Chapter
Eight
January 12th
8:11 A.M.
It was crazy, but Blade was fairly certain that he actually trusted Whitney more right now than she trusted him.
They should probably both distrust each other equally. He had no way to prove that she had been nothing more than a ten-year-old girl when she created the drug and was sold to Dr. Gardner, and she had no way of knowing that he didn't have any more plans to torture her.
Maybe he should. Little girl or not, she was still the person who had created the drug that stole his life from him, but what kind of monster would he be to punish a literal child for something she’d had zero control over?
Whitney’s drug was intended to save lives, not create super soldiers, and certainly not end lives. Blaming her for the fact that her parents, the people who were supposed to love and protect her, sold her to a mad scientist who exploited her was wrong. Plain and simple.
The thing was, he did believe what she’d told him.
All of it.
The timeline and what she’d said about her mom aligned with what they already knew, and she very clearly looked like she was in her early twenties. Sure, she could just have really good genes, but he didn't think that was the case.
Then there was this … “Whitney.”
Without any hesitation, she turned her head to look at him, the sound of her own name so ingrained in her that even though she’d clearly been lost in thought, staring out the car window at the farmhouse they were about to leave behind, she’d registered her name being called.
More proof she’d been telling him the truth.
“Hmm?” she asked, like she wasn't quite sure she was supposed to talk. He’d noticed that about her. She seemed unsettled whenever he didn't give her explicit instructions about what he expected. Floundering. It was no wonder. He knew enough about Ridge Gardner and how the man treated others from what Rose had told them about her childhood to know that the man would have micromanaged every aspect of Whitney’s life for the last twelve years.
“You ready to go?”
“If you're ready,” she answered, like she believed what she wanted had no bearing on the situation.
In some regards, she wasn't wrong. It wasn't safe to leave her there alone, she was too close to the warehouse, and he wouldn't put it past Dr. Gardner to have people combing the area for her, after all, she’d betrayed him and he wouldn't accept that. He’d cuffed her last night because he needed sleep as much as she did, and neither one of them would get it if Whitney escaping was on the table.
But he didn't consider her a captive.
A tool to be used, sure, she had valuable intel about Dr. Gardner that Rose could never provide because the crazedscientist’s little sister wasn't part of his military plans to turn regular soldiers into super soldiers. But Blade was making sure he didn't stop seeing Whitney as a real person, a living, breathing human being with her own thoughts, needs, and emotions. She’d been used more than enough in her young life.
And damn, was she young.
Twelve years younger than he was. Twelve years, the entire time she’d been living as Dr. Gardner’s prisoner. And what had her life been like before that? Graduating from high school at seven, and college with four degrees by ten, hadn't left her with much time to just be a child. Likely her entire life had been doing what others expected of her.
“Let’s get out of here then,” he said as he turned on the engine.
“Yeah,” she whispered, and she sounded exceedingly sad to be leaving a house he knew she’d only been at for a handful of days. He knew that because she’d told him that she was made to live on site, so she didn't waste valuable working time traveling. This place was in the same name as the fake ID he’d found, so she must have set herself up with a new identity, hoping it would be enough.
If he hadn't heard her in the forest the night of the explosion, it might have been.
Neither of them spoke as he drove in the car she’d obviously also set up for her getaway. It was in the same name as everything else, so it was clear it had been a piece of her plan. She’d done well, getting herself set up so she could escape, finally be free to live her life the way she chose, and Blade couldn’t deny he felt bad about ruining that for her, even if he was selfish enough to keep her close and use her.
Use but not torture.
Before leaving this morning, he’d talked to his team, and they knew he was on the way. They trusted his judgment thatWhitney appeared to be telling the truth. Torture was off the table for all of them, they weren't going to make the same mistakes they’d made with Rose.
Besides, he’d already tortured Whitney, and he couldn’t let go of the heavy weight of guilt he felt because of it.
Should have been smarter and done more research before assuming the worst. Although he knew they couldn’t possibly have guessed that a mere child had created the drug. The logical assumption was that she was running because she was involved, but still, he wished he’d simply locked her up and then figured things out.
