46. BREADCRUMBS
alistair
Asher Keinston.
The man I’d rather avoid in hell if I have to.
The man who’d likely put a bullet between my eyes if he knew even half of what his sister has been dragged into because of being involved with me.
The same man whose resources rival those of governments.
The same man who would burn entire cities if it meant protecting his family.
For several long moments, I remain motionless, staring at the iPad bearing the copy of Garden. Once I contact Asher, there’s no going back.
Everything changes.
Yet as I look at the future the Dominion has planned for Ariella, one certainty settles heavier than all the rest.
They don’t intend to kill her.
They intend to keep her.
To convert her.
And then hide the transformation by returning her to her family looking the same while turning her entirely different.
A breeding candidate.
A Dominion asset.
My vision blurs red. No. Abso-fucking-lutely not.
The Dominion has already stolen enough from me.
They don’t get to have Ariella.
I’d rather hand my secrets to the Keinston than watch the Dominion turn her into another cyborg program.
Somewhere across the world, it’s a little after three in the morning in Sydney. A very inconvenient hour of unwelcomed vulnerability.
People like to imagine that power makes them immune to fear. In reality, fear simply becomes more selective.
At four in the morning, a man is not a COO, a strategist, or a public figure anymore. He’s a son. A brother. A mere human being dragged from sleep by the possibility of disaster.
The burner phone feels cheap in my hand.
The number came from Ariella’s phone. One of the many things she never realized I had access to after the accident.
I activate the voice modulator and dial the number.
The line goes straight to voicemail twice.
Third time is the charm.
“What?” sleep-deprivation roughens the single word.
A smile naturally curves up my lips. “Well, hello to you too, Asher Keinston,” the modulator strips my voice of anything recognizable.