Chapter 22 - What Noah's Blood Meant
Ethan was strapped to a chair beneath a white medical light.
Blood covered his shirt.
Noah was behind him.
Alive.
Awake.
Terrified.
I ran toward them.
Dad caught my shoulder.
“Wait.”
“That's my son.”
“Look at the room.”
I forced myself to stop.
Two cameras.
One observation window.
A speaker in the ceiling.
A metal table.
No visible guards.
No Leah.
No Diane.
No Robert.
“That means it's a trap,” Richard said.
I looked at Ethan.
He raised his head.
“Camila.”
His voice was broken.
I stepped closer.
“Are you hurt?”
“Don't come closer.”
“Ethan—”
“Please.”
Noah started crying.
“Mommy.”
I nearly lost control.
Dad moved around the room, checking corners.
Richard examined the cameras.
I whispered, “Ethan, what happened?”
Ethan swallowed.
“They took blood.”
“Whose?”
His eyes moved toward Noah.
“His.”
I looked at my son.
Noah's little arm had a bandage wrapped around it.
My vision blurred.
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“What did they tell you?”
“That his blood proves something.”
“Proves what?”
Ethan shook his head.
“They kept saying the same word.”
“What word?”
“Activation.”
The room suddenly felt smaller.
I looked at Dad.
He had stopped moving.
“Dad?”
He stared at Noah.
“That's impossible.”
Richard stepped toward him.
“Michael.”
Dad ignored him.
“What?”
Dad's voice cracked.
“The program wasn't supposed to use children.”
Richard said nothing.
“Dad.”
He finally looked at me.
“Carter Ridge had three phases.”
“I know.”
“No. You know what they told you.”
He pointed to the bandage on Noah's arm.
“Phase One studied memory.”
“Phase Two studied attachment.”
“And Phase Three?”
He looked toward the observation window.
“Biological response.”
My stomach turned.
“What kind of response?”
Richard answered.
“Children born to subjects.”
I stared at him.
“Ethan and I weren't subjects.”
“Not officially.”
“Then how did they get Noah?”
Richard's eyes shifted.
“Because they tracked your family.”
A door opened behind us.
We all turned.
Elena walked into the room.
My mother.
Alive.
Older than the photograph.
Thinner.
Her hair streaked with silver.
She looked at Dad.
He didn't move.
Neither did she.
Then she looked at me.
“Camila.”
I ran to her.
She caught me.
And for twelve years of grief, rage, confusion, and longing, there was only one thing left inside me.
I cried.
She held me tightly.
“I am sorry.”
I couldn't speak.
“You let me believe you were dead.”
“I had to.”
“You had to let me bury you.”
“Yes.”
“You had to let me hate you.”
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
I pulled away.
“I hate you anyway.”
She nodded.
“You should.”
Dad stepped forward.
“Elena.”
She looked at him.
The room went silent.
He whispered, “Why?”
She looked down.
“Because every person who loved me became a target.”
“You could have trusted me.”
“I did.”
“Then why didn't you come home?”
“Because home was where they were looking.”
Dad's jaw tightened.
“You left us.”
“I left you alive.”
“No.”
His voice rose.
“You left me to raise our daughter while believing you'd been murdered.”
Elena flinched.
“I know.”
“You didn't know what that did to me.”
“I did.”
“You didn't know what it did to her.”
“I did.”
He stared at her.
“Then why?”
She looked at Noah.
“Because they had already marked him.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
Elena stepped toward him.
“They marked him before he was born.”
I shook my head.
“How?”
“Through you.”
My stomach dropped.
She touched my shoulder.
“The scar.”
I pulled away.
“What does the scar have to do with Noah?”
“That wasn't punishment.”
“Then what was it?”
“A marker.”
Silence.
Richard closed his eyes.
“Elena.”
She nodded.
“They embedded a biological identifier.”
My legs felt weak.
“What did they put in me?”
“A protein sequence.”
“Why?”
“So they could recognize your descendants.”
I stared at her.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“That's why Leah went after Noah.”
“Yes.”
“And Ethan?”
“He discovered the truth.”
Ethan laughed bitterly.
“Not until it was too late.”
I turned toward him.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I tried.”
“You lied.”
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
I looked at him.
“You all use that excuse.”
Nobody answered.
Noah whispered, “Mommy.”
I ran to him.
Dad released the restraints.
The second his arms were free, Ethan stood and nearly collapsed.
Dad caught him.
“I've got you.”
Ethan looked at him.
“You should have told me.”
Dad stared at him.
“What?”
“That I was raising your daughter.”
Dad's expression changed.
“What did you say?”
Ethan looked at me.
“I knew who you were before we met.”
My breath caught.
“What?”
“I knew Michael was your father.”
Dad stepped closer.
“How?”
Ethan swallowed.
“Carter gave me your file.”
I stared at him.
“You came into my life because of Carter?”
“No.”
His voice shook.
“I stayed because I fell in love with you.”
A slow clap echoed from the observation room.
Leah appeared behind the glass.
She held a tablet.
“And that,” she said through the speaker, “is exactly why the experiment failed.”
I stepped toward the glass.
“You.”
She smiled.
“You finally understand.”
Dad raised his weapon.
Leah laughed.
“You can't shoot through reinforced glass.”
He lowered it slightly.
“Then open the door.”
“I already did.”
A red light above us turned on.
Richard looked at the monitor.
“Michael.”
“What?”
He pointed at Noah.
“The blood draw wasn't the test.”
I looked at him.
“What was?”
Richard's face went white.
“The test is about to begin.”
The lights went out.
Noah screamed.
And from somewhere deep inside the facility, a woman began counting.
“Three.”
“Two.”
May you like
“One.”
A door slammed shut between me and my son.
