The Countdown (The Taking #3)(80)

“You think we didn’t try that? I was one of the first to volunteer. We all emit a certain amount of the kind of power we needed. Problem is, our human side. Our cell membranes absorb too much of that energy, and then our immune system sees it as a threat and breaks it down. The more attempts we made, the weaker I became. It’s why I have this.” She pointed to her bum leg. “I broke it a couple of years ago, and it never did heal properly, not even by human standards.

“Our only option was getting our hands on a Replaced.” She laughed wryly. “Don’t you see? Without those two kids, this whole house of cards crumbles.” She never said their names—Kyra’s or Tyler’s—as if naming them would personalize what she was doing. “Funny, I don’t think the M’alue realized they were handing us the solution to our problem when they created them.” Her smile was tinged with lunacy. “We searched high and low, sending out teams, operatives. We even had people inside the Daylight Division. We set up our own task forces—teams of Returned who worked for us. They infiltrated camps just so we could keep tabs on new abductees. We promised them the world if they could deliver us a Replaced.”

“It was you . . . ,” I hissed, unable to stop myself from charging her. “You sent Natty after Kyra.”

She tensed, raising the gun again, and Jett caught me. He held me back. His fingers gripped my wrist, reminding me it wouldn’t do any good to get shot now. To get Willow shot.

We still had to save Kyra . . . and, yes, Tyler too.

“Yeah,” Molly chuckled. “And we almost had her. We got word that Eddie Ray’s team had her and she’d be ready for transport within the day. They’d figured out how to sedate her and everything was set.” She shook her head. “At first when they didn’t answer us, we thought they’d changed their minds . . . maybe found another buyer for her.”

Buyer. The pulse in my throat picked up when she talked about Kyra that way. Like she was some sort of property, to be traded on the open market.

“Then you guys showed up. Just . . . showed up. Out of the blue.” She nodded at Ben. “And it no longer mattered that we didn’t have the girl. You handed us the boy on a silver platter. The second he entered the building we knew: he was the key.” Her long sigh oozed satisfaction. I wanted to punch her in the face. “The girl showing up a day later was just a bonus. You know, we’ve never seen someone emit so much energy, Ben? You should be proud. She’s like a walking power plant.”

“You’re going to hell,” he spat at her.

She smirked. “I’m already there.”





CHAPTER NINETEEN


“I HAD A SON ONCE,” DR. CLARKE SAID, HER FACE masked in the eerie blue glow coming from the gel inside Adam’s tube. She stepped around it, so we could see her more clearly, but she never released her grip on the syringe in her hand. It stayed where it was: ready to kill Adam with just the flick of her thumb.

“You don’t have to do this,” Tyler said, his eyes moving between the needle and her tortured expression. I didn’t know how he managed to sound so reasonable.

Dr. Clarke focused on Tyler. “I’m doing this for him,” she explained slowly. Softly. “All of it. This project.” She blinked against the tears she could no longer hide. “He was taken at the same time the other children were.” Her eyes fell on me. “Not long before you were taken.” A single tear slipped down her cheek and she used her shoulder to brush it away. “Only he never came back. Not even after all these years.” Her voice cracked. “Do you know what that does to a parent?”

Agent Truman lowered his gun as I eased past Tyler and stepped in front of her. I swallowed the lump in my throat, but my chest ached. “I do, actually. My dad . . . he’s not the same as he was before. It broke him.”

She jiggled the tubing, letting me know I’d come far enough. “He was fifteen,” she whispered, eyeing me desperately. “And if I can find him . . . If we can go up there and bring him back, he’ll still be fifteen.”

From behind me, Tyler reached for my shoulder, maybe trying to tell me not to, but it had to be said. She needed to know. I shook my head. “All you’ll do is make things worse,” I told her. “Get the rest of us killed too. You don’t want that, I know you don’t.”

It had been painful to admit the truth out loud—how damaged my dad had been by my taking—but looking at Dr. Clarke I couldn’t help thinking maybe it wasn’t her fault.

And maybe it wasn’t my dad’s either.

I took a step toward her. “Dr. Clarke, your son—” I faltered; she’d never said his name.

“Nathan,” she moaned. “My son’s name, it’s Nathan. Do you know?” she asked. “Did they tell you . . . ?” She took a shaky breath. “He’s not coming back, is he?”

Nathan Clarke.

I didn’t want to answer her. How could I?

But I knew the truth. They’d downloaded all that information into my head. I knew who’d survived the experiments. I’d seen his face. I knew what they’d done to him.

A quiver ran along my spine even before I found the strength to shake my head. Dr. Clarke’s face . . . her entire bearing crumpled. I turned to Tyler, wishing he could do something, anything to fix this.