Prototype

by M. D. Waters

  “I do not hate you,” I say. “I am just scared.”

  “Of me? I would never hurt you.”

  “No. Starting over. I am scared of starting over.” I look him in the eye, and a tremulous sea stares back. “I wish I could make you trust me.”

  Declan takes a moment to tuck my hair on both sides. Fingertips graze over my cheek. His eyes dance over the contours of my face, soaking me in for the first time in more than a year. His gaze stops on my lips. “I want to.”

  But he never could, and that was our biggest problem. Now the issue between us is one he cannot fix without wiping my mind completely, and who knows? Maybe not even then. Noah will never stand by for this a second time. Not after everything that has happened.

  Declan’s eyes lower to my black uniform and he lets out a slow breath. “I hate seeing you in these clothes. You’re one of them. It isn’t right.”

  A voice from one of Her memories surfaces out of nowhere. Keep as close to the truth as you can. They can spot a flat-out lie a mile away.

  Toni always gave me good advice. “I had no choice. They would not let me stay otherwise.”

  “You always had a choice. Why couldn’t it have been me?” His voice breaks on the end, and I know he has had too much to drink. The alcohol has loosened his strength of will. Or maybe this is the effect I have on him. He has never been ashamed of his feelings for me.

  “I have a daughter, Declan.” He takes a sharp breath. “I told you my host was pregnant. She died during childbirth.”

  Tears slip unbidden from my eyes. My chest and throat ache. This, at least, is real. “She looks like me. You have no idea what that is like. To see yourself in another human being. Maybe I did not create her, but she is mine, Declan. I only want to raise my daughter.”

  He stares into the cold fireplace, expression impassive except for the minute ticks in his jaw. Standing, he crosses the space and leans into the mantel, head bowed. The sun lowers behind the trees outside, and the shadow of their sway dances along the side of his body.

  I stand, but that is all I can do. The mag-cuffs attached to my ankles may as well have me encased in cement. Their magnetic link is too strong to shift. “The last thing I want is to hurt you with this. But you have to know the truth. You were right all along. Trying to stop loving you has been impossible, but my little girl . . .” My throat tightens and halts any further sound.

  Declan turns, letting his hands fall heavy at his sides.

  “There is no choice. It will always be her.”

  His approach is careful. Wordless. But his goal is clear. It goes beyond being near me. He wants under my skin, drinking from me, taking what is his. I never should have told him I loved him. Of all the lies to come out of my mouth, I should have stayed clear of that one.

  But it is done, and he cups my chin in those long, strong fingers so he can tilt my head back. And I want to fight this, but I will never escape if I cannot gain his trust. I close my eyes and push the remains of tears out. “It is not fair,” I whisper. “I want you both.”

  His lips press against mine and force them to part. Taking his bourbon-soaked tongue into my mouth stirs both guilt in my belly and sickness in my heart. Everything about this is a betrayal to Noah.

  Declan deepens the kiss, his whisker-coarse skin burning against mine. His hands roam down my back and under my bound arms, forcing our bodies together.

  He hardens against me, and this response shocks me into reality. He will want to have sex. What am I doing? Would I go so far as to sleep with him to gain my freedom? Would I do that to Noah and possibly wreck everything we have built? The answer to that is a resounding no. Sex is not an option. I will never willingly give myself to Declan ever again.

  I pull out of the kiss and look away, but he takes me by the chin and forces me to look into his lust-filled eyes. He smooths my hair back.

  “Thank you,” he whispers, then gives me the tiniest of kisses.

  I feel sick. “For what?”

  “For reminding me just how low you’ll sink to meet your own ends.”

  He pushes me down on the couch and strolls back up to the kitchen, where he pours himself another drink. I stare after him, shock zip-lining along my spine. He played my game, knowing the rules, and swept my feet right out from under me. And I was blind to the entire thing.

