“He’s the one who did this to you?”
I nod.
Granger clears his throat. “Is everything okay?”
Turning to face him, I say, “How long has my—I mean, Dr. Phillips been working here?”
Granger scratches the side of his forehead. “I’m not sure. He recruited me from University almost two years ago. I always assumed he’d been here forever, just because he’s so knowledgeable. Why?”
That was before my father’s death. How is that possible?
“It’s nothing,” I lie. “I thought I knew him, but it turns out I don’t.”
Zane shoots me a concerned look, but I ignore it.
Hopping up on the examination table, I say, “Is this where you want me?”
“That’s perfect. Let me finish getting everything set up and we’ll get started.” I watch as Granger moves around the room, opening drawers, gathering equipment, rolling over a metal tray table.
Zane asks Granger if there’s a restroom he can use. Once he’s gone, Granger turns to me.
“Was Zane the one with you on the train?”
“So you do remember me?” I say, my cheeks flushing.
He nods. “But I don’t understand. I thought Zane was engaged to Arian Stratford, that GM girl.”
“He is,” I say. “But… it’s complicated.”
Granger’s eyebrows rise.
“And no, Zane wasn’t with me on the train. No one was.” A flash of hurt runs through Granger’s eyes. “Look,” I say. “I’m sorry for lying to you. Truth is, I just wanted to be alone.”
He focuses on the tubing in his hands. “I guess I can understand that. Sorry for coming off so strong. You—reminded me of someone, that’s all.”
“Who?”
He hesitates. “My sister.”
Before he can say anything else, Zane returns. Granger gives me a silent nod, like our former meeting will remain our little secret, and then he continues to get everything ready for the procedure.
“What exactly will you be doing to Sienna?” Zane asks when Granger pulls out a long needle.
“I’m putting her to sleep so I can go in and remove the chip. Once the chip is removed, her memories should return.”
“So that’s it? A simple chip removal and I’ll be back to normal?”
“Essentially, yes,” Granger responds, his fingers untangling the IV tubing.
Zane steps in. “You’re familiar with removing a blocking chip?”
Granger shrugs. “More or less.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Zane mutters.
“Look,” Granger says. “I’ve assisted with plenty of the insertions and even done a few myself.”
“But?” Zane says.
“But… I’ve never removed one. I watched Dr. Phillips remove one. Once.” His hands lift helplessly. “Not that many people who have their memories erased want to get them back.”
My throat goes dry. I’m about to go under a knife, a procedure performed by an intern, not a doctor, who will remove something from my brain that may or may not give me my memories back. What am I thinking?
Zane glances at me, the muscle in his jaw twitching—a sign he’s distressed. “What guarantee can you give me that Sienna will be okay?”
Granger tilts his head to the side and contemplates Zane’s question. “I’m ninety percent sure that she’ll come out of this perfectly fine, memories intact, with normal functioning brain activity.”
The muscle twitches again. “And the other ten percent?”
“Well…” Granger pauses, pursing his lips together. “There’s always a risk of brain damage.”
The room spins a little, and I grip the sides of the examining table. Brain damage? I’m about to tell Zane it isn’t worth it, that I’d rather live a life of not knowing than not live a life at all, when Zane looks at me and says, “I think you should do it.”
“Are you serious?” My voice comes out high-pitched at the end.
Zane crosses the room and rests his hand on my back. Leaning down, he speaks low in my ear, his breath tickling my cheek. “It’ll be fine. It’s a small risk. And I’ll be here the whole time.”
I look at him and nod. For some reason, just knowing Zane will be here helps relieve some of my fears, like if something goes wrong, he can magically fix it, which, of course, is ridiculous.
Taking a deep breath, I lay back on the examination table. “Let’s do this.”
Zane takes my hand and squeezes it as Granger rolls the metal tray table over. And as he inserts an IV into my hand, Zane pushes the hair off my forehead and whispers, “It’ll be okay.”
