors believe he will make a full recovery. We spoke to Assistant President Neiman, who was seen exiting the hospital earlier today.”
The camera shifts to a severe-looking blonde woman with tight lips and a pointy nose. When she tries to smile, it looks more like a grimace.
“Assistant President Neiman, how is Colonel Radcliffe doing?”
“The colonel is doing as well as can be expected. He has a long road to recovery, but his doctors are optimistic.” She smiles, or rather grimaces, at the camera. “If you’ll excuse me.” The camera follows her blonde bob—and her entourage of security guards—as she strides away and slides into a sleek black car with Pacifica’s flag attached to the antenna. As the car pulls away from the curb, several other black cars flank it. The camera returns to the face of the pretty brunette.
“Our news correspondent Sinclair Jones was able to visit with Colonel Radcliffe for a few minutes this morning. The colonel had this to say about the Fringe attack on the Satellite Government Facility.”
The image shifts to a hospital bed with a man who is unmistakably George Radcliffe. There are a few cuts on his face, and his arm is bandaged, but it’s his voice that makes my blood run cold.
“The Fringe will pay for what they did to the SGF and all the innocent men and women who died that day. I have a particular score to settle with the young woman who shot me and left me for dead.” His eyes narrow. For a brief second, it’s as though he can see me through the screen. “When I find all of you, I will crush you. Again. And again. Until there is nothing left.”
I inhale sharply as Zane’s finger moves over the screen, turning the device off. The room spins a little, and I close my eyes, blocking out the tick-tock sound of the antique hall clock that keeps me up at night, and the small whoosh of air from the overhead vents. Everything is fuzzy, muffled. I feel the pressure of Zane’s hand on my back, and I think he’s saying something, but I can’t make out the words. All I can think about is Radcliffe. Alive. And he’s coming after me. This time, there will be no mercy. This time, it won’t matter who tries to stop him.
He will find me. He will break me.
8
SIENNA
“Wait, where are you going?” Zane says as I stride past him. He grabs my arm, forcing me to face him, our lips only inches apart.
“Don’t you get it, Zane? This is Radcliffe. This is all his doing. Even after all that’s happened, he’s still controlling me. Now he has Trey and who knows what he’ll do to him—” I swallow hard, remembering what Chaz said. They want to gain access to everything Trey knows. “I have to inform the Fringe.”
“Tonight?” Zane asks, staring at me incredulously. “Can’t it wait until morning?”
I shake my head. Every minute Radcliffe has Trey means he’s one step closer to crushing the Fringe and all they stand for.
“I should have never let Rayne take him,” I mutter.
“What could you have done, short of tying him up?”
“Hey, I suggested that, and you and Dr. Hammond looked at me like I was crazy,” I remind him.
“Because it was, and still is, crazy. Do you hear yourself?” He gestures with his arms. “Trey chose to leave. There’s nothing you or I or Dr. Hammond could have done to stop him.”
I heave a deep sigh and step away until my back hits the wall. “I’m tired, Zane. I’m really tired. I’m tired of running. Tired of fighting. But it’s not over. It never will be, not with Radcliffe alive.” A new worry hits me. “And what about Mom and Emily? They aren’t safe now either.”
Zane steps close and rests one hand on the wall beside me. “They will be. There’s a safe house a few hours from here. We have it for emergencies like this. They can stay there until we work everything out.”
We?
“And,” he continues, “you aren't fighting this guy by yourself this time.” A muscle in his jaw clenches. “I left you alone once before, and it was the worst decision I’ve ever made. It won’t happen again. I promise.”
My breath catches. He’s so close I can see the little yellow flecks like melting butter in the brown of his eyes. I avert my gaze. “I’d better go,” I say.
“I’ll drive,” he says, moving back a few steps.
“No—” I start to say before he stops me.
“I’m driving. End of discussion.” He motions for me to leave the room first.
There’s no use trying to argue with him, so I relent. On our way down the hall, I pop my head in Mom’s room and let her know that Zane and I are going out for a while, so she doesn’t worry. Emily is already curled up next to her in bed, asleep.
Mom’s eyes scrunch in concern as she looks between Zane and me. “Where are you going? Isn’t it late?”
Thankfully, Zane covers for me so I don’t have to lie to her. “It was my idea, Mrs. Preston. I promise I’ll take good care of her.” He smiles and my mom is suckered in, her worry lines disappearing.
“Of course you will, Zane. I trust you completely,” she says.
This response isn’t surprising in the least. Even though I know she would never admit it, Zane is her favorite. I can tell by the way she gets a little flustered when he asks her a direct question. I guess even for a grown woman, Zane’s gaze is unnerving.
“Good night, Mom.”
I’m about to leave when she stops me. “Sienna.” I turn around. �
�I’m sorry about Trey.” Her eyes shift to Zane beside me. “But maybe it’s for the best?”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I turn away so I don’t say something I’ll regret. Why does no one understand? I didn’t only lose the guy I love, but the Fringe also lost their leader. And it’s all because of Radcliffe and his stupid lies and brainwashing. Not for the first time do I wish that I’d aimed the gun at his chest instead of his kneecaps in the SGF.
Zane and I have almost made it out the front door when we’re stopped by Harlow, who’s sitting in the living room off to the right of the foyer. It’s the room with the black grand piano that I admire every time I pass. I haven’t dared to touch it yet, though.
“Zane,” Harlow says, rising to his feet. He walks over to us. “There’s much that needs to be said. I’m afraid I handled things poorly, not only for the past twenty-one years, but also this morning as well.” He pauses. “You’re still my son, no matter what a genetic test says. I don’t want you to ever feel differently. You’re the one who will inherit my company.”
“And what if I don’t want it?” Zane replies, his voice cold.
Harlow’s eyes flit to me. “This really is a family matter,” he says.
“Of course,” I say. “I’ll go wait in the car.”
“No,” Zane says. “We’re done talking.”
“Zane, listen,” Harlow begins.
“Why should I listen to you when all you’ve done is lie to me for the past two decades? I can’t trust anything you say.”
“Perhaps we could sit down for coffee tomorrow morning and hash this all out. Surely we can find—”
“I don’t think so,” Zane cuts him off. Jerking the mahogany door open, he gives me a sideways glance. “Coming?” Without waiting for an answer, he stalks out the door.
Harlow turns to me, his eyes pleading. “Surely you understand where I’m coming from? Can you try to talk to him for me?”
I’m about to respond that it’s none of my business, but then I think of my father. He lied to me, to us, for years. Why? To protect us? Is Harlow Ryder any worse for wanting to protect his son?
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