She led me downstairs to the lowest level before stopping, resting her hands on the handrails and staring out at the rows of cubes hanging suspended over darkness.

“Mr. Jenks’ test subjects,” she said without looking at me. “I dedicated a huge part of my life to trying to find them, but I never thought I would find them like this.”

I studied her. “Who are you?” I asked again.

She gave a long sigh, and then turned around, resting a hip against the rail and folding her arms across her chest. “I’m going to tell you Violet, but you have to promise not to react until after I say what I have to say.”

I nodded in wordless agreement and she sighed again, looking out over her shoulder before replying: “My name is Desmond Bertrand.”

I stared, dumbstruck, as she pulled a familiar piece of paper from her pocket and held it up. “I believe you knew my son,” she said.

“D-Desmond? Lee’s mother?” I blurted, shock rolling over me. “But, that’s a male name—and Lee said that his mother was dead!”

“A lot of people think I’m dead. I went to great lengths to make it look like I died. As for my name—all the women in my family have been given male names. It’s a silly tradition, but one I probably would have followed if I had ever had a daughter.” She gave a smirk, her eyes meeting mine. “Just something to break the gender lines for women and proclaim our equality, I suppose.”

“But—”

She held up a hand, and my protest died on my lips. “Let me finish, Violet.”

I closed my mouth and waited.

“When I escaped Patrus and gave birth to Lee on the river, I knew there was an advantage to be claimed there. I ensured that Lee was given the freedom to choose which nation he wanted, and advocated that he become a spy of Matrus.

“He began training at a young age. He wasn’t very good at the physical aspect of spy craft, but mentally, my son was quite adept. He excelled at lying and convincing others to do what he wanted. A few years later, I wanted another child—without the hassle of marrying or finding a male to help—so I signed up for artificial insemination.

“Around the same time, the testing of Matrian males changed. More boys started being flagged for violent and aggressive tendencies. Before, it had been maybe one in twenty that were taken. Now, it was closer to one in ten. Like so many others, I believed it was a good thing. Lee passed the test with flying colors, which didn’t surprise me. But my second son, Jay, did not, and he was carted off.

“I was beside myself with grief. My son, my sweet baby boy, had been taken by his own country and shipped off to the mines, and I was never going to get to hold him again. Suffice it to say, I was not pleased.

“Neither was Lee. We faked my death together and I headed north, hoping to find and rescue him. I spent one year looking for these mines, and you know what I found? Nothing. It was then that I realized that our government was lying to us.

“I contacted Lee, and he managed to intercept some information about a facility where the boys were sent to. I found sympathizers who had been affected by the changed policy, and I organized them. Together, we broke into the facility. It was an exact replica of this place, but somehow, someone had tipped them off that we were coming.

“At the time, I had no idea what their goal was. I spent years trying to find out. It wasn’t until Lee received orders to retrieve this egg that we got a break. Lee managed to use one of the phone calls between you and Mr. Jenks to infiltrate his system. He couldn’t get much, but what he did get indicated the egg was the final stage of Mr. Jenks’ research.

“Which is why I told my son to steal it. And to leave no witnesses.”

I stared at her, my body tensing. “I see.”

“Violet. Did you kill my son?”

I hesitated under her point blank question. I thought about lying for a second, but then Marina’s grief stricken face crossed my mind. Her words rolled through me like thunder. I couldn’t hide from the things I had done, and I couldn’t lie about them either. Lies were increasingly common, I had learned, which made the truth worth more. I wanted to be worth more too, regardless of how she reacted. I figured it was better knowing than not. “Yes,” I said softly.

Desmond sucked in a deep breath of air and turned around, clutching the handrails tightly. I took a half step back, expecting an attack from her at any moment.

She stayed in that position for a long time, and then slowly turned back around. “Thank you for your honesty,” she said hoarsely.

I froze, unprepared for her response. My brows furrowed in confusion. “Don’t you want revenge? To punish me somehow?”

She gave a bitter laugh and shook her head. “When society believes that an eye for an eye is acceptable, eventually everyone will go blind.” At my expression, she sighed. “It’s not your fault. Not really. I gave Lee the order to terminate everyone involved with the mission.”

“But I—”

“You defended yourself, Violet,” she said with a heavy sigh. “You had no idea what the big picture was. If I had known how resourceful you were, I would’ve had Lee bring you to me. But to me, you were just another pawn, and I was ready to sacrifice you. It’s not your fault my son is dead—it’s mine.” She held up the letter. “I never knew he felt like a pawn as well, though,” she said wistfully, her fingers stroking over the letter. “I thought he wanted to help me. But it seemed he had other plans.”

It took me a second to understand her cryptic statement. Then I remembered the letter, and how it had described his plan to continue northward.

“He wrote the letter to leave to you,” I said softly, and she nodded, a tear escaping the corner of her eye.

