The Brightest Night (Origin #3) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,90

my wrists. “And there was nothing I could do then. That’s how I felt when you were sleeping. That there was nothing I could do but pray, and I don’t even know if there’s a God listening, but I prayed, Evie, because if I lost you again, I don’t know what I would do.”

Dampness clung to my lashes, seeped onto my cheeks. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t you dare apologize.” His eyes flew open. “You’ve done nothing wrong. You didn’t cause any of this.” He paused. “I caused this.”

“No, you didn’t,” I told him. “You didn’t cause this.”

His head tilted, and he stared at me for so long, before a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes appeared. “All of this started because of me and my choices.”

My fingers curled against his cheeks. “I don’t know if it started because of you.”

“Evie—”

“I dreamed something, but I don’t think it was a dream,” I rushed on. “It felt too real, like a memory, and if it was real, none of this started because of you.”

His brows furrowed as his stare turned questioning. “What did you dream?” He slowly brought my hands to the bed. “Or remember?”

Lowering my gaze, I watched him slip his hands off my wrists as I told him what I’d dreamed, everything from the spot on the floor to my mom telling me that I wouldn’t remember any of what happened, not even him. The only part I left out was the suspicion that I might’ve killed my father. At some point, he rocked back, and when I glanced up, he sat stiffly, his jaw a hard, unforgiving line.

“They would’ve sent someone else if for whatever reason you and I didn’t … I don’t know, become friends or whatever.” I, too, sat back, leaning into the cushions. My gaze flicked to the ceiling fan. It was still. “I think I was sought out by Jason Dasher because of my uncanny resemblance to his daughter. At least that’s the impression Mom gave me, and if my father and Jason had known each other, it’s plausible Dasher would’ve seen me before.”

Luc was quiet, but I could feel his eyes on me.

“Do you really think it’s possible that they made me sick? I mean, considering what they are capable of, it doesn’t seem impossible, but…”

“But if they did, it would be a whole new level they have sunk to,” he said. “You didn’t get sick right away. It was a couple of years. How they could’ve exposed you to something like that would be difficult to narrow down. Neither Paris nor I watched you 24–7. It could’ve been at the club or a store or when you were out taking pictures by yourself. They could’ve put something in the damn water in the house. Paris and I wouldn’t have gotten sick.”

It all felt almost too much to consider, but I had to. “I don’t understand why they would’ve let it go on so long if all of this was a way to control you. They could’ve waved that serum in your face at any time and you would’ve done anything. I could’ve died before you brought me to them, and then what?”

“I can’t answer that,” Luc said after a few moments. “There has to be a reason they waited and took that risk.”

It would’ve been a huge risk. All that time and effort they put into Luc and me cultivating a friendship that would lead Luc to defy all logic could’ve been lost if I’d died. “I don’t know. Maybe what I dreamed was just a dream—”

“Your father’s name was Alan.”

A shiver swirled down my spine as my gaze shot to his. I didn’t know what to say at first. “It was?”

Luc nodded. “And he was in the military, but I never discovered any relation to Jason Dasher. Those records could’ve been expunged. There wasn’t a lot to be found about him other than his rather vast work history. The man couldn’t keep a job longer than a few months.”

“Alan?” I gave a little shake of my head as I returned to staring at my hands where they now rested in my lap. “That’s his name. Should I feel something learning that? Like relief or dread? It’s the name of my father, my real father, and I feel nothing.”

“You don’t remember him, Peaches. That’s a name of a stranger,” he said, angling his body toward mine. “You don’t need to feel anything.”

“And maybe it’s better that way, like not remembering my time at the