by Angel Lawson
Monroe nods. “We’ve been watching—don’t worry about that, but what we had to do was make sure you hadn’t been compromised.” Her gaze lingers on each of us. “Like some of the others—the failures you mentioned.”
Astrid’s mind was reeling. Quinn still hadn’t said a word. And Casper? Where the hell was Casper?
She’s snapped out of her thoughts when Quinn folds his arms over one another and asks, “Why did you bring us here? What do you want?”
Monroe glances at the other men and women in the lab. “We brought you here to train you. Make you stronger.”
“We’re already strong,” Draco says. “You saw that in the tests.”
“We need you to be better.”
“Why?” Astrid asks. “Why do you need us at all?”
“Because the Big Bad is coming, the one that took out the group home. The one that killed your parents and then your mentors. Now they’re coming for you.”
Astrid’s voice is quiet when she asks, “You know who it is?”
“We know who it is, and together, we’re going to stop them.”
Quinn steps threateningly toward Monroe and the sound of guns clicking into place sounds from above. They look up and a dozen guards aim their weapons at him. Quinn holds his hands up innocently but there’s no doubt of the pain under the surface. “Tell us what you know. Now.”
“I’ll tell you everything,” Dr. Monroe says and pushing her glasses up her nose. “Trust me, Mr. McCrae, we’re on your side. We always have been.” She nods at a door across the room. Draco is closest and he opens it. The door leads outside to a lush tropical landscape. Blue skies are overhead and Astrid gets the strong feeling this isn’t a simulation but actual paradise. She looks back at Monroe, who gives her a small smile. “Welcome to Project 12, and welcome home.”
Chapter 12
Astrid
“What do you mean ‘welcome home’?” Astrid’s stepped outside the door into the fresh, clean air. She now realizes how artificial the air she’d been inhaling in the simulation was.
Dr. Monroe follows her outside. An armed guard isn’t far away. She shouldn’t begrudge her. Astrid and her team are deadly with incredibly heightened skills. “This is our base and has been since the inception of the project. The plan all along was to bring you here after we did the initial tests at the group home. But then the house was destroyed and you all scattered. It took years to find some of you and a few we didn’t discover until you all linked up as a team.” She glances at Owen.
“But why here? What is this place for?” Quinn asks.
“Look, I won’t deny you’re all very talented and skilled. You’ve adapted to your abilities very quickly, especially with little to no training, but you can do so much more. The time has come for you to explore and expand your skills.”
“Because the Big Bad is coming,” Draco adds.
Dr. Monroe nods. “Exactly.”
She leads them down a stone path, under pink flowering trees. The front door is made of solid wood and the house itself is more mansion than anything else. Smaller than Demetria’s house but bigger than Draco’s cottage. The front door is opened from the inside and an older man in a crisp gray shirt and pants stands in the entrance.
Before they get to the door, Astrid grabs Monroe’s arm with her hand and asks, “Where’s Casper? Is he okay?”
“We grabbed all of you at the same time. It was a coordinated effort. No one could be tipped off or we’d never get you all.”
“But where is he?” The tone of Astrid’s voice is more stressed than she’d like to show but she’s worried. She can’t hide it. Monroe seems to sense this and gives her a sympathetic smile.
“He’s safe. And undergoing his own intensive training. You’ll be reunited soon.” She turns to the man in the door. “This is Warrick. He runs the house. Any issues or concerns go to him. This includes the kitchen or any necessary repairs.” Monroe passes him with a tight smile and he nods at each of them as they enter the house.
“Did you say food?” Owen asks, rubbing his stomach. “Because I can tell you now, we need food.”
The foyer is beautiful. It has an island flair. Tile floors and wood walls. Astrid worries it’s not real. She’s unable to shake the discomfort from being in the simulation for so long—or the anger that lingers from being put there in the first place.
Owen stands next to her, taking in the house, and she grabs his hand. It’s warm. Familiar. He looks down at her and smiles. Real. This is real.
“You’ll live here while training over at the facility. As you know from the simulation chamber, our systems are state of the art. There, you’ll be able to experiment with everything from your own abilities to your physical conditioning to practice simulations for any event.”
Draco scans the room and his gray eyes land on Monroe. “How long do you plan on us being here?”
“Until you’re ready to take on the enemy.”
“And how long do you think that will be?”
Astrid wonders the same thing and waits for the doctor’s reply. “I’ll be honest. The clock is ticking and we don’t have much time. Two weeks? Sooner?”
She looks at her teammates, connecting with their eyes. The gray of Draco, the blue for Quinn, the candy-apple green of Owen, and sees her own decision reflected back. They’ll do it, and not just because they’re trapped in the unknown; they could fight their way out if they wanted to.
No, they’ll do it, because they have no choice. It’s who they are.
It’s what they are.
Astrid frowns at Monroe. “Then you better get us up to speed.”
*
Dr. Monroe leads them down a short hallway and into a glaringly bright, sunny room. The windows make up the walls and parts of the ceiling, and the warm light feels good against Astrid’s cheeks. A circular table is in the middle of the room and the top is covered in heaping plates of food. Her stomach rumbles at the sight and Owen nearly knocks her over to get there first.
