Chapter Ten
Willow had changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. She hadn’t bothered with shoes, and she sat, her spine perfectly straight, on the edge of the bed.
Cecelia Gregory—Dr. Cecelia Gregory—had pulled a chair close to the bed. Like Willow, Cecelia was also wearing jeans. She’d taken off her coat to reveal a blue sweater, and she offered Willow a reassuring smile.
Willow didn’t feel particularly reassured. They were still in the containment room—still in her cell, and Cecelia made her nervous.
Willow’s gaze cut to the right. Jay was there. His shoulders were propped up against the wall, and his arms were crossed over his chest. His stare was on Cecelia.
“How are you feeling, Willow?” Cecelia asked carefully.
It wasn’t Willow’s first session with the shrink. She liked Cecelia. She was also uneasy around her. Because Cecelia could figure out how to get inside of everyone’s mind. Willow could touch a person and manifest their fears. But Cecelia could simply ask her careful questions and strip a person’s soul absolutely raw.
“Willow?” Cecelia prompted.
Willow pulled her gaze away from Jay. “Got to say,” she murmured. “I’m not at my best.”
“It’s almost dawn.” Cecelia gave her a quick smile. “And you’ve had a rather, um, eventful night.”
“Maybe we should wait until later for this,” Willow rushed to say. “If it’s nearly dawn, then—”
“I’m not going to stay long. Flynn will be coming for me soon. But I needed to check in with you, after everything that happened.”
Willow’s chin notched up. “You mean you had to check in to make certain I wasn’t going to flip out and attack everyone.”
“Yes.” Cecelia nodded. “I did.”
The woman didn’t pull her punches.
“You know I’m not going to lie to you, Willow. That’s not what I do. There was an extreme incident tonight, and I was asked to talk with you because we need to do a threat assessment.”
Willow wanted to look at Jay again. Because she wanted it so badly, she kept her eyes glued to Cecelia. “I didn’t—Jay said I didn’t make him see his fears.”
“No.” Cecelia’s voice was gentle. “You didn’t. You fought whatever compulsion or trigger Wyman gave to you.”
Her hands dug into the bed covers. “If I fought it, then that means Wyman can’t control me.”
“You did lunge across the room. You went for Jay. But something stopped you before you could follow through on the attack.” Cecelia tilted her head to study Willow. Her red hair trailed over her shoulder. “What do you think that was?”
“I don’t remember everything clearly. I just remember bits and pieces.”
“I’ve found that Lazarus test subjects maintain primitive responses and memories the best. Fear is very primitive. So is rage. Were you afraid in that room?”
“Yes.”
“Were you angry?”
“Y-yes…”
“Can you remember what Wyman said to you?”
Willow shook her head.
“What do you remember then?”
“I remember being over Jay. Staring down at him.”
“Good. That’s good, Willow. Tell me…how did you feel right then?”
Jay was watching. She’d asked him to watch, to stay, but now… “Can he leave?”
She felt Jay’s start of surprise.
“Forget it.” She huffed out a breath. Maybe he should hear this. “I felt ashamed. He’d treated me like I was normal, and then I was going to hurt him. I was like some kind of attack dog, that’s how I felt. Like I’d been given prey to target. And I looked down and it was Jay, and I couldn’t.”
“Do you remember how you felt right then? At that exact moment when you realized you were about to hurt Jay?”
“Frozen.” Inside and out. Unable to move. “I wanted to say something to him, I wanted to pull away, but I couldn’t move at all.” Helplessly, her gaze darted to Jay. She found his stare on her.
Another shiver slid over Willow, and she made herself glance back at Cecelia.
Only to realize that Cecelia had caught her telling look toward Jay. The shrink was far too observant to miss any detail, no matter how small.
“What happened next?” Cecelia prompted in her calm, steady voice.
“I heard a gunshot. It was like the sound woke me up. I ran toward it.” Her breath came a little faster, her heart beat faster. “I found Jay crouched over Wyman. Blood was on Jay’s hands.” Her lips pressed together.
“And then…?” Cecelia prompted her.
“Then I attacked.” Heat stung her cheeks.
“There was no trigger word from Wyman this time? You attacked on your own?”
“I was…something broke inside of me.” The only way to describe it. “I was just left with fury. Fear.” Her lashes swept over her cheeks. “I couldn’t lose him.”
“Jay? You couldn’t lose Jay?”
No. Wyman. “He did something to me.” She looked up. “To my mind. Whatever Wyman did, you have to undo. Get him out of my head.”
“I’ll try,” Cecelia said. She nodded once, briskly, then said, “Jay, I need to talk with you outside.” She rose to her feet. “I think you should just rest for a while, Willow. Get some sleep.” She turned for the door.
