“In a lab somewhere,” Alex says quietly, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
“Do you think the raids in Gutter Zone 3 are real?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
“They’re real,” Cade says grimly. “Marco’s getting bolder. He doesn’t even care about being subtle anymore.”
I lean back, staring out at the snow-covered landscape. During my years under Marco’s control, I was kept completely isolated from news, from any information about the outside world. He preferred his “assets” ignorant and compliant. Now that I can hear these broadcasts, each one is more disturbing than the last. The systematic disappearances, the propaganda disguised as news, the casual way they discuss human lives like inventory.
“It’s getting worse out there,” I murmur.
“That is exactly why this mission matters,” Alex says, and I lean forward to study his profile. There’s an intensity there that wasn’t present before. Maybe it’s pre-mission jitters, or maybe something’s going on with him.
My power has been evolvingat an unprecedented rate since I went through Bash’s experiment, and now, training with Avidian vials through those masks, I’m starting to feel something I haven’t felt in years, genuine hope. We can really do this. We can take down Marco and Orin and dismantle the entire Volkov operation one lab at a time. The thought should terrify me, going up against the people who owned me, who broke me, who turned me into a weapon. Instead, I feel this fierce determination burning in my chest.
Once we expose the labs and rescue whoever’s left alive in those nightmarish facilities, we can start the real work. Weeding out the Syndicate members who are looking for power, who want to replace one corrupt system with another. Then we strike at the heart of it all. Irina’s fate may be the same as her brothers’—a necessary casualty in this war. Or maybe she’ll surprise us all and start supporting Malachi the right way, not as a tool for her own ambitions but as the leader he’s meant to be. Unlikely, but I’m not entirely ruling it out yet. People can change when their world collapses around them.
I rub at my growling stomach, still hungry despite trying to ignore it. All I managed for dinner was a bowl of cereal with that awful synthetic milk that tastes like chalk mixed with water. The communal dining area was buzzing with conversation and laughter—Aurora trying to convince Nasha to let her braid her hair, Cade and Dante arguing about weapon maintenance techniques, Alex making everyone laugh with some story I couldn’t quite catch from the hallway.
But I didn’t feel like joining them tonight. Sometimes, the weight of what we’re planning, what I’m asking them all to risk, sits so heavy on my shoulders that I need space to breathe. Lately, I’ve caught them looking at me differently, not like I’m part of the team anymore but like they expect me to have answers I don’t have. Malachi is our leader, he’s the one with the vision and the strategic mind, but sometimes, I see them turning to me first when things get complicated.
It makes me uncomfortable. I never asked to be seen that way, and I’m not sure I’m built for it. Most days, I feel like I’m guessing and hoping I don’t get us all killed. Tonight, I needed solitude to practice my gift and to read more of that scientist’s journal about the Viridian girl, the first Avid.
When I spoke to her, she said “Avid” wasn’t even a term that existed in her time. Makes me wonder when that wordcame into use, who decided that’s what we’d be called. Was it the scientists who created more like her? The government officials who decided we were dangerous? Or did we choose it for ourselves somehow? The girl in those journal entries… There’s something about her story that feels familiar in a way I can’t explain. I want to get to the bottom of how we are related.
I pull on my favorite nightgown and braid my hair to the side, muscle memory guiding my fingers through the familiar motions. It’s something my mother used to do for me when I was small, before everything went wrong. Strange how these little rituals can carry so much comfort.
Climbing onto the bed, I’m immediately reminded of how empty it feels without Malachi here. The mattress doesn’t dip on his side, and there’s no warm body to curl up against, no steady heartbeat to fall asleep to. I miss the way he unconsciously reaches for me in his sleep, pulling me closer even when he’s dreaming. I miss his terrible jokes and the way he hums under his breath when he thinks no one’s listening. Three days shouldn’t feel like an eternity, but when you’ve found your person—your home—their absence echoes in every quiet moment.
I lean back against the headboard and pull the gray cotton sheets up to my chest, the fabric soft from countless washes. The room is quiet except for the distant hum of the building’s ventilation system and the occasional sound of footsteps in the hallway. Everyone’s settling in for the night, preparing for another day of training tomorrow, another step closer to a mission that could change everything or destroy us all.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, centering myself the way Bash taught me. It’s time to focus. Time to push my abilities further, to see what these enhanced powers can really do. The journal can wait. I need to understand what I’m becoming.
Chapter Twenty-Three
LOG TWENTY-THREE – TRIAL INCONSISTENCY: THE VACCINE TRIALS ARE NOT PROGRESSING. EQUIPMENT FAILS ONLY WHEN SHE IS PRESENT. NO DIRECT EVIDENCE LINKS HER, BUT THE PATTERN IS UNDENIABLE.
I takedeep breaths and center myself, deciding to start with something easy, something safe. I focus on Mischka until she appears, which only takes a split second since summoning her is like second nature to me now. She does a few little ghostly zoomies on the end of the bed, and then comes to sit in front of me.
“Okay, girl, I’m going to make you less of a spirit and more substantial for a minute, and when I do, I want you to take the ball,” I tell her, and she stares up at me.
I close my eyes and reach out, touching her cool form and focusing on strengthening her spirit. I can’t bring anyone back from the dead—that’s a gift I don’t think anyone has, unfortunately—but I can make her spirit more substantial for a short time, more tangible in this world. Kind of like what I did with the spirits in the ballroom, though I still don’t know if Meadow had anything to do with that or how I managed to summon that many ghosts at once.
I shake my head and square my shoulders, focusing on Mish again until the cool form beneath my fingertipshardens and I feel her soft fur. My eyes shoot open, and I can’t help the stupid grin that spreads across my face.
I pick up the ball and throw it to the end of the bed. She chases after it, picks it up, drops it back next to me, jumps in my lap, and starts licking my face. I feel wet kisses, a warm tongue, and wet nose on my cheek. I wrap my arms around her and kiss the top of her head. She feels completely real—solid, warm, alive.
She stays like that for a solid two minutes before she starts flickering in and out, then eventually returns to her translucent form. I think that’s the longest I’ve been able to maintain it without any fading in and out.
It’s weird, you’d think if I could make the spirits stay more tangible, anyone would be able to see them, but that hasn’t been the case yet. But making them more tangible gives them the ability to touch others, to kill others. I need to sustain it for longer and either only summon spirits I trust or find a way to make them do my bidding like in the ballroom.
Only, I didn’t want them to kill everyone at the party… Maybe subconsciously I did.
Fuck, I wish I knew how I did that and if Meadow had anything to do with it. I need to replicate that kind of power. Maybe I need to be under more dire circumstances for my body to react that way. It’s also possible the strength of the spirit has something to do with it, because Damien has always felt stronger to me, and he was the first who was able to touch me before I ever went through Bash’s equipment.
I continue practicing with Mish over and over again until my head is pounding. The last time, I was able to keep her with me in her tangible form for ten solid minutes—a new record. But the headache is getting worse, a sharp throbbing behind my eyes that warns me I’m pushing too hard.
I let Mish fade back to her ghostly form, and rub mytemples. This power evolution is incredible, but it’s also exhausting in ways I didn’t expect. Each breakthrough comes with new questions, new possibilities that are both thrilling and terrifying. The idea that I could command an army of spirits and make them solid enough to affect the physical world is exactly the kind of ability that could help us on this mission.
But it’s also the kind of power that could consume me if I’m not careful.