  Declan turns with a newly filled glass and sips while staring down at me. His gaze rakes over me, shameless, peeling away the layers and saying You. Are. Mine. Confidence oozes from him in the way he squares his round shoulders and opens his posture to me. In the purposefully slow way he draws a sip from his glass, never taking those eyes off me.

  I stand, hop twice until I am facing him, and raise my chin. “You have no idea how far I will go.”

  A grin slides across his face. “I love a challenge.”

  A buzzing vibration breaks the still air and he pulls his phone from his back pocket. He does not look at the screen before answering. “Is he gone?” he asks. After a single nod, he ends the call and tucks the phone away. “Time to go, love.”

  CHAPTER 41

  The teleporter bay we appear in is unfamiliar, but I am not surprised to find a flock of men and a stretcher waiting for me. Dr. Travista stands at the foot and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

  The second my body reanimates, I continue my limited struggle. Declan lifts me off my feet and carries me out. I attempt to roll from his arms. Bound or not, helpless or not, I will get out of this. I have no other choice. I have a family to consider now. I cannot lose these memories of our time together.

  He drops me on the stretcher and several sets of hands push down on me as I twist and writhe. Someone demagnetizes my ankle cuffs. I kick and fingers dig bruising deep into my thighs and calves.

  Declan belts an arm across my heaving chest and forces all his weight down until I cannot breathe. “Strap her ankles, goddamn it!”

  Dr. Travista unearths a syringe from his pocket. He thumps the tube. “I’d hoped not to need this. I need her conscious for the mapping.”

  “Just do it,” Declan says. “We’ve waited this long. A few more hours won’t hurt.”

  No. “Let me go!”

  A teleporter hums and everyone freezes, including me. To the far left, a man’s static-like shape solidifies. Evan Thomas looks directly at us the moment he is aware of his surroundings.

  He throws open the tube’s door, jaw clenched tight, face reddening. “You waited for me to leave, didn’t you? Thought you’d get away with it.”

  Declan squares his shoulders. “Every court in the nation can give you custody of her, but in the end, she’s still mine. I’ll revalidate our marriage—my lawyers are already working on it—and then what? What leg will you have to stand on then?”

  Evan snaps his beige suit jacket down and taps his ear. “Call Charissa,” he orders, then to Declan says, “We just so happen to be meeting with our lawyer right now. Your timing couldn’t be more perfect.”

  He looks down at me for the first time. Whatever he is thinking, it is hidden behind a perfect mask of anger.

  My heart, already racing, threatens to fly free of my chest. I do not know if him being here helps or hurts me, but it has at least given me a chance.

  Evan looks absently at the floor. “Bring the lawyer and a police escort to the cloning facility. Olivia is here.” He taps his ear again and scans Declan. “I want her off that stretcher right now.”

  I exchange a look with Declan, daring him to let me up. He knows why he should not comply, but what can he do? The police are coming. The lawyers. Apparently, at this point, he has no right to hold on to me. Good for me, at least.

  Dr. Travista stops one of the orderlies from unstrapping my ankles. “Mr. Thomas, with all due respect, Emma won’t go quietly. She’s dangerous.”

  Evan does not so much as blink at Dr. Trav
ista. “I want my daughter off this table now. The two of you are quite a pair.” His gaze flicks between Declan and Dr. Travista. “How about a lawsuit holding you both accountable for your actions here today? I can have you served before you sit down to dinner.”

  Declan, holding Evan’s intense gaze, lifts a small device and taps a button, and my cuffs demagnetize. “You’ll want to rethink this.”

  “I won’t have you, or anyone else, telling me what to think,” Evan says. “I didn’t work this hard to have it any other way.”

  My ankles come free of the straps. I roll off the side opposite Declan and beside Evan. He smells faintly of pine. I start to back into a teleporter, keeping my eye on everyone in the room. The orderlies are fast and appear ready to pounce if ordered.

  “I am going back to my family,” I tell them. “My real family. My daughter.” I flash the back of my hand at Declan, showing him my luckenbooth. “And my husband.”

