I’d been listening to the conversation around me while watching the screen. Matthew had been ready to speak until Roman pulled him aside and the two began talking privately. My gut had a sudden queasy feeling that Matthew was of sound mind and knew Roman too well.
After Matthew nodded at Roman, he went up to the podium once again. “My name is Matthew, and what you’ve heard so far is true. Vampires have coexisted among humans for centuries. But what you don’t know is, those vampires were born with a recessive gene, which means pure humans can’t turn into one of them by drinking their blood. What you read in books and see on TV shows is folklore. I know firsthand because my ancestors were vampires.”
“I can’t tell if Matthew is trying to help us by reducing mass hysteria or if he’s helping Roman and Adam in some way,” Tripp said.
“Doesn’t matter. It’s still not going to stop anarchy,” my father added.
“Matthew, are you a vampire?” Tim Cox asked.
“I am, but I wasn’t born with the recessive gene. I was made in a lab,” Matthew replied. “But I’m considered a success because I have the right DNA markers to become inhuman.”
No lie there.
“Is anyone getting the feeling Matthew is there of his own free will?” Webb asked.
“He doesn’t seem robotic or under duress like he has a chip in his head,” I said.
When I had a chip attached to my brain, I’d been a monster programmed to kill, and not of sound mind. But maybe if Matthew had that BMI device in his skull, it was programmed for him to say whatever Adam and Roman wanted him to say.
Matthew squared his shoulders as his fangs elongated, his blue eyes swirling to black.
Screams and squeals blared through the speakers as reporters scurried down the steps and away from Matthew, with the exception of Tim Cox and the brunette from CBC 4. Both looked shocked and awed but didn’t seem afraid.
I dug my elbows into my knees, watching a horror movie—or what seemed like one. Even more so when Rianne traded places with Matthew.
She waved her hands. “Folks, no need to be afraid. He’s not going to hurt you. If you don’t believe anything you’ve heard or seen so far, I would like to drive a point home.”
The murmurs from the fearful crowd died down as I gritted my teeth.
Rianne glanced into the camera as a tear slid down her cheek.
I rolled my eyes. “This should be one for the books.”
“Adam mentioned that the military vampires are holding his brother. Well, they’ve also taken my sisters.” She sniffled. “That’s why I’ve signed up. I want to fight them. I want to save my sisters.”
“Oh my fucking God,” I shouted.
“Who are you?” Tim Cox asked. “And are you like Matthew?”
“My name is Rianne Aberdeen. My family has hunted vampires for centuries. I know how to kill them, but as a human, I don’t stand a chance against someone as powerful as Sam Mason. That’s why I’m a willing participant. And no, I’ve not made the change yet. But I will. I have to. My older sister, Layla, has been compelled by Sam Mason to fall in love with him. She’s even pregnant by him. My grandmother is distraught over this. Layla, if you’re listening, please come home. Granny needs you.Ineed you.” She dashed a tear away.
I flew off the chair, roaring as I lunged for the table and threw the fucking thing across the room.
Webb, Tripp, and Sawyer surrounded me.
“I hope what you’ve heard and seen demonstrated today helps you understand the need for a like-minded enemy,” Adam said. “To build prototypes like Matthew, we’re looking for those humans who have any type of supernatural ancestors in their lineage. If you fall into that category and want to make a difference in protecting humanity, call the number on the bottom of your screen. We’re giving each individual one hundred thousand dollars as a signing bonus.”
I pushed through my comrades. The need to kill Rianne Aberdeen burned through my veins hotter than ever before. “I need to see my wife and kids.”
If I thought my father would blow the roof off the building, I was wrong. I would be the one to cause mass destruction.
7
SAM
Ababy’s cry, a balm to my frayed nerves, echoed in the hallway as I passed the scrub room on my way to the birthing suites.
No sooner than I’d bolted out of the war room, Jo had texted me that Layla and my kids were doing well.