Whatever is in the IV and the mask Granger places over my face makes me sleepy, oh so sleepy. I tip my head to look at Zane through half-closed lids. They are so heavy, too heavy; I don’t know how much longer I can keep them open.
“You’re really pretty, did you know that?” I say, smiling up at him.
Someone snickers, and Zane smiles back. “Thank you. So are you.”
I’m about to say something else, the words on the tip of my tongue, sliding around, but then I lose them. The words, I mean, not my tongue. My tongue is still there, I think.
But will it still be there when I wake up?
***
A dull ache travels up the back of my neck and spreads through my brain. I never knew a brain could be sore, but sure enough, there’s a persistent pain that edges along my nerves, rattles against the base of my head. My tongue runs over the inside of my mouth. Yep, still there.
Zane’s face is the first I see. Then again, I don’t know why I’d expect any different. There’s a slight beep, beep—a heart monitor, maybe?—and the air is tinged with the sweet smell of blood. Zane hovers anxiously over me.
“Hey,” I croak.
He smiles, and some of the worry dissipates from his eyes. “Hey yourself.”
“Is it over?” I ask.
“Yes. And you did great.”
“So my—my memories are fixed?”
Granger’s voice pipes up, and I turn my head to look at him, despite the ache that returns when I do so. “It may take a few hours for all the synapses of your brain to reconnect. But, yes, I did remove the chip. Everything went well. I see no reason why all your memories should not return by the morning.”
“Success,” Zane whispers.
“Are you feeling any pain?” Granger asks.
I nod, and then wince. Lifting my IV-laden hand, I feel along the base of my head. There’s a bandage there and some of the hair has been shaved away.
“Sorry,” Granger apologizes, coming to stand next to the bed. “I had to shave a little to access the site—not sure how Dr. Phillips inserted it without doing it before—but it’s underneath the rest of your hair and should grow back fairly quickly. As for the pain, it will lessen in a few hours, but your head may be sore for a few days. Any kind of over-the-counter pain meds should help.” He looks at Zane when he says the last part, and Zane nods.
“How long does she need to recover?” Zane asks.
Granger glances at a clock across the room. “I’d say she should be able to move around in a few hours.”
According to the clock, it’s already one o’clock in the morning. I reach my hand out and search for Granger’s. “Thank you,” I murmur. “Thank you.” My eyes feel too heavy to keep open. “Can I go back to sleep now?” I close my eyes.
When Granger speaks, it’s like he’s talking from a distance the way his voice is all muffled and blurry around the edges. “She’s still feeling the after effects of the anesthesia,” he explains in his long-distance voice.
“How long until it wears off?” That’s Zane asking the question, but why does it sound like he’s on the other side of the wall instead of standing right beside me?
“Maybe a couple of hours? Everyone reacts differently to it. She may be more sensitive.”
There’s silence, and I think maybe Zane has gone to sleep too. Then he says in his smothered voice, “What ti
me will people start arriving in the morning?”
People? What people?
“As long as you’re gone by seven, you should be fine,” Granger says, his voice an underwater muffle, the words barely recognizable.
I’m not sure where they’re going, but I know exactly where I’m going—back to sleep. My mind drifts, the pain dulls, and the steady hum of their words is as lulling as the rhythmic tides of the ocean. Back and forth, loud and soft, heavy and light.
***
“Sienna, wake up,” a voice says urgently, followed by a gentle shaking. “You need to wake up now.”
My eyelids are made of lead, yet I struggle to open them. In a desperate attempt to appear wide awake, I prop them open with my fingers. Zane is staring at me, a wild expression on his face.
“We have to leave. Now.” He glances behind him, and his words come out in a rush. “I’m sorry, but I fell asleep. Workers are already arriving. If Dr. Phillips sees you—” He breaks off and places his hand on my back, forcing me to a sitting position.
My head feels clearer, and thankfully, the pain has lessened. My eyelids are now working on their own. I allow Zane to help me off the bed, and then I slip my feet into my shoes. Once they’re laced up, thanks to Zane, I carefully twist my head a few inches, stretching out my stiff neck.