  Declan’s teeth flash behind taut lips. “You won’t want to do that, love.”

  “Oh no?”

  Two teleporters hum, signaling new arrivals. In one, my mother stands with another white-haired man in a pinstriped suit. In another, police officers in orange-trimmed navy. They probably do not even realize they are way out of their jurisdiction.

  While I debate which of the two teleporters to fight my way to, Declan leans on the stretcher and shares a wordless conversation with Dr. Travista. Declan then nods his assent and the doctor looks between me, Evan, and finally Charissa, who walks up behind me in a pressed lavender pantsuit.

  I back away from the woman who gave me away, though there is a visceral tug in her gaze. Her smile wobbles and tears glaze her eyes.

  “Emma is dying,” Dr. Travista says.

  I tear my gaze off Charissa to glare at the doctor. “Is there no end to your lies?”

  His hands spread in a placating gesture. “My dear Emma. Why would I lie about this?”

  Declan meets my eyes. “All the clones are dying. You know I’m telling the truth. Whether you’ve admitted it to yourself or not, you know what I’m saying is right.”

  Charissa steps forward, practically vibrating. “You’re lying.”

  Evan slips a hand around her wrist. He and Dr. Travista begin a dialogue about whether or not Declan speaks the truth. One I do not hear because Declan refuses to release me from his thrall. The sea in his eyes coaxes me to see the truth.

  “Tell them.” His lips shape the words, but no sound comes out. Then in a tone just above a whisper, he says, “Tell them about the cold, dark depths of hell. They’re getting closer, aren’t they?”

  Evan and Charissa stop talking and look at me, but I cannot give them the confirmation they seek. I close my eyes. “No. It is not true.” Despite my vocal refusal, I believe him. His mention of the place I call an abyss only confirms my suspicions. He knows from personal experience. And there is no denying the truth any longer.

  I. Am dying.

  A grieving darkness surrounds me, cradling me in swaying arms. Death, which I once thought a nightmare, has been my reality all along. A life with Noah and Adrienne . . . They were the dream.

  Sonya was right. I will break their hearts again.

  “Stay and let Arthur help you,” Declan says.

  I choke out a dry sob. “No.”

  He begins to round the stretcher, his motions as careful as those of a hunter approaching a skittish deer. His entire focus settles on me, and he works his way around as if the many bodies in the room do not exist. As if there is only us. As if we are everything. “It’s been hard, hasn’t it? Everyone knowing what you are. A mirror image of the person you were. An interloper. Alien.”

  “Stop it,” I grind out.

  “He doesn’t really get it, does he? Stay and you’ll never know that feeling again.”

  Noah loves me. Me. Not Her. Everything else, all the uninformed opinions and scrutinizing looks, will pass with time. I just need to be patient and wait it out.

  “You do not know what you are talking about,” I say, taking a step back.

  “I’ve loved and accepted you since the second you opened your eyes. Can he say the same?”

  This is where he gets me. By the time Noah accepted the truth, I was already gone. His hesitation, and mine, nearly cost us.

  When I cannot respond, Declan presses forward, his eyes brightening. One of the officers stops him short of reaching me. “You’re my world, Emma. My very life.”

  But that will never be enough, will it? He has not yet realized there is so much more. “I am his entire universe, and he is every life I have ever lived.”

  Declan flinches back as if my words are a physical blow.

  Dr. Travista clears his throat, and the room snaps back into focus. “I’ve already found the source of the problem and have begun the process of curing every woman who has come through this facility. The process takes all of fifteen minutes,” he tells me.

  Lie still, Emma. This will take a while. It is imperative you don’t move.

  I shake my head.

  You may find some discomfort, but I need you to try very hard to be brave, the ghost voice says, defiant.

  I curl my fingers into fists, glaring at Dr. Travista. He wants me to be brave? I will be brave. “You will never lay another hand on me again.”

  Charissa reaches for me but stops short after seeing the warning glance across my face. “Let’s talk things over first.”

