I’d both been looking forward to and dreading this day—the day the Institute put me in their training program.

At least I wouldn’t be stuck looking at the same blank walls.

But first, I got a long overdue visit from my father.

About damn time too. Him and me, we had words to discuss. Loads of them, and not all of them pretty, starting with why the hell I was locked in a room. I was fuming. Pacing a room the size of a walk in closet for four days would do that to a person.

The man who had been my idol as a child walked in with a smile on his face. His temples were peppered with gray hair just as I remembered, but the twinkle that had always been in his Irish green eyes was gone. In its place shined a calculated light utterly foreign to me. It changed his whole demeanor. “Good. You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

I blinked, wondering if he was being serious. “Like I’m living a bad dream.”

His hands clasped in front of him, the dark blue Institute uniform stretching over his shoulders. “The effects of the drug should be completely out of your system.”

My heart rate picked up. Inside I was torn in two. A part of me cautious, uncertain who I could trust, and the other part wanted to run into his arms, waiting for him to tell me he was sorry, that he loved me. I just stared at him. “You drugged me. Why?”

He smiled, but there was something off about it, like it had been practiced. “If there was another way, it would have been done, trust me.” He stepped forward and raised a hand in the air, as if to ruffle my hair, but then stopped. “I only want to keep you safe.”

What a laugh. I wasn’t positive I could trust him—my own father.

“The situation was precarious and needed to be handled with care,” he continued. “I would never have done anything to hurt you or that wasn’t in your best interests. I’m your father.”

I didn’t want the father-knows-best speech right now. What I wanted was answers that made sense, but I wasn’t sure he could give me what I needed. “My father wanted to preserve life. He never would have been part of something that destroyed it,” I pointed out.

“You only know what you’ve been told. There is so much more for you to learn, and that is why you’re here: to understand the world as it is now. I might seem different. You’ve changed as well, I see, but no matter what, Charlotte, you’re still my daughter.”

“Funny, I feel like a hostage.”

“I assure you there is nothing to get excited about. It was a precaution and that all changes today. We’re going to teach you the skills you need to survive.”

Was he kidding me? This had to be a sick joke. “If you call being tortured something to get excited about.”

“Muffin—”

Knots formed in my belly at hearing the childhood nickname. “I know you toss aside those who don’t fit into your mutated program. I know you torture those who are Gifted to figure out what they can do,” I cut in, growing more agitated by the second. “I know all about your little operation here. I’ve seen it firsthand. You kill people. Innocent people. You tried to kill me.”

My father frowned. “That is not true. I didn’t know you were with him. You have to understand things are different now.”

“I guess things have changed. I don’t know who you are anymore,” I ground out.

“You may not believe everything I tell you,” he continued, softening his expression, “which is why I think it is important for you to see what we do here with your own eyes, and then maybe you can begin to understand that we’re not the enemy; you can see the truth behind the Institute. Let me show you.”

As if I had a choice. “And if I refuse?”

“You’re curious. I can see it in your eyes. Why not give yourself the chance to see we’re really not the bad guys?”

“Don’t make me regret this,” I grumbled.

The moment my father and I stepped out of the room, two guards fell in step behind us. One of them was Trist. I liked to say it was nice to see a familiar face, but this particular face had once tried to kill me. Both guards were armed, and then, of course, they were also Gifted. The implication was crystal clear: I shouldn’t try any funny business.

As we walked, my father seemed taller than I remembered. “This is the housing wing, where you’ve been staying. There are three floors dedicated to sleeping quarters. The floor you are on is the executive one for staff and management. The other two floors are for trainees. Once recruits go through the program, we help them decide their future.”

“And do you lock everyone in?”

A small smile curved his lips. “No. Believe it or not, this isn’t a prison.”

“But you have a dungeon.”

He nodded. “We do. What civilized society doesn’t have a place to uphold law and order? In any species, there exists good and bad. The dungeons are there to contain threats.”

I wanted to press him, ask about Dash, but I feared being sent back to my own prison.

He ushered me toward an elevator, and I was surprised to see such technology still existed. In the Heights, there was nothing like this; it was as primitive as a land could get. My eyes swept the halls, trying to get a grasp of my surroundings. We had passed a dozen or more doors just like mine.

The elevator felt a little tight with squeezing the four of us into it. I moved closer to the wall, putting as much distance between Trist and me as possible. The other guard leaned forward and hit a button with the letter C on it. There were seven buttons, so I assumed there were seven floors.