Willow rose, too. “You mean I should rest, in here.”
Jay was at the door. So was Cecelia. The shrink glanced over her shoulder, and her hazel gaze was sad. “Yes.”
Because Cecelia thought that Willow was a threat. One who had to be contained. Willow’s gaze swept over the room. All the comforts of home, only it was a prison. “Right. That’s fine. Things will be different in the morning.” The lie came easily.
Then Cecelia was gone. Jay lingered a moment more, his gaze on Willow. “Are you going to be okay?”
No. “Of course. I just need to sleep.”
His jaw hardened.
“Go talk to Cecelia. I’ll be here.” Not like she could go anywhere else.
He still hesitated.
“I’m tired,” Willow told him and that was the truth. “I want to get some sleep, okay? Just doing what the doctor ordered.”
“If you need me…”
“I don’t.” I do.
She slid into the bed. Closed her eyes. A moment later, the door shut. She heard the pad of his steps as he left her.
He thought the room was sound-proofed. That he’d managed to create a secure holding place so that Lazarus subjects couldn’t use their enhanced senses to see or hear what happened beyond that room.
He was wrong.
“We have a problem,” Cecelia told him quietly. Willow heard the shrink’s words perfectly. “If he’s set some kind of trigger in her head, then Wyman could have done the same thing to other subjects. He could have ways to control them all.”
“That’s just the beginning of our damn problems,” Jay threw back, his voice hard and grating. “Wyman said—the SOB said he’s her father.”
“What?”
But Willow had lunged upright in bed, her heart racing and her mind seeming to…splinter.
***
“You’re not dying on me, baby. You’re not.”
Wyman Wright’s voice. But his face was different. His nose was bigger, his jaw harder, and his thin hair was gray at the sides. Fear etched deep lines onto his face as his shaking hand touched her cheek. “I’m going to help you.”
She wanted to talk, but couldn’t. Her whole body felt funny. Cold.
Numb?
“I’ll make you stronger, baby. I’ll make it so that he can’t ever hurt you again. I’ll fix what I did. I’ll bring you back, I swear it.”
He could do so much, she knew that. But even he couldn’t cheat death. And death was there. She could see it in the darkness around her. She wanted to tell him good-bye, but couldn’t. All she could do was stare at his face as the darkness around them both grew stronger.
“No, Willow, you hold on! I need you to hold on just a little longer. There are steps to follow. Fucking preservation process—it’s going to work! It worked on the others, and it will work on you.”
She couldn’t see him. Had her eyes closed? Or had the darkness gotten too strong?
“Baby!” His voice seemed to break. “I won’t lose you. You’ll come back…” His words roughened. “Even if I have to fight heaven and hell…they won’t take you.”
Then she could have sworn that she felt the fire of hell. Because she seemed to be burning—burning from the inside out. Her whole body hurt, and the pain wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop. She was being torn apart. The woman she’d been, the life she’d had, it was ripped away from her. She could see her life tearing into pieces. She tried to grab the pieces, but they were burning. She was burning.
She opened her eyes—
Strapped to a table. In a white, sterile lab. Men and women in lab coats.
Willow screamed.
***
“Her father?” Cecelia’s hazel eyes widened. “Bullshit.”
“Yeah, well,” Jay raked a hand over his jaw, feeling the rough edge of stubble, “I hope to hell that’s the case, but I’ve got Elizabeth comparing their blood and DNA. If he is her father, that would explain a few things, like why I can’t find a trace of Willow anywhere.”
“Because he would have protected her. Probably her whole life.” She rocked back on her heels. “As many enemies as he has…no way would Wyman want the world knowing he had a daughter. He would have kept her away from everyone. He would have—”
“He would have trained her,” Jay said flatly. “Made sure that she knew how to protect herself from any threat. That’s where she got her skills. Wyman. If what he’s saying is true. We thought Willow had a military background like the other subjects, but Wyman treated her differently from the beginning. He kept her separated because she was different.”
“He protected her.”
Jay nodded. “And he only came out of hiding when he thought she was in danger.” When she’d been shot. Hold the fuck up. His mind started spinning. If Wyman had been protecting her, then had all of that BS about Jay being a threat to Willow—had it been true?
No, no way, it—
Willow screamed.
He instantly whipped around, staring through the one-way glass. Willow wasn’t supposed to be able to hear anything outside of her room, but he’d set up the space so that he could hear her. And her scream was absolutely gut-wrenching.
She was sitting upright in bed, her body twisting and turning, and her scream kept echoing.
He didn’t hesitate. Jay ran back to her, throwing open the door and rushing toward the bed. “Willow!”