open main room. Along with the night, a strange sort of hush had fallen over everything. It wasn’t silent, by any means—machinery hummed near the loading dock, busily replicating and coding the Devils’ DNA in raw organic material, and murmuring voices echoed strangely off the high ceiling and bare walls.
But it felt peaceful, somehow. Serene. Or maybe that was just her, her conscience and her heart both appeased by the fact that she’d finally gotten off her ass and done something.
Conall and Luna were hard at work, making the necessary modifications to the implants Ava had procured, while Maya looked on, observing and offering suggestions. Gray sat nearby, silent and watchful. Rafe had retired to his room for some sleep, and Dani had claimed a battered reclining chair not far from the stairs. She had the footrest up, and was staring at exposed beams overhead.
Only Knox was in constant motion, pacing beside the DNA vats as they churned. Nina filled a second mug and carried it to him.
“Coffee,” she said as he glanced down at her offering. “Normally, I’d say you don’t need it. But desperate times call for desperate measures.”
He accepted the mug with a tight smile. “Smells like the real stuff.”
“I figured we could use it.” God, she sounded breathless. “Just like you could use a break.”
“I could.” He hesitated, glancing around the room. His gaze caught on Ava, who was seated in the corner, seemingly absorbed in the tablet balanced on her crossed legs. “You want to step outside?”
“Lead the way.”
He moved with that same restrained energy, pacing to the door on the far wall. He held it open for Nina, then followed her out into the humid night air.
There was a covered patio outside, just big enough for a rickety wooden table and a few chairs. Nina sank into one and looked around, trying to shake the chill that raised goose bumps on her arms.
Finally, she gave up. “It’s strange, isn’t it? Being in a place you know won’t exist in a few days? It’s like walking over graves.”
“In more ways than one.” Knox settled into the chair next to her and set his mug on the edge of the rickety table. “I’m okay burying Captain Garrett Knox in there, though. Maybe all of us need that.”
“I don’t know, I kind of liked him. What I knew, anyway.”
Knox was silent for a long time before he shook his head. “You never really met him. The Protectorate captain, I mean. Rafe told me to lie to you with the truth, and that was what I did. I pretended to be the man I used to be … until I realized I wasn’t pretending anymore.”
“So tell me about him.” Help me understand.
Knox shifted. Exhaled softly. “My father’s name was Gregor. He was a contractor who worked in real estate development. Those first years after the Flares hit him hard. His mother died of heatstroke the first summer, and he lost his sister in the food riots. His husband—” Knox’s voice hitched. “I don’t really remember my other dad. I was only a few years old when he died. Gregor Knox could have turned into a bitter man, but he didn’t. He was like you. He believed people could be good, and it was our job to put goodness out into the world. To help others.”
Nina clenched her fingers around her mug to still their trembling. “What happened to him?”
“Bandits.” The word was flat with anger, barely repressed after all this time. “Not even an organized gang like the one in Dalton. Just a couple toughs with stolen guns and big ideas. They tried to rob the butcher while my dad was there fixing her solar generator. He got in front of her and…”
“I’m sorry.” It was a common story, violence rendered casual and unremarkable because of its regularity. Devastating to the lives it touched, and a mere curiosity to those it didn’t. A cautionary tale. “How old were you?”
“Fifteen.” Knox’s sudden laugh was pained. “The perfect age. Young enough to feel lost without him, old enough to feel like I should have been there to save him.”
“So you joined the Protectorate.” Her heart ached as she considered it—a kid, desperate for someone to make him strong, turn him into the kind of hero who could have saved his father. “When did you realize heroics weren’t high on their list of priorities?”
“Not at first.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “I was one of the first they used the latest generation of