“Careful,” Zane warns. “You don’t want to pop your stitches.” Grabbing my hand, he leads the way out of the lab. Granger is standing in the hallway, looking peeved.
“I told you to be gone by seven,” he hisses.
“I fell asleep,” Zane retorts. “You could have come and checked on us.”
“I was neck-deep in research,” Granger huffs. “Now hurry. Once I get you on the tube, you’re on your own.”
With one arm slung across my back, his fingers firmly pressing into my waist, Zane helps me hobble down the maze of hallways that will lead us to the wall of tubes. I keep my head down, partly because it’s too heavy to keep up, and partly because I don’t want to be recognized. There’s a steady stream of people dressed in business suits and lab coats who are now filling the hall.
We’ve almost made it to the tube when a voice stops me cold. “Sienna?”
It’s a voice so familiar that it produces an ache, stronger and deeper than any pain in my head. I look up, and my eyes connect with the ocean-blue eyes of Trey. He’s dressed in a business suit and carrying a briefcase. His shoulders are broad, his hair as dark as I remember, and the dimple in his chin so prominent I think if I stuck my finger in there, it might get lost forever. Straightening up and trying not to look like I’m on the other side of normal, I give him a small smile. I only hope he doesn’t notice the tiny drops of blood spattered on the shoulder of my shirt. “Hello, Trey. How are you?”
I can tell he’s working through something. “What are you—what are you doing here?” His expression changes from surprise to confusion to… pleasure? Is he pleased to see me?
“She’s—um—interviewing for a position in the lab,” Granger jumps in. “As an intern. For Dr. Phillips.” I smile and nod when Trey looks at me for confirmation, immediately grateful Granger is so quick on his feet.
Trey’s eyes flit to Zane and his arm slung around my back. “Are you interviewing as well, Zane?”
“No,” Zane answers. “I’m only here for support.” I almost laugh outright at the truthfulness of that statement, because he literally is holding me up right now.
Trey looks uncomfortable for a moment. He clears his throat. “I see my advice worked.” He’s talking to Zane, not me.
A smile spreads across Zane’s face, one so wide he reminds me of a cat that’s swallowed a canary. “You have no idea.”
My face heats up as I realize they’re talking about me.
Trey nods, ducking his head. “That’s great.” He forces a smile, his eyes turning to me. Just being under his gaze makes my heart pause in its normal beating pattern, before resuming at a frightening speed. “Take care, Sienna. Maybe I’ll see you around, especially if you get the job.”
“Yeah, maybe.” And even though it hurts to say the words, I force myself to spit them out. “Tell Rayne I said hi.” I squeeze closer to Zane as if it doesn’t bother me in the least to acknowledge that my former boyfriend is now engaged to another girl.
His eyes shift. “Sure.” He gives all three of us a polite nod before continuing down the hall. It isn’t until he’s out of sight that I realize I’m shaking. Even though I know I shouldn’t, even though I tell myself not to, I glance behind me. Trey’s dark head is moving away from us, surrounded by several other people in the hall, and just as I’m about to face forward, he glances over his shoulder, his eyes connecting with mine. I feel like I’ve been seared with a hot iron as my entire body heats up, from the tip of my head all the way down to my toes. I turn abruptly, knocking into Zane, who still has his arm around me.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine. Let’s just get out of here.”
Granger uses his keycard, retina, and fingerprint to get us access to the tube. Once Zane and I are settled inside, Granger gives us a soldier salute.
“Thank you, Grange. I owe you, man,” Zane says.
“Yes, thank you,” I echo. I’ve stayed quiet these past few minutes, because seeing Trey has awakened a slumbering beast. All those thoughts, feelings, and memories are now surging forth, reminding me of the loss and heartache I’ve experienced these past few weeks. Images of the lagoon, a Phoenix spread across Trey’s back, the white scar on his stomach—a gift from the Devil’s men—lying next to him in his bed the night the Compound was bombed. And while it’s great to not feel like I’m missing part of my life anymore, I wish I didn’t remember. That I didn’t know. Because with the memories comes a never-ending ache—a longing for what was and what will never be again. Maybe ignorance truly is bliss.
