Caitriona rubbed her injured hand. In truth, the blow she delivered Duncan barely registered to the 6’7”, genetically-engineered warrior. She looked at her palm, still red while his cheek surfaced only a faint trace of pink. How she wished she were stronger. She wanted to cry, but rage pushed the tears away and gave her a strength she rarely possessed.

“You bastard,” she spat.

Duncan continued to stare at her. At 5’7”, Caitriona was taller than most women. She knew her height often lent her an air of authority, but next to Duncan’s size she felt small and vulnerable. She placed her hands on her hips and tried to look imposing. Her glorious auburn hair hung in loose curls down her back. The front had been intricately braided and pulled off her face, which now bore the anger she wore all too often these days. Her eyes were like emerald daggers as she pursed her lips and confronted him. Caitriona wanted to crawl inside his head and try to understand why he would keep this information from her.

“How long have you known?” she hissed, fearing the answer. She shifted her stance, and noticed the way his eyes traced the line of her body. She was clad in a simple day-gown of rich chocolate and burgundy that was indicative of her elevated status. She found the gowns she wore to be quite cumbersome and largely uncomfortable, but Duncan had insisted she continue to value the cultural traditions his people respected. He argued that it would help the Dwellers and Genetics alike to accept her as their Seer and prophet.

She repeated the question, her voice low and calculating. He said nothing, but continued to stare at her, his warrior’s mask of indifference and insignificance firmly in place. Once again, she was reminded of how little she meant to him. His was a singular cause: destroy the New World Order at any price. She also knew this was a war he’d been waging his entire life. The subterfuge and obfuscation ran deep. Her mouth parted as the pieces suddenly dropped into place, the final picture coming sharply into focus.

“You were the one who pulled me and Dani from the car wreck?” she whispered. She now knew this flywheel had been put in motion nearly 15 years ago when she was only a child. Her mind drifted back to the night of the car accident. She was 13 years old. It was August in Seattle and unusually rainy for that time of year. Her sister, Danika, had remarked that the roads were slick with rain and oil. As her sister started to let off the accelerator, the SUV she was driving hydroplaned on the two-lane highway and crossed the center line. Their vehicle was struck head-on by a motor home, killing their mother instantly. A man in another SUV saw the accident and stopped, pulling Danika from the wreckage, but she died later at the scene. Or so the doctors had told her. Caitriona spent several weeks in the hospital with multiple broken ribs, internal bleeding, and a ruptured disk. When she was finally released, it was with the stark realization that her life had been inextricably turned upside down. Her mother and sister were both dead and she was being placed with her overzealous Christian aunt.

Caitriona shook away the nostalgia and faced the man responsible for her abduction and empty childhood. “You were the man on the road that night,” she said, as more of a statement than a question. She already knew the answer. She could see the truth in Duncan’s eyes. “Why?” She had so many questions in that one word, but she thought that if she expressed them, the tears would come and never stop.

“Aye,” he said simply, in answer to her first question.

She stepped away from him and turned her back to him. She couldn’t look at him, not with the knowledge of what he had done. How deep does this run? The question tore at her brain and settled in her heart. “You told me when you first brought me on board your starship that you would never lie to me.”

Duncan touched her shoulder. She didn’t budge. She closed her eyes against the feelings his touch evoked and tried to focus on the answers she needed.

“I havna lied tae ye, lass.”

“Withholding information is tantamount to lying,” she said through gritted teeth. “Surely you must see that.”

Duncan said nothing, but neither did he remove his hand from her shoulder. “The things I do are tae keep ye safe, Leannan,” he said quietly.

“Stop calling me that.” She turned to face him, effectively removing his hand from her shoulder. She instantly missed the warmth of his touch. “I want to see her,” she demanded.

He nodded his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “We’ll leave in the morning after breakfast,” he replied. “Nicolas will accompany you.” His response was hard, calculated. She knew better than to argue with him.

She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and strode gracefully toward the door. She started to push the door open but turned to face him instead. “I will never forgive you for this.” Not waiting for his reply, she pushed the heavy oak door open and fled to her rooms.