construct before if it were associated with twins.
There was only one other explanation, and even considering it made her feel like she was going Conjuring on the situation.
It wasn’t like the ghost of a deceased Brother had taken up residence inside of him—and manifested that star-shaped scar on his pectoral.
That just was nuts.
I’m not sure what you’re talking about, John signed. But I really hope someday that …
You already are a Brother, she thought to herself.
She kept that to herself because the yearning in his face broke her heart—and made her angry at the Brotherhood. Why couldn’t those males just do the right thing? And not, like, fifty years from now or some shit. John was a helluva fighter. He deserved the recognition and the honor.
“Come on, let’s head to the safe house,” she said. “It’s cold out here.”
As Kraiten’s SUV slowed and the commando behind the wheel turned them in to a driveway, Sarah frowned out of the side window in back. They were about an hour outside of Ithaca, to the north, and the fact that she hadn’t been in the area before wasn’t a news flash. It wasn’t like she and Gerry had traveled a lot upstate.
Scratch the driveway part. This was more like a lane, the curving, plowed passage winding its way through snow-draped evergreens that crowded up close.
Some two or three hundred yards in, the definition of cozy made its postcard’d appearance, the brick house and its smoke-curled chimneys like someone had made a model for a Christmas ad.
Sarah looked down into her lap as the SUV stopped at the front walkway. The boy had tucked in and fallen asleep, his head a warm weight on her leg, his arms crossed, his hands folded under his chin. She had been tempted to offer him the hazmat suit as a blanket, but the heat was up high, and he’d been out like a light almost as soon as they’d hit the highway.
The fact that she was sublimely uncomfortable because her backpack was still on under the protective gear and the leg he was using as a pillow had gone numb didn’t matter in the slightest. All she cared about was that the child got some rest.
She was worried he had a fever. His skin felt hot.
“He’s sleeping hard,” the commando said softly.
She glanced at the driver. He had twisted around and was staring down at the child with a sadness that made her worry about what he was going to have to tell the boy. She wanted to ask if the mother was indeed dead, but she already knew the answer, and she didn’t want that conversation to be what woke the boy up.
“We need to get him to a doctor,” she whispered.
“We have people we use.”
“When are they coming?” She thought of those scans. “He’s been … experimented on.”
God, how had it all happened? Her brain just could not get wrapped around any of it. Had they abducted him? Or … had he been sold like a commodity? Born in the lab?
“And I need to use a phone. A landline.”
“Are you calling your mate?” the commando asked.
“Mate?” She shook her head. “Oh, sorry. No, I have no one I need to get in touch with for myself. But I have things the FBI needs to see.”
Except she wasn’t sure the boy was on that list. He had been through so much, and she wasn’t convinced that tossing him into the foster care system was a great plan if the father wasn’t an appropriate custodian. But maybe he had relatives. Nice, normal relatives, like an aunt or uncle, who had a house just like this one.
“Come on,” the commando said as he disembarked, “let’s get you both inside.”
The boy stirred when the man opened their door and cold air burst in. And then Sarah was reluctantly handing her precious load over to the commando because there was no way she could carry him up to that front door with her leg as numb as it was. And then she worried about him catching pneumonia from the cold—
He’d already had pneumonia, she reminded herself grimly. Two years ago.
Cursing to herself, she shuffled out and nearly fell when she put weight on her left foot. Before she could catch herself, the commando threw out a hand and grabbed her arm.
His strength was … astonishing. Even with the boy in his arms, he kept her from hitting the snowpack like she weighed nothing at all, his body not even