The Brightest Night (Origin #3) - Jennifer L. Armentrout

1

“Jason Dasher.”

The name thundered through the room as I stared at the broken shards of glass from the bottle General Eaton had thrown.

I stood there, stuck in absolute disbelief, watching the amber liquid seep over papers littering the floor. Some looked like junk mail from when Houston was a bustling city. A brightly colored advertisement for a new furniture store opening downtown. A blue pack of coupons never opened. White envelopes with the word urgent in red written on them. All were evidence of a life left behind by whoever had once called this building home before the electromagnetic pulse bombs were dropped, rendering the city habitable only by those desperate enough to remain hidden in a dead zone.

Had the owners evacuated, or were they lost in the chaos that followed the EMPs like so many hundreds of thousands?

Why was I even thinking about any of that? Someone’s mail wasn’t the most pressing concern. It was like my brain shorted out at the mention of his name.

Sergeant Jason Dasher.

The masses knew him as the fallen war hero, a patriotic icon lost in the war protecting mankind against the invading Luxen. I’d once been a part of those masses, but I’d since learned the truth. Dasher was an evil man responsible for horrific experiments on both humans and aliens, all in the name of the “greater good.”

But he was an evil, dead man.

Nothing more than a ghost I couldn’t remember, because his wife had shot him. The same woman I’d believed to be my mother up until I’d learned I wasn’t really Evelyn Dasher but a girl named Nadia Holliday. Which was roughly around the same time I’d gotten smacked upside the head with the knowledge mother dearest was also a Luxen.

Sylvia had married a man responsible for forced pregnancies between Luxen and humans, nonconsensual mutations, kidnappings, murders, and the subjugation of her own people. Not only that, she had worked for the institution responsible.

The Daedalus.

A secret organization that existed within the Department of Defense, one that had started out with the task of assimilating the Luxen into the human populace long before the public knew the aliens even existed. They’d studied the Luxen’s unique biological attributes that not only made them resistant to every human illness but also enabled them to heal any number of physical injuries a human could suffer. The Daedalus sought to use the knowledge gained to better the life of millions, but all of that had gone sideways fast.

I still had no idea how to come to terms with any of that. I didn’t think I’d ever truly be able to, but the fact it had been her who’d ended his life had helped.

A little.

She’d shot Dasher when he’d attempted to renege on the deal—the bargain that saved my life and robbed me of it in the same breath. The Andromeda serum had cured the cancer that had been killing me, but it had stolen my memories of who I used to be.

And it had turned me into … well, a thing I had learned was called a Trojan. Something that couldn’t exactly be classified as just human.

Right now, that little factoid was taking a back seat to the latest are you freaking kidding me breaking news.

Jason Dasher was alive.

A dull ache flared in the pit of my stomach as I shook my head. I tried to take the next logical step that said Eaton wasn’t the type of person to have misspoken, but my brain was so overloaded with all that had happened. And holy drama llama, a lot had happened in the last couple of months.

Jason Dasher was alive, and that wasn’t even the most messed-up part of it all. I was coded to answer to him like I were nothing more than a computer responding to commands. A dead man who was now alive. A man who was a monster and could seize control of me at any moment.

“Impossible,” a low voice growled.

Heart turning over heavily, I looked to my right. He stood beside me, not just any Origin—a child of a Luxen and a hybrid—but one who was more powerful than even the strongest Luxen.

Luc.

He had a last name now, one that he’d picked after I’d argued that just because the Daedalus never gave him a last name didn’t mean he couldn’t have one. He’d chosen the surname King, because of course he would, but Luc King sounded good—sounded right. And I’d just been happy that he’d given himself one, because the lack