“If the top three floors are for housing, what are the others for?” I asked, attempting to get a layout of the tower.

“Floor four is for research and development. Three is the cafeteria, exercise facility, and childcare rooms. The second and ground floor are where our training happens, depending on your skill set.”

The elevator stopped and let out a ding before the doors opened. Right away, I noticed the scent of cooked meat and something sweet like maple. My stomach came to life, grumbling, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten yet today.

“You hungry?” Dr. Winston asked—I was having a hard time associating this man with my father—“I thought we’d grab something to eat before we continued. I could use a cup of tea.”

Well, there was one thing that hadn’t changed. My dad never went without a mug of tea morning, noon, and night. “I could eat.”

He nodded. “Good. Then afterwards, we’ll stop by the lab and see your mom. She’s been dying to see you.”

We walked through a set of double doors, and the scent of food grew stronger along with the sound of voices. Clean square tables filled a rather normal-looking cafeteria. Most of the seats were occupied, and unless I’d become paranoid, everyone stopped and stared. Great. I loved being the circus monkey on display.

My cheeks flushed.

We went through the buffet line, and the chatter in the room kicked back up. I exhaled, piling my plate with more food than I could eat. It felt like a century since I’d had eggs and something similar to bacon. Well, it had been a century, technically.

At all times I was sandwiched between the two guards, just in case I decided to get adventurous and make a run for it. However, I was too enthralled with the food on my plate to make the effort. We found an empty table and filled the seats.

Holy mother … my eyes closed in pure delight. I devoured my food quickly not just because of my hunger pangs, but also because then I didn’t have to engage in conversation. Although I had a million more questions, there was an awkwardness between my father and me.

After I finished the last bite, and put my fork down on the cleared plate, I realized I would have to sit here while everyone else finished their food. Gah.

I took a moment to look around the room, to see the faces of the people within the Institute. The changes in their outward appearance still came as a shock to me. The toxic mist had definitely done a bang up job of altering the human species—most of us at least. Not everyone looked as if they were dressed for a Halloween party, but plenty of them would never have to shop for a costume again.

My father noticed my wandering gaze. “How much do you know of the apocalypse?”

Great, I could sense a lecture coming on. My father liked to talk. I swore he loved the sound of his own voice. Folding my hands in my lap, I sat back and prepared myself. “Just bits and pieces. I know it was a toxic mist that swept through the world, transforming everything in its path.”

He nodded, forking the eggs on his plate. “The day of the apocalypse, the stars and the moon aligned, but the universe had nothing to do with the end of the world. It was a man who destroyed earth and everything on it, altering the world in ways we could never imagine—including humans.”

“I more or less got that part already. Those who didn’t make it fast enough inside the safe houses were affected by the mist. The longer the exposure, the greater the mutation.”

“Yes,” he agreed.

“I’ve seen Monroe, or I should say Ember. Her cells were altered like mine. What about you and Mom? Did either of you have symptoms?” I asked.

He swallowed. “I’m glad you brought that up. I am very interested in what you can do. There were rumors about the girl Dash traveled with. Little did we know at the time that it was you. I’ve heard you have extraordinary gifts.”

He’d completely dodged my question and circled the conversation back to me—not to mention, to a topic I wasn’t precisely comfortable talking to him about yet. Dash had warned me that the Institute would love to get their hands on me. Well, they had me now. What did that mean for my future?

I shrugged. The less I revealed, the better, until I understood the full ramifications. “I don’t really know. I haven’t had the chance to learn how to control it. Obviously, my eyes have changed.”

The lines on my father’s forehead relaxed. “They are very unique. Then again, unique is the new norm here in the Heights. And don’t worry, you’ll be able to discover how to harness your abilities here. It is part of what we do at the Institute. We have a division that helps the Gifted understand and maximize the changes in their genetic makeup.”

He made it all sound so welcoming, like a community, but I couldn’t help having reservations. I wanted to see it for myself. And I got the chance to.

After lunch, Dr. Winston and the two guards continued their tour of the facility.

Floor four housed the medical and research divisions. White walls. Cabinets. Large glass windows. And more closed doors. We walked into one of the rooms without knocking.

“This is the sector of the Institute that has been studying the altered DNA. Your mother oversees this division.”

No surprise. My mom had been a geