it. He knew. Maybe not every detail of my missing memories, but he’d known that I’d killed someone. Of course he had. He’d been in my head, communicating remotely through some kind of special transmitter. It was Lucas who had kept me from shooting again. He’d stopped me from murdering Daniel. My own—Sarah’s own—father.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Lucas’s fingers slipped from my shoulder. “Damn,” he muttered.
Even though he looked so vulnerable with that gash on his forehead, rage flared within my synthetic heart. The feeling was a welcome respite, a chance to push away the helpless gut twist of guilt and replace it with something powerful.
“I trusted you! I thought you were different, but you’re just like everyone else. How could you hide that from me?”
Lucas backed away to give me some space. “I understand why you feel betrayed, and I’m sorry. I didn’t withhold any information to upset you, I promise. It’s just the opposite.” He dragged his hands down his face while he gathered his thoughts. “Look, there was so much I didn’t know, and it didn’t feel right, sharing details with you that weren’t fully connected or in a context I could understand. I was afraid letting you in on the fragments I did know would be too confusing.”
I didn’t need my android features to know he was being honest. And everything he said fit. Lucas evaluated, assessed, but he never intentionally inflicted pain. Every risk he’d taken had been prompted by his desire to help me.
Anger. I’d allowed Quinn to persuade me that other feelings equaled powerlessness, while anger meant control. I’d played right into her trap. Or was it fair to call it a trap?
She’d offered me an opportunity to be just like Three and I’d jumped at the chance. I’d been too wrapped up in my own pain to consider the consequences. In my attempt to escape the role of victim, I’d stepped into the role of monster.
My chin fell to my chest and tears trickled down my cheeks, one after the other. A saline solution, manufactured to appear human. Which clearly I wasn’t. No amount of organic material or borrowed emotion could change the fact that I had lived up to Holland’s prime directive.
I was a weapon already—pure and simple.
“Why did you help me? Knowing what I’d done . . .”
“Hey. Hey,” Lucas repeated, more firmly the second time. “Look at me.”
He waited while I got myself under control. I swallowed a jagged sob and lifted my face. He peered into my eyes, focusing on my anguish.
“Even in the best of situations, good people sometimes make bad choices. Life-altering ones that you can’t take back,” he began. “In the worst of situations . . . well, you can imagine. Quinn saw a way to exploit your weaknesses.”
“So what? I’m not responsible? This is all her fault and I’m off the hook?”
“No, that’s not what I’m trying to say,” Lucas replied, hands up. He hesitated. “Okay, be honest. Do you blame me for Nicole’s death?”
I let out a surprised gasp. “No, of course not. You tried to save us.”
“Later, though. Not right away,” he countered. “I was the one who helped proctor the tests, right? What if I’d tried to get you two out sooner? What if I’d never agreed to the assignment? Maybe Holland would have had a hard time finding someone else, and that could have bought you time? What if I’m guilty, merely by giving in to him?”
“But you did the best you could,” I said. “Holland leveraged your family against you. He didn’t leave you much choice.”
He studied me intently for a moment, as if waiting. “Exactly.”
I glanced away, my eyes damp once again.
“We do the best that we can, Mila. If our choices turn out to have unintended consequences, then next time, we choose better. We grow and learn from our mistakes. And try to treat ourselves kindly along the way. That’s what people do.”
People. Not machines.
My situation wasn’t like his at all. I had known Peyton would die when I pointed the gun at him and released the trigger. I just didn’t—or couldn’t—care.
My mouth filled with an acrid taste and the ache in my chest expanded. Still, I managed to rise to my feet. The scenery remained the same—snow-covered trees, blue sky peppered with clouds, harsh slices of rock reaching upward. Yet somehow, the serenity had been stripped away.
“Ready to go back?”
Lucas blotted his forehead with his coat sleeve and nodded. I didn’t want to keep him from