Deviation (Clone Chronicles #2)(52)

But the fear that had paralyzed Sofia’s features into a wide-eyed and frozen mask had been all too real. I’ve only to recall her face to know it must be true. I wonder how she’s doing. If she’ll sneak away and go work or live somewhere else or if she’ll stay under the roof and employment of a man who thought nothing of serving her up on a midnight platter.

Linc catches my eye and I look away. Partly because Titus looms near the fireplace, watching, and partly because I know Linc wouldn’t care to know that looking at him makes me wonder how Daniel has fared.

Titus finishes speaking to Maria in a low voice and grabs his wallet and key cards off the table where he tossed them earlier. He checks his phone, frowns, and pockets it, turning to go.

“Sir,” Linc says as if to remind Titus he is there in the first place.

Titus scowls at Linc and then me as if he hadn’t meant to let it end up this way, but he must be in too much of a hurry to care. He shrugs his coat on again and flips his collar, glaring at us in turn. “I have to take care of something important. I will be back when I can. In the meantime, keep your hands off each other. Stay in the library,” he adds almost as an afterthought.

“I’d like to change—” I begin, gesturing to my clothes.

“The library,” he repeats, leaving no question what will happen if I’m found elsewhere when he returns. He holds up his phone. “And don’t forget, I’ll be watching.”

“Yes, sir,” I mutter, unwilling to argue it further. Not when my confinement includes Linc for company.

Titus grunts, apparently satisfied, and walks out. I stare across the empty space at Linc. He stares back. Neither of us moves as clipped footsteps fade down the hall. A moment later, I hear the elevator ding and the doors slide open, then closed again. The house falls silent.

I stay where I am, hyper-aware of the cameras and invisible eyes fixed on us.

Three seconds later, Maria appears. She looks back and forth between us and there is no doubt in my mind she’s been told to keep watch. As if the cameras aren’t enough. “Master Titus says you wait in library,” she says, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

I sigh and let her lead the way.

Linc is silent behind me as we walk. I want desperately to reach back and brush his fingertips with mine. To reassure him and myself that it will all work out. But I know what will happen if Titus finds out. To keep from trying it, I shove my hands into my jacket pocket and keep my head down.

The library is warm and lit when we arrive, as if this was the plan all along. I’m sure it was, just not necessarily with this particular bodyguard in tow. Maria steps aside to let us pass and then closes the door behind us without a word. I wait for the sound of a key being turned but none comes. Titus is trusting me to stay put. That and he’s watching my every move. Between the cameras and my GPS, I wouldn’t get far anyway.

I sink onto the couch, expecting Linc to join me, but he’s prowling the room, picking out listening devices from underneath tables and behind potted plants, disabling them via some hidden switch. Each one brings a few key strokes on the remote I’ve handed him. I press my lips together and wait.

The lull is enough to bring the night’s events flooding back to my exhausted and overloaded brain. I track Linc’s movements without really seeing him. The muscles in his arms flex, powerful yet subtle underneath the sleeves of his shirt as he reaches high on a shelf and retrieves a tiny black device.

My mind wanders to unwarranted images of other arms. Pale ones, detached from torsos, floating in fluid-filled containers. I don’t realize I’m shaking until Linc takes my hands and places them inside both of his. I blink and realize he’s sitting beside me. He pulls me into his lap and wraps his arms around my shoulders, hugging me close. His breath is warm on my neck. I inhale the scent of wind and leather and gasoline, hanging onto it like the edges of a favorite blanket. It sweeps me up and deposits me somewhere safe. Somewhere no one else can reach.

He’s careful to keep away from my swollen cheek. I lean into him, finding the hollow place between his shoulder and throat. His hand strokes my hair as he whispers reassurances. I expect tears but they don’t come. Everything’s too jumbled and confusing to be tragic just yet. But I let him hold me and soak in his comfort.

Eventually, the words make their way to the surface and I have to get them out. I sit up, still clinging to Linc’s shoulders and drawing strength from his touch.

I raise a brow at him in silent question. He points at the floor. There’s a pile of black bugs at his feet, tiny frayed wires sticking out of one end. It’s a risk. If he’s missed even one, we will both suffer. I suffer anyway.

“Tell me,” he says simply.

I tell him every detail I can without losing it, beginning with Taylor’s remarks about my tattoo going public. When I get to tonight, to the body parts in jars and Titus’s threats against my friends, his jaw tightens and he squeezes my waist. I pause but he doesn’t interrupt, just nods me on. It isn’t until I tell him about seeing Raven that he cuts me off.

“Are you sure it was her?” he asks.

“Positive. Or, well, it was one of her,” I amend. “I have no idea which one.” I show him the picture. His mouth tightens as he stares at it, enlarges it, zooms, stares some more.

“This is not the one that was here before you,” he says quietly. He points to her chin. “Or if she was, she didn’t have this scar yet.” He hands the phone back to me. “And you don’t know what she was saying to you?”