I bit my lip, taking a step back. I couldn’t begin to process everything that was happening. A part of me wanted to retreat back to my room, pull the covers over my head, and forget everything that had happened.

Yet curiosity won out. I took a step forward. “What do you want from me, Ms. Bertrand?”

Desmond looked up at me, her blue eyes tired. “I’m not going to lie, Violet. I’m not a good person—I’ve never pretended to be—but what Matrus is doing is wrong. And I want to stop them. For good.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’m talking about a rebellion. A real one. And I want your help.”

I scoffed, taking a step back again. “You can’t! They’re too strong. You have how many people?”

“More than you think,” she replied.

“Well they have more. They have weapons. They have supplies.”

She held out her hand toward the cubes, her voice dangerously low. “We have the very boys that they cast out.”

I stared at the cubes. “They’re broken,” I whispered, thinking of my brother. “Traumatized.”

“Then we’ll help them,” she replied simply.

“What do you expect me to do?”

She gave a great sigh, and grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to look her in the eyes. “Let me ask you this question. What are you willing to do? Go through the options, and you tell me which one is your best one.”

I hesitated, suddenly feeling lost. On the one hand, I hated Matrus. I wanted to see them pay for what they had done to my brother. To Viggo. On the other hand… the cost of waging a war would be high. Innocent civilians would suffer in any conflict. I wasn’t sure I could shoulder that burden.

“Can I… Can I think about it?” I asked.

Desmond nodded, releasing my shoulders. “Of course. You must be hungry. And I assume that you will want to check on your people. Owen?”

I nearly jumped three feet as Owen appeared out of nowhere, light dancing across the fabric of his suit until it faded to black.

“I’ll take her,” he said in a chipper voice, offering me an arm.

I gaped at him. “What the… How did you do that?”

He gave me a little smirk. “One of the tricks of the trade,” he said.

My mind suddenly made an intuitive leap. “You’re the thing that grabbed me in the forest,” I said.

Owen exchanged a look with Desmond. “I’ll explain everything, if you decide to join us,” said Desmond.

I looked at both of them, too overwhelmed to respond. “Just take me upstairs,” I replied, pivoting on my heel and heading back to the door as fast as possible. The room felt tight, like it was closing in. I needed to escape from there, and make sure Viggo and Tim were all right. Ms. Dale as well, although she was a dim after thought, at this point.

Owen jogged up behind me, slowing down to a walk as he caught up. “That was a lot, huh?”

I glanced over at him, and shook my head. “I really don’t know what to make of all this.”

“Yeah. I, uh… read your file and kind of pieced together what happened in here. You’ve been having a pretty rough time, huh?”

I paused mid-step, my head whipping around to look at him. “Rough time?” I hissed, spearing him with a look. “You have no idea what I have been through. So don’t offer me your false sincerity or pity. Just shut up, and take me where I need to go.”

Owen’s face became neutral, but I detected a small flash of pain before it disappeared. “All right,” he said in a clipped tone.

We remained silent as we made our way upstairs. I grabbed an apple off the tree as we passed through the greenhouse. Once in the living quarters, Owen opened the immediate door to my right, revealing Tim.

He was sleeping on the floor, blankets and pillows piled up around him in a makeshift nest. I started to say something, but Owen shook his head and closed the door softly.

“Don’t try to stop me from talking to my brother,” I whispered angrily, trying to push past him. He placed a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“The last time someone accidentally woke your brother up, he broke their jaw. I just didn’t want him reacting strongly and accidentally hurting you.”

I stared at him for a long moment, the anger draining out of me. He looked so peaceful in his sleep, but I remembered how animalistic he had seemed fighting Marina. I didn’t know the extent of his problems, which meant I had no idea what it would take for him to get better. “Is he okay?”

Owen hesitated and shook his head. “Not exactly. Desmond will have to explain more later, but for now, you can see he’s safe and sound. We haven’t hurt him.”

“Then show me Viggo.”

Owen hesitated again. “He’s upstairs,” he said softly.

I pushed past him toward the next staircase. Owen padded along beside me silently as I pushed through the door.

Once upstairs, he pointed me to a room and I went in.

Viggo was lying in the bed, hooked up to machines. They were beeping softly, monitoring his vitals.

He was unconscious, but he looked better—there was more pink in his skin than when I last saw him. I let out the breath I was holding and moved closer, taking his hand in mine.

I expected him to wake up when I touched him, but he didn’t. My heart sank into my stomach as I stroked my thumb over his hand. I wanted to cry to see him like this. He was strong—how could a simple gunshot bring him down like this?

“What’s wrong with him?” I asked Owen without looking at him.

He cleared his throat. “He's not so good, actually,” he replied, and I shot him a look.

“What do you mean?” I demanded.

Licking his lips, Owen fidgeted. “He… um… well, according to the Matrian spy, he used an excess of adrenaline to fight. It um… it damaged his heart.”

I blinked absorbing the information. I reached out, smoothing a lock of hair on his forehead. “C-Can you fix it?”

