“According to your own story, there’s nothing to verify it because your very existence has been wiped away.”
How the hell were he and his team going to know whether Whitney could be trusted or not? He couldn’t even prove it was her real name. There were definite indications that what she’d said was true, she was young enough for her story, and it did link into the sale of the building, but was that enough?
Trusting her could lead to their destruction. What if the whole setup was a ploy? She goes to Cassandra, offers a warning, and Dr. Gardner would know they’d search for the woman. Then she magically appears after the explosion that nearly killed them, and she has a whole house rented out a couple of hours away where she’s just waiting for him to show up.
Just because he couldn’t hear anyone out there in the forest didn't mean they weren't being watched. This whole place could be under surveillance, and Dr. Gardner was just waiting for the rest of his team to show up to get their vengeance before springing the trap and coming in to try to abduct them.
“Because I'm just a tool to be used,” Whitney whispered wearily, and despite the fact that he still held her neck in his hand, her face angled so it was looking right at him, her gaze dropped, and a single tear rolled free.
Something about that lone tear called out to him. He wanted to catch it with his tongue, absorb it, carry the heavy weight that had been placed on this woman’s shoulder, a woman young enough that she was barely able to drink legally.
But what if it was all a lie?
A game?
A trap?
There was no way he could allow himself to fall for it without some sort of verification, but if there was none, then despite her possible innocence, killing this woman might be the only way to keep his team safe.
Abruptly releasing his hold on Whitney, the thought of ending her life making him nauseous even though that had literally been the plan when he followed her, Blade took in a deep breath. He couldn’t allow emotion to cloud his judgment. Who the hell would have guessed that after spending a decade believing he was barely capable of feeling any emotion that wasn't anger, that he would now be concerned that he’d make a mistake because he felt something?
Leaving her hanging right where she was, the safest place to keep her, even as Blade fought guilt because his gut screamed at him that she was indeed an innocent, he headed back for the farmhouse. He needed to call his team, tell them what he’d learned, and allow clearer heads to decide what came next.
Slamming the door behind him, Blade went straight to the kitchen counter, scooped up his phone, and brought up Steel’s number. His team leader answered on the first ring.
“Nothing on the fingerprint yet,” Steel informed him.
“Don’t think there’s going to be anything on it,” he said.
“You got her talking?” Thunder asked.
“Yeah.” And he wasn't proud of what he’d done to make it happen. For a moment there, he was positive he’d killed her. By the time the haze of fury had cleared enough that he was able to process the fact that she was too young to have done what she claimed, Whitney had barely been breathing. Now knowing that he might have placed blame on a ten-year-old’s shoulders left him … shaken.
“What did she say?” Lion asked.
“That her name is Whitney Daley. That Cassandra was right, and that woman who ended up connecting us to From Nature is her mother. That she’s the one who created the initial version of the drug when she was ten years old.”
“Ten?” Voodoo repeated, incredulous.
“So she’s what, twenty odd?” Dragon asked.
“Twenty-two, according to my calculations,” he confirmed.
“She created it?” Steel asked, again clearly incredulous.
“She createdadrug that she wanted to use to save children living in poverty, but then her parents sold her to Dr. Gardner, who must have found out about it, and decided to buy her so he could keep her as his own personal little scientist slave,” he replied.
“If that’s true …” Lion trailed off, but they all knew what he meant. If this woman was innocent, then once again, they might have burned a bridge that could have potentially helped them.
“Is she okay?” Cassandra asked softly.
Dragging a hand through his hair, Blade hesitated. How did he answer that? Whitney was alive, breathing, none of her injuries were serious, but she could hardly be described as being anywhere close to okay.
But he didn't want to say that. Cassandra had walked away from all of them, from Dragon in particular, when she found out they had plans to go after Dr. Gardner’s sister. The two of them had only just gotten together, and it was mostly because of the woman hanging in the tree outside. While Cassandra now understood the stakes, he still knew she wasn't okay with torturing people, even if they’d believed them to be an enemy.
“She’s as okay as she can be,” he replied.
“Maybe I could talk to her,” Rose offered. “I know my brother better than anyone else because he raised me. If he kind of raised her, too, I can probably figure it out by asking some questions.”
