Chapter 31 - The Bait
“Your son wasn't the experiment.”
My mother's voice barely existed above a whisper.
“He was the bait.”
For one second, nobody moved.
Then Ethan lunged toward the darkened nursery.
“Noah!”
I followed him so fast my shoulder slammed into the doorframe.
The room was empty.
The window was still open.
Cold night air moved the curtains in slow, useless waves.
My son was gone.
I stepped inside and looked at the floor again.
The bloodstain.
The rabbit.
The note.
THE ORIGINAL WAKES.
Dad entered behind us, weapon raised.
He scanned the corners.
“Windows. Hallway. Closet.”
“Already checked,” Ethan snapped.
“Check again.”
Ethan tore through the closet while Dad moved toward the window.
Leah stood frozen at the threshold.
Samuel was nowhere in sight.
Neither was Daniel.
Robert was on the floor outside the room with Ethan's knee having pinned him moments earlier, but he had disappeared during the chaos.
Diane held her weapon with both hands.
“Where is Samuel?”
Nobody answered.
I picked up Noah's rabbit.
My son's warmth should have been somewhere in the fabric.
Instead it felt cold.
Far too cold.
I held it against my chest.
“Mom.”
Elena looked at me.
I had never seen my mother look afraid of me before.
Not until that moment.
“What does C-14 mean?”
She swallowed.
“Not here.”
I stared at her.
“My son has been kidnapped.”
“I know.”
“Then don't tell me not here.”
Dad turned from the window.
“She means we need to move.”
“Move where?”
He looked toward the hallway.
“Below.”
My stomach tightened.
“The facility?”
“There's an access point underneath this house.”
I laughed once, but there was nothing funny in it.
“We just destroyed it.”
Dad's expression didn't change.
“No. We destroyed the part they wanted us to see.”
Leah stepped into the room.
“That screen wasn't supposed to activate.”
Dad looked at her.
“You're sure?”
“I've worked around Carter architecture for years. That display was dormant. It only came online after she shut down the network.”
I looked at the screen.
WELCOME BACK, C-14.
“Why me?”
Leah hesitated.
“Because you aren't the replacement for C-13.”
“Then what am I?”
She looked at my mother.
Elena closed her eyes.
“A correction.”
The word made the room feel smaller.
“What does that mean?”
My mother wiped her cheeks.
“Your father and I were told the Carter program could predict human behavior. Then they wanted more. They wanted to influence choices.”
Dad's jaw tightened.
“They wanted soldiers who couldn't disobey.”
“And they couldn't control me,” I said.
“No.”
Mom looked at the scar on my arm.
“So they stopped trying to control you.”
I stared at her.
“And built something that could control anyone through me.”
Leah nodded.
“That's the anchor.”
A deep vibration came from beneath our feet.
Everyone froze.
Another vibration followed.
Then another.
Three pulses.
My scar burned.
No.
Not burned.
Answered.
I dropped the rabbit.
The lights in the hallway flickered.
A tiny red light appeared beneath the floor vent.
Dad grabbed my arm.
“Back.”
The vent exploded upward.
A metal capsule shot through the opening and landed on the floor.
Ethan aimed his weapon.
“Don't touch it.”
The capsule clicked.
My mother's face drained of color.
“Oh God.”
The shell opened.
Inside was a child's shoe.
Blue.
Small.
A little bigger than Noah's.
My breathing stopped.
There was writing on the sole.
NOAH — 6 YEARS
Ethan stepped closer.
“That's not his shoe.”
I knew it before he said it.
“No.”
Dad looked at Leah.
“What is that?”
Leah crouched without touching the capsule.
“Archived tissue marker.”
“For what?”
She stared at the shoe.
“For children who were used to establish behavioral anchors.”
My throat closed.
“How many children?”
Leah looked up.
“Thirty-seven.”
Silence.
My mother started crying.
I turned toward her.
“You knew.”
“I knew there were children.”
“You knew?”
“I didn't know Noah was being targeted.”
“You knew enough to be afraid.”
Mom couldn't answer.
Dad stepped between us.
“We have to go.”
I shoved his arm away.
“You knew too.”
“Yes.”
The admission hit harder than denial would have.
My own father.
A four-star general.
The man who had spent years telling me he had protected our family.
“You knew there was a facility beneath our house.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Carter had something connected to me.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Noah might be bait.”
His voice dropped.
“I suspected.”
I stared at him.
“You suspected?”
“I had evidence.”
“Where?”
He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a folded envelope.
“My father gave me this before he died.”
I took it.
The paper was yellowed.
Old.
My fingers shook as I opened it.
Inside was a single photograph.
A hospital room.
My mother was in a bed.
My father stood beside her.
And between them was a newborn baby.
Me.
But there was something wrong.
A man stood in the background.
A Carter insignia was visible on his jacket.
And beneath the photograph, in my father's handwriting, were four words.
SHE WAS NEVER BORN FREE.
I looked up.
“What did you do to me?”
Dad's eyes filled with something I had never seen there.
Shame.
Before he could answer, my mother's phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
Dad grabbed it.
“Don't answer.”
Mom did.
A child's voice came through.
Soft.
Terrified.
“Mom?”
My heart stopped.
I grabbed the phone.
“Noah?”
Static.
Then his voice again.
“Mom, don't come looking for me.”
I nearly collapsed.
“Baby, where are you?”
He whispered.
“They said you'd come.”
“Who?”
A pause.
Then a man spoke.
Young.
Calm.
C-13.
“No, they said you'd choose him.”
My blood went cold.
“What do you want?”
“I don't want anything.”
He laughed softly.
“Carter wants to know whether you'll make the same choice your mother made.”
The line went dead.
Dad was already moving.
“Underground.”
I looked at my mother.
“What choice?”
She looked at the photograph in my hand.
May you like
And whispered:
“The one that got your first father killed.”
