Whisper (Whisper #1)(74)

I wonder how he can say that to me with a straight face after what happened to his parents. Sneak confirmed it, so I know at least that part of Kael’s story must be true.

“Then explain it to me,” I challenge. I was never brave enough to ask before, but now I have to know. “Justify how I was locked up, imprisoned in an unending routine, until you came along and I was given a month to live.”

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “I’m telling you, Jane. That part you misunderstood.”

“Did I misunderstand the rest?” I ask, eyebrows raised. “Did I imagine the years of electroshock and everything else? Is torture considered a normal hazing practice for Lengard’s new Speakers?”

I know I’ve scored a point when Ward is unable to hold my gaze.

“Vanik took liberties with you beyond what was acceptable,” he admits. “He’s been reprimanded for his actions.”

My reply is caustic. “I’m sure that will stop him from hurting anyone else.”

“He’s the reason Enzo was working with you.”

My forehead crinkles. “Come again?”

“Exodus recruits aren’t supposed to have contact with those in initiation,” Ward reminds me, “but Enzo was with you from the very beginning to monitor your well-being, making sure you were staying physically healthy — and mentally healthy.”

An image of my hot-pink gloves comes to mind, the only splash of color in my otherwise whitewashed existence, and Enzo’s words from that night whisper across my memory: You can survive this … Just don’t give up.

Was he playing me all along, too? Just like Ward?

I hear Enzo’s voice again, remember more of his words: It’s about time you joined the fold. I thought you were never gonna Speak.

I close my eyes and turn away from Ward, certain he’ll be able to read the question on my face if I don’t. The question of whether they all know who I really am. Whether they all know the real reason I didn’t Speak for so long. Whether they know my name … Whether they know I killed my parents.

At least I’m certain Cami doesn’t know. She would have told me. I’m sure of it.

Having confidence in my friend helps loosen the ugly feeling in my chest a little.

“It was my uncle who tasked Enzo with watching over you,” Ward says, drawing my eyes back to him. “Enzo grew up as a military kid, his parents both highly decorated officers. In the years before he began Speaking and was brought here to Lengard, he was schooled in all kinds of physical training, which made him the perfect person to keep an eye on you.”

I roll that over in my mind. “Why was Enzo in place to make sure I survived the initiation if Vanik wasn’t supposed to take things so far?”

“Given your background, my uncle figured it was better to be safe than sorry.”

My breath hitches, and I squeak out, “My background?”

I wonder if this is it. The moment that I’ll discover just how deep his betrayal goes.

“You checked yourself into a psychiatric institution,” Ward says.

I relax — slightly.

“No one had any idea how you would react to being here. And when you didn’t Speak for so long …”

He trails off with a shrug, so I finish for him. “When I didn’t Speak, they decided to just keep waiting to see if I would.”

“Yes,” he confirms. “It was important that you revealed your ability of your own free will and didn’t feel pressured into working with us.”

At that, I can’t hold back my incredulous laugh. “I guess two and a half years was enough for them to give up on that, huh?”

“No one forced you to Speak that first time, Jane,” Ward says, his voice hard. “You did that on your own.”

“If I hadn’t, Abby would be six feet under right now.”

He has the grace to flinch — violently.

Running a hand through his hair, he says, “Look, there’s no point arguing about this.”

“We’re not arguing,” I, well, argue. “We’re discussing the justification for my imprisonment.” Never mind that I wanted to be locked away from the world. That part doesn’t need to factor into our narrative right now.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Jane,” Ward declares, throwing his arms out in an uncharacteristic show of frustration. “Do you want me to admit that I don’t know why they kept you in that prison cell for so long? Do you want me to tell you that I think what Vanik did to you was unforgivable? That he should be punished for his actions and made to endure the same horrific tests he carried out on you? Do you want me to say I wish my uncle had sent me to you sooner? Is that what you want from me?”

I’m trying to keep my expression blank, but it’s taking everything in me to do so. I haven’t seen him so emotional since before he turned into cold Ward. But there’s nothing cold about him now. His eyes are burning, his hands are clenched and every line in his body is strained with tension.

It might make me a coward, or it might make me an angel, but either way, I don’t think either of us can handle taking this conversation further. Not right now. My headache has only increased during our discussion, and my temples are throbbing so painfully that it’s a miracle I can see straight.