“Eat,” the doctor says. “Get some nourishment and I’ll tell you what you need to know.”
“Don’t tell us what we need to know,” Astrid says, watching her teammates shift their focus to food. Quinn loads his plate with protein. “Tell us everything. All of it.”
“Very well,” she says, taking a seat at the table.
Astrid gets her own plate and fills it with food. She spots the water glass and says, “I’m going to need some caffeine. Tell that butler guy to get me a soda immediately.”
“We don’t have soda on the island. Your nutrition is very important.”
Astrid stares at her and Quinn snorts through a mouthful of steak. “That’s what I’ve been telling her.”
“I have the mother of all withdrawal headaches. Seriously, I’ll even drink a Pepsi.”
Owen turns to look at her, mouth full of food, and gapes. “She’s delusional. I’d give her what she wants.”
Monroe rolls her eyes and nods at Warrick. The man returns a few minutes later with a cup of coffee. “It’s the only caffeine we have.”
She sighs but picks up the cup and sniffs the bitterness. So, this is the day she becomes a coffee drinker. She knew it would happen eventually. At least there are pastries on the table for consolation.
“Now that you’re settled, let’s get started.” She lifts a small remote from her pocket and clicks it at the solid wall. The panel disappears and a large screen takes its place. “I think you all understand your history. You were each born with unique differences, slight enhancements; increased empathy and sensitivity, electrical current, incredible strength, and in Owen’s case, the ability to manipulate people into seeing what he wanted. Demetria’s imagination ran wild, Rex survived more than one deadly event, and Blaze had an intense fascination with fire.”
A sleek digital presentation appears on the screen. Photos of each of them as children roll by. Skinny, dark-haired Quinn. Owen with his white-blond hair and devilish grin. Draco, bigger than a
n average thirteen-year-old even then. Lean, hard muscles run under his Batman T-shirt. They roll through, flicking past children Astrid remembers and some she doesn’t. Until the last one appears and it’s her standing on the porch with Harry in her arms, her head covered with her pink cat-eared hat and wearing three coats. Quinn’s hand touches hers under the table.
“When I was in college, my professor started a research project to study kids with different abilities. It began more about prodigies and how their minds and bodies worked. You know, the four-year-old that can play the piano or the eight-year-old that can compute mathematical equations better than adults in the field. Doctors agreed to put information into his database. Slowly, during the course of gathering information, a few anomalies appeared. Kids with heightened abilities. Strange ones. And we began isolating those differences instead. Suddenly we weren’t looking for the next Albert Einstein, we were looking for the next Clark Kent.”
“Clark Kent’s an alien, you know,” Draco says. “You were looking for aliens?”
She shrugs. “We were looking for anything or anyone that fit our criteria, and we started tracking your medical data.” Her voice wavers for the first time. “Then the unexpected happened. Junior—uh, Draco’s parents died, and my professor knew he couldn’t lose him to the system. So he set up the group home. Then inexplicably, more deaths happened and the house was full of—”
“Misfits?” Owen asks.
“Lost Boys,” Draco adds, eyes darting to Astrid’s. “And girls.”
“Children,” Monroe clarifies. “We had a house full of children and an assignment. Our mentor wanted us to cultivate your skills, enhance your abilities, lure them out and eventually help you control them, but—"
Quinn cuts her off. “But the explosion happened before any of that except the enhancement.”
She nods. “Yes. Your mentors whisked you into hiding. It wasn’t until you were all gone and the dust settled that I discovered the truth. See, the other researchers and I had a feeling something was off. The isolation and coincidental deaths of your families. It was too much. We’re scientists after all, coincidence isn’t something we really believe in. So, with a few others, I started a back-up plan. What happened if all hell broke loose? We assigned you to trustworthy people. Other scientists, a few with legal connections. Sure enough, once you all had a few doses of the enhancement drug and started exhibiting increased skills, the directive of the program changed. My professor wanted to test you harder—further, and ultimately he is the one that destroyed the house.”
“What? Why?” Owen asks.
Astrid answers, “It was another test—one to see who survived.”
Monroe nods. “Correct.”
“So the guy was a psycho?” Owen says.
“Is a psycho. He’s spent the last decade looking for you and it’s pretty obvious he’s found you. He killed your mentors and infiltrated the training program run by Jensen. He recruited Rowe and Rex. He bought the bombs and materials to take down the stadium.”
“Because he wants us, like Rowe said,” Draco tosses out. “He wants us to be his weapons.”
“For what?” Quinn asks. “Is there a bigger plan?”
“He wants what every ego-manic wants,” Dr. Monroe says. “To rule the world.”
“So we have to stop him,” Astrid says. “Fine. Done. Can we at least see who we’re fighting?”
Monroe presses a button on the remote and a photo slides into the frame. “Meet Sebastian Scheid.”
The man is unfamiliar. Everything from his light hair streaked with gray to the cold turquoise eyes behind wire glasses. His frame is thin, his jaw tense. He’s a handsome man other than the darkness in his eyes. Astrid thought their enemy may be someone they knew, like every other twist in this game, but other than cold dread in her stomach, he’s nothing more than their enemy and that’s all that matters. A glance around the table tells her that none of them recognize him either.