And the only thing I can hold on to, that keeps me grounded—steady—that keeps me from spinning off into the sky, never to be seen again, are these words: I love him. I love him. I love him.
22
ZANE
When we reach the motel, Sienna is too weak to stand on her own, so I lift her in my arms and carry her. She buries her head in my neck, her nose pressed against my skin. I’m almost to the door when I hear the squeal of tires, a car door slam, and a voice so familiar that it makes my blood run cold. “Zane? What’s going on?”
I turn slowly with Sienna in my arms, only to find Arian standing in the parking lot of the motel, her arms crossed over her chest and a suspicious look on her face.
“Arian, what are you doing here?”
Sienna’s head lifts at the mention of Arian’s name. Her eyes take in the woman standing in front of us.
“I saw you,” Arian says, her voice flat. “I was eating breakfast at a cafe with a friend, and I saw you and Sienna exit the launch to the AIG facility. You were practically carrying her, and you’ve been so secretive lately. So I followed you.” She glances at the motel door behind us, the one with the crooked numbering. “Why are you here?”
“Remember? I told you that they’re putting in new floors in the condo this week, so we had to leave. You said you would stay at your friend Wendy’s house, and I said that Sienna and I would get a hotel.”
“But why are you here?” she asks again. “I thought you’d be at the Windsor Hotel or Westin Valley Inn. I never pictured you here.”
Sienna shifts uncomfortably in my arms.
“Listen, Arian, let me get Sienna inside, and then I’ll explain everything. Okay?”
Arian looks suspicious at first, but then she nods.
I carry Sienna to the door, unlock it using the prehistoric brass key, and ever so gently set her on the stained couch in our tiny sitting area. She winces.
The smell when we first walk in is overpowering, so it isn’t surprising that when Arian follows us through the door, she wrinkles her nose. Her eyes travel around the unpleasant room before resting on the double bed in the mi
ddle.
“Well, this is an interesting setup,” she says slowly, like she’s working through something in her mind.
“We use pillows between us,” Sienna pipes up.
“Must be a family thing,” Arian mutters.
Sienna’s cheeks turn red in response.
Arian props a hand on her hip. “So why were you in the AIG? What happened there?”
“It’s my fault,” Sienna says, raising her hand. “I’m doing a story about—”
I can’t handle it anymore. I’m tired of hiding, and I’m tired of lying.
“No,” I interrupt in a tired voice. “No more lies.”
Sienna opens her mouth as if she’s about to protest, but then she closes it.
I turn to Arian, who is standing next to the drooping dresser.
“Arian, there’s something you need to know.” I pause. “Sienna isn’t my cousin. And she isn’t a freelance reporter on assignment in the Capital.” Arian’s eyes go wide, and I stop because I’m not sure how far I want to take this.
She needs to know. I can’t hide it anymore.
I continue. “And despite everything—our differences, that I’m engaged to you, that she loves someone else—I’m in love with her.”
Arian’s hand flies to her mouth as tears fill her eyes and slide down her cheeks. “You lied to me?” Her voice is small, like a child’s.
“I’m really sorry,” I say. “I never meant to hurt you. Everything just spiraled out of control, and one lie led to another.”
“How could you?” she says, her voice rising. “How could you let me think she’s your cousin? How could you be with her right in front of me, without feeling an ounce of remorse? And how could you bring her here, doing God-only-knows-what with her?” Her fists clench in anger. “You have a lot of nerve, Zane Ryder.” She takes a step toward Sienna. “And you—” she spits. “You are nothing more than a common whore weaseling her way between the best match in history.”
Turning her anger back on me, she says, “You do realize you’re throwing everything away for her, right? She’s a nobody. She’s probably not even genetically modified, is she? Do you really think your father would ever approve of a relationship with a normal girl? You were made for better, Zane.” She sniffs. “You were made for me.”
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