I never asked how my mum got on Stone’s radar. Back when they were taking kids, it was mostly from the family of FISA agents because OI is petty and vindictive like that. Snow didn’t say anything about her being an agent, which I figured she would have done at some point since I joined the agency. But I didn’t allow myself to linger on the fact that the other children OI was experimenting on were the kids of their own agents.
So it isn’t beyond the realms of possibility to me that my mum was an OI scientist. It’s not like it even matters now who she was. She’s dead, has been for over a decade. If Stone is looking to goad me by mentioning her, he’s gonna be disappointed because I locked up and buried all thoughts of caring about who my mum was years ago. I dug down deep and stuck it right next to the box stamped, “Who was my dad?” I just assumed that OI killed him too if he was ever around to begin with.
Stone looks at me with his cold, black eyes, and there’s something in them that gives me genuine pause. I’ve only beenin the same room as Stone a couple dozen times over the years, and he rarely paid any attention to me unless he was asking a direct question, which wasn’t often, and it was always about a mission. He never got personal with me, not like this.
“You and Daniel look like her,” Stone says, still just staring into my face, like he’s trying to laser print something across my forehead. “Blond and green eyed. But you got my height and my jawline.” His mouth splits into a deceptively charming smile. It’s stretched too tight over his face, performative, like he’s trying to hide fangs underneath. “Plus, I’ve always thought our noses are the same.” He leans forward a little, eyes boring into me, asking, “What do you think, Jack?”
There’s a handful of seconds where the implication fails to compute inside my brain. I understand all the words he just used and what order they’re meant to go in and how they make sense on an intellectual level. But I can’t let the information he’s telling me land. I can’t allow myself to absorb it and accept it because if I do, I don’t know what the fuck I’ll be capable of afterward.
All I can think is that I can’t—I can’t—put Leo in danger by charging at Stone and punching my fist through his chest. If Stone doesn’t kill Leo with a bullet, I’m almost certain Rohan will follow whatever orders he was given, presumably before we even rescued him.
We were so stupid. Of course, they dosed Rohan up with the blue drug; why the hell wouldn’t they? Did we even actually rescue Rohan from that facility, or did theylet ustake him?
It’s bloody obvious to me now that Rohan was the one who led OI to FISA’s underground base. He probably helped them bypass all of FISA’s security to get in without tipping us off that they were coming.
At the very least, we should have considered the possibility. When Snow finds out about this, if the totalitarian ice queenis still alive, she’s going to blow a gasket over this ridiculous oversight.
“Jack!” Leo says again, stronger this time, a definite snap at the end like a stick breaking over someone’s knee. It penetrates the fog surrounding my mind, reaching out a hand to lead me through the confusion I’ve been allowing myself to hide in.
I don’t need to ask Stone to clarify, because I understand, of course I do, but I ask anyway, because I have to, because it doesn’t feel real, because it feels too real, because of course that’s who he is, how could the life I’ve led so far allow for anything else?
“Whatdid you just say?” I growl at Stone, stepping closer when all my instincts are screaming at me to retreat, to run as far and as fast as I can from this danger.
Stone inhales deeply, drawing air into his lungs, broad chest heaving with it. There’s no hint of fear on his face, he’s too arrogant for that, but when he smiles this time, it’s with this manic, unreserved edge that reminds me so much of Dan that I want to take an axe to it. I want to hack it off, stick a blade between his lips and slice him open from mouth to spine. My fingers itch with the need to wrap them around a weapon.
“I’ve been observing your progress, Jack,” Stone says, like he’s a football coach assessing my improvement. “And I am impressed with how well you’ve assimilated.”
I turn my head, looking down at Leo again, but he’s shifted his attention to Stone, a completely different expression to the one he had for me on his face, all traces of softness hacked away at the root. His brows are drawn together in a glare, his usually kind, cool blue eyes turned flinty and furious. I’ve never seen Leo hate someone before, and it’s visceral, almost a physical thing that emanates out from him in thick waves.
Ian Stone is my biological father, and, a revelation that feels, somehow, bigger and far more devastating, Rohan is mybrother. He’s Dan’s brother. We have a brother, and I killed his mum. Ian Stone sent me, his bastard fucking kid, to kill his wife, my half-brother’s mum.
Stone—myfathermyfathermyfather—
“Assimilated?” The question falls out of my mouth and lands in a hard smack on the ground. “To what?”
Stone’s lips quirk into another smile, like I’ve just said something particularly amusing.
“Come on, now, Jack,” he prods in a saccharine tone, almost mocking. “You don’t really think I let you go wandering off to become a FISA agent by accident, do you? Use your head, kid.”
It takes me far too long to understand what he’s getting at. I’m so fucking slow, and Leo’s going to die because of it.
“You knew I was with FISA this whole time.” It’s a statement, not a question.
Stone’s smile widens, clearly pleased, as if I’m a circus animal who just performed a difficult trick after months of training. In many ways, that’s exactly what I am, so maybe I can’t blame him for looking at me and seeing the thing he created.
“Do I need to explain why?” Stone asks, raising his eyebrows expectantly. “Or can you guess?” His eyes flicker to Leo for a second, and panic seizes up in my chest so fast that it feels like I’ve been hit by a cinder block, the wind knocked out of me in a painful rush.
“You wanted Leo?” Then I correct myself. “You wanted me to get close to the nephew of Anabelle Snow, the director of FISA. So you could use him against her.”
Leo sucks in a sharp breath, almost a gasp, a noise of distress finding its way out through gritted teeth.
“Yes!” Stone exclaims, dark eyes glittering in triumph. “And you did a wonderful job of it as always. My team wanted to send Dan after Leo, but I went with my instincts and sent you instead, and I’m glad I did. I only ordered you to seduce him, not to makethe boy fall in love with you. Talk about going above and beyond the call of duty, son. I’m very pleased with your work, I have to say.”
We were wrong about the blue drug they gave me months ago. It never wore off, or if it did, then they injected me with another dose that I don’t remember receiving. There’s no point in asking Stone which it was. He must have ordered me to forget he ever told me to seduce Leo because I don’t remember that happening at all. The fact the drug can make me follow orders I don’t even remember being given is terrifying on its own.
I can’t think about what that means for my relationship with Leo. My feelings for Leo are real, Iknowthey are, nothing this powerful in its ability to both delight and devastate could ever be fabricated, but there’s a look on Leo’s face now that tells me he might not believe that anymore. I want to tell him that Stone didn’t order me to love him, but I don’t really know what Stone said or did, because those memories are buried somewhere in my subconscious, with no way for me to dig them out and find the truth.
“You’re an evil piece of shit,” I snarl at Stone, and it sounds desperate even to my own ears. I want him to be wrong, about all of it. “I’m going to fucking kill you for this.”