  “As if you care.”

  Those eyes so much like mine, like Adrienne’s, look stung. “Olivia. You’re my daughter. I only want to help you.”

  I lean close. “My name is Emma, and you lost your rights to help me the second you put me in their hands.”

  I push her in the chest and out of the way. She falls into Evan’s arms, and they are caught by two orderlies before going down. Someone yanks me back by the collar of my jacket. I slip out of the sleeves and race forward. Yells fill the space—“Stop her!”—and in the cluster of the small room, no one can.

  I reach the teleporter, the port number that will take me home on repeat in my head. One foot on the giving floor and something stabs me in the neck. Cold swells under my skin.

  I kick behind me, and my boot heel nails my attacker in the chest. I glance back. Dr. Travista falls into a group of orderlies and his empty syringe clatters to the floor at his feet.

  The room is already beginning to swim by the time I pull myself all the way into the clear tube. The door closes me in and the teleporter enters safe mode. Try as they might, no one is getting in.

  Four numbers into the code that will hide my port signature, Declan pounds on the outside glass. “Emma. You go back now, you’ll die. Don’t be a fool!”

  I squint at the numbers, which are starting to overlap one another. I rattle my head to clear my vision. “I . . . am going . . . home.” I have no idea if the words actually make any sound.

  The last number goes in and I hit ENTER. I drop to my knees and lean against the glass front. Declan bends and yells my name, but I cannot hear him. My eyelids anchor down as the spearmint fills the tube.

  I am barely conscious when the teleporter doors part and I fall through the opening, landing hard on a concrete floor.

  “Oh my God, Emma,” Noah says.

  Relief floods me. Thank God. I typed his office port number in right.

  He cradles me in his arms and pushes my hair away from my face. “What happened? Where have you been?”

  Sleep swaths me in its heat, but I have to tell him. He has to know what she has done. “Sonya. Declan.”

  • • •

  I wake in the hospital, blankets heavy and warm up to my shoulders. The privacy curtains surround me on all sides. Noah sits in a chair, elbows braced to his knees, fists laced and pressed to his mouth. Tired eyes stare toward my wrist, and mus
cles work in his jaw.

  “Hi,” I say.

  He flinches upright, then pushes out of the chair. I try sitting up, but he holds me down. “Don’t get up. Let me find Phillip.”

  I force his hands aside and rise before he can stop me. With a frown, he sits beside me, making the mattress dip low. He threads fingers into my hair, rests his forehead against mine, and snares me in his gaze. I am so grateful to be back in its encompassing hold that tears sting behind my eyes.

  “I was scared to death,” he whispers. “What the hell happened?”

  The day comes rushing back. Sonya’s lie. Declan. My parents. And finally, the revelation that I am in fact dying. How do I tell Noah that I have to leave again, only this time for good? There is no coming back from this.

  I clear the thickness from my throat. “Sonya took me to Declan.”

  “I guessed that’s what you were trying to tell me. The moment I told her you showed up in my office, the look on her face said it all. She’s not talking, and believe me, I worked her over good.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I had her locked up.”

  I am so relieved to hear this. After everything, if she had gotten away, too . . . “It was not for money. Declan gave her a data-slip with all of Dr. Travista’s records on cloning.” Noah straightens and leans away, but I continue. “She did it for you. For Adrienne. I think she hoped to regain your affections using the new information.”

  “I don’t even care about continuing that project anymore. It won’t matter once we destroy the facility. What the hell was she thinking?”

  How can he question her motives? What would someone not do for the person she loves? I cannot say I would never go to extraordinary lengths for him.

  “She loves you.”

  It is the same response he gave me about Declan once, and those three words held all the validation he required. I had been doubtful at the time, but what Sonya has done changes my point of view.

  Noah scrubs his face and stands. Paces between the bed and chair, hands on hips. “Unbelievable.” He stops and looks down at my clasped hands. “I’ll kill him for hurting you.”