“That’s him?” Quinn asks.
“Yep. He looks benign but he’s a genius. Smart, manipulative, and just enough off his rocker to be a serious threat.” Monroe flips through more photos, these including images of the man with Rowe and Rex. Any question Astrid had about the validity of this fades away.
“And he wants us,” Owen confirms.
“For his arsenal.”
Astrid leans back in her seat and crosses her arms, taking in the man in the photo. “You said two weeks?”
“Max.”
She nods at Monroe and her team around the table. “We’ll be ready.”
*
After dinner, Warrick leads them upstairs. On the second-floor, light streams into the main hallway from a wide window facing out. From here they have a magnificent view of an orange-pink sunset dipping behind crystal blue water. Dr. Monroe said they were on an island. A tropical one it seems, and that maybe more unnerving than Astrid realized. Places like this are for vacation. Honeymoons. Romantic getaways. Not torturous testing and training. Not for plots against evil.
“There are rooms for each of you along with clothing, training wear and a fully stocked bathroom,” Warrick announces. The rooms sit across from one another, kind of like their dormitory at the Elite building, you know, if that was located in paradise. “I’ll alert you in the morning when breakfast is ready and then Dr. Monroe will return to gather you for your activities. Your name is on the door, with clothing and accessories suitable for each of you. If you need anything, I’m just a ring away.”
The older man points at a button on the hallway wall and a quick glance in the room shows a similar one next to each bed.
“Thank you,” Draco says. “I think we need a little time to process everything.”
“And sleep.” Owen groans. “I need so much freaking sleep.”
“Of course,” Warrick says, turning to leave. None of them say a word until he’s out of sight and Astrid can tell he’s gone. She faces them and for the first time since this nightmare began, they’re alone.
“None of this feels comfortable,” Astrid says. “This whole thing is insane.”
“Come here,” Quinn says, needing her touch as much as she needs his. She falls into his arms, craving his strength. His chest is warm, solid, and his arms clench around her and she finally feels safe.
A hand touches her neck and she squeezes Quinn before separating and curling into Owen. He’s tall and lean and her body fits perfectly against his. She feels his abs tight under his suit and his heartbeat racing against hers. Holding her face in both hands, he kisses her and she tries not to melt into the floor. God, she missed him. This. All of it.
He releases her and spins her around to Draco.
Draco. Mr. Perfect. An Adonis of a man with striking looks and a genetically superior physique. He’s one man she hasn’t fully bonded with yet. She’s trying and they’d been moving slow, due to his hang-ups. His concerns are legit and she’s giving him time and space. These reasons make the fact he reaches for her and drags her into a tight, powerful hug all the more shocking. She can feel the tremble in his muscles as he cradles her.
“You okay?” she whispers in his ear. He nods back, wordlessly, into her neck. When he lowers his arms, it’s with a reluctance she can feel deep in her bones. What’s going on with him?
Down the hall near the window is a small sitting area. Astrid gestures to it and walks over. They need to talk. Once situated she asks, “Are we all okay with this?”
“Do we have a choice?” Owen asks. He’s unzipped his jacket and the others do the same. They’ve been wearing these suits for days. None of them smell good.
“I don’t think we do,” Quinn replies.
“Do you think we can trust Monroe?”
Draco shakes his head. “No. Not at all.”
“So then what? We fight our way out of here?” she asks.
“We use them the way they want to use us,” Draco replies. “We’ll take their training. Use their tools and weapons and figure out what the
hell they’ve done with Casper, and then we take back our lives, once and for all.”
“I’m tired of being a pawn,” Owen agrees.
Astrid nods. “Then we do this our way, but first you guys need a shower. You smell awful.”
“You’re no field of daisies either, babe,” Owen replies with a laugh.
“Shower, then sleep,” Quinn says, he looks like he may pass out where he sits. Astrid taps his foot and he stands.
She walks to the first room on the right, the one marked with her name. At the doorway she pauses, seeing her men caught in a quiet conversation.
“What’s up?” she asks. Three sets of eyes look at her, each intense. “What?”
Quinn answers first. “We’re going to take shifts watching the rooms.”
She narrows her eyes. “You mean watching me.”
Owen shrugs. “Yep, we’re going to keep you safe. And each other. You have a problem with that?”
Her heart swells. In the midst of this--the confusion, the tests, the crazy situation--her guys have her back. First. Always.
“No,” she replies. “No problem at all.”
Chapter 13
Astrid
With the water hot enough to peel off her skin, Astrid washes away the dirt and grime. She’d hung her suit behind the door, thinking she never wants to put it on again. It stinks. Literally.
Like Warrick said, the drawers and closet are filled with clothes, and she can’t decide if it’s creepy or expected that they got her size and personal style accurate. She pulls on a white tank, a pair of tight black shorts, and secures her hair in a messy bun. Cracking open the door she spots Owen in the sitting area, feet propped up, reading a book he found somewhere. He’s freshly scrubbed and smiles sleepily.
“Good night.”
“Night.” She frowns. “Don’t stay up too late, okay? You need your sleep too.”