Owen sighed. “Not with the equipment we have here,” he said tiredly. “We need access to a surgical laser to repair the tear in his heart. Without it…” he trailed off, and I stared at him.

“Without it, what?”

“He’ll die.”

I sat down heavily in the chair sitting right next to the bed, a hard rock forming in my stomach.

“Violet?”

“Go away,” I said, shutting my eyes. I heard him hesitate for a second, but after a moment, he left, leaving me alone with Viggo.

I sat there for a long time, holding Viggo’s hand, silently willing him to wake up and tell me that Owen was wrong. Yet he never did.

I hated seeing him like this, so helpless and vulnerable. How was I going to get him out of here if I didn’t accept Desmond’s offer? I was in no position to carry him and Tim out of here. Where could we even go?

My mind drifted to Desmond, and I sighed, leaning back in the chair. She seemed so in control. Everything about her threw me off. I knew I couldn’t trust her—not completely—but a small part of me wanted to.

Truth be told, I admired her. She was so calm, so collected, so rational. My emotions felt like a stone tied around my neck. I had no idea what to do, where to go, while she seemed to have plan after plan ready to go. And there was a small nagging voice inside me reminding me that I was all alone, and I needed help.

She was offering me a hand up. I felt torn and conflicted. I wished Viggo were awake—he would have an opinion on what to do.

“You stupid idiot,” I whispered to him, stroking my hand over his. “We were almost even.”

“Even with what?” came Desmond’s voice from the door.

I glanced at her, turning around to face her. “It doesn’t matter. What do you want?”

“You’ve been in here for hours, Violet. I came to check on you.”

I stared at her and she sighed. She moved into the room and sat down on the desk. “Ask your question.”

“Is it that obvious?”

There was a flash of a smile. “I was a pretty good spy, once upon a time.”

“Fine. Did you do this to Viggo? Is this your way of trying to control me?”

She shook her head, her mouth tightening. “No, Violet. I can understand why you would think that, though.”

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

Leaning back, she sighed. “You don’t. I can only try to earn your trust from here on out. Step one of doing that is to do everything in my power to help Mr. Croft here get better.”

I watched her closely. “What’s step two?”

She didn’t say anything. Instead, she stood up and went back to the door. Reaching down, she picked something up and carried it in.

It was my backpack, the one I had left with Tim. She held it out to me, and I took it. Opening it up, I saw all of my belongings and the false egg inside. She had even returned my gun.

“I leave control of the egg to you, although I do ask if you will allow my scientists to study it. However, it is up to you. Keep it, throw it away, destroy it—whatever you want.”

I stared at her for a long moment, baffled by the woman in front of me. “I don’t understand you,” I whispered, clutching the bag to my chest.

Desmond gave me a look of sympathy. “I bet. Lots of people have tried to use you, Violet, so your distrust is perfectly understandable. But I don’t want to use you. I want to help you and I want you to help me.”

“How can you help me?”

She ran a hand through her hair. “Well, for starters, I can help you get what you need to save Mr. Croft’s life.”

I scoffed. “For my help?”

“I would like your help—your willingness to help—but I won’t blackmail you into it. That doesn’t bode well for any continued relationship.”

I frowned, not anticipating her reaction. Every time I thought I could predict how she wanted to use me, she proved me wrong. It was weird, but I was beginning to like her. I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to do though.

“So even if I don’t help you, you’ll still help me? Free of charge?”

She laughed, and the sound reminded me of wind chimes—bright and beautiful. “Nothing is ever free, Violet. I would, of course, ask you to accompany Owen on any expedition to steal the equipment needed, but I assume you would want to go along anyway.”

I frowned. Again, that blunt information, freely given with an intense sincerity. For good or for bad, she didn’t pull a punch.

“Why are you so…” I waved my hand, trying to pick a good word that wouldn’t insult her.

“Blunt?” she offered, a small smile playing at her lips. I nodded and she shrugged. “Honesty is an undervalued commodity. Keeping secrets is the cancer that is slowly killing Matrus and Patrus. Given enough time, and lies, both places would fail, and the last vestiges of humanity would disappear from this earth. I don’t have time for it. And also, I have found that honesty can inspire people. I won’t let my people go into any situation against their will, and I won’t lie to spare them uncomfortable truths about what they are getting into. It builds trust, and separates me from Matrus and Patrus. I don’t have time to be anything but honest.”

I stared back at her for a long time, wrestling with my indecision. Everything she said struck a chord in me. I wanted to believe her. I chose to believe her.

“Okay,” I said. “So, if I helped you, what would you want me to do?”

She shot me a beatific smile, her face lighting up from within as she replied, “I’d want you to help me win a war.”

* * *

Dear Reader,

Thank you for reading . I truly hope you enjoyed it!

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As for Book 3 of the series, the title is , and it will release on New Year’s Eve, December 31st, 2016.

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Love,

Bella x

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