Twenty-six years ago.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, covering my mouth as the realization hit like a punch.
As I did, Cade slid Melker’s journal toward me and tapped a page.
The entry read:
May 4th
Patient Zero refuses to eat today. Dr. Russell insists the baby is not distressed and that we should wait before force-feeding, but I cannot take any risks. I am growing increasingly concerned regarding Dr. Russell’s judgment. He repeatedly refers to Patient Zero by her name, Isabel, humanizing her. His recent recommendations focus too heavily on her comfort rather than the success of our project.
While I am certain he understands what is at stake, and what Arca can achieve if we succeed, I cannot ignore his behavior. His eyes linger on her too long. If he does not fall in line soon, I will have him replaced with a more detached physician. The baby is due any day. We cannot afford any mistakes.
“Isabel…” I breathed, the name barely leaving my throat as tears streamed down my cheeks.
“Considering your father told you your mother's name was Isabel, and Patient Zero was due approximately around your birth date, it is highly likely that Patient Zero is your mother,” Cade said quietly. He pointed to her swollen belly. “And this… is you.”
Something inside me splintered.
I drifted, disassociating, slipping outside my body as Cade kept talking. His voice blurred. My thoughts twisted and spiraled.
Who was I?
The daughter of an Arca experiment?
How did my father fit into any of this?
A sob tore from my throat.
Warm, muscular arms wrapped around me, pulling me against a broad chest. Killian. His purr rumbled through me, steady and grounding, and I closed my eyes, letting myself lean into him.
“I guess you and I are more alike than I thought, big guy,” I whispered, looking up at him with wet eyes.
He cocked his head, confused.
I clarified through shaky breaths. “Neither of us really knows where we came from. Who our mothers were. I thought I did, but…” My voice broke. Another sob ripped out of me, and I couldn’t speak anymore.
Killian rose without a word, lifting me effortlessly into his arms and carrying me out of the room.
I knew Cade had more information. I knew there were more answers buried in Melker’s journal. But I couldn’t process any of it. Not yet.
Killian sensed that.
He carried me into his room and set me gently on the bed, curling his body around me like a shield as I folded into myself.
In the doorway, Ryker appeared.
“You okay, Rowan?” he asked, all traces of humor gone, replaced with genuine concern.
“No,” I choked, fresh tears falling.
Ryker stepped inside.
Killian growled immediately, low and territorial. “Get out.”
I turned, pressing a hand to Killian’s chest. “Please, Killian. I need him. I need you both.”
His jaw flexed, at war with his instincts and my needs, before he let out a long, rough sigh. “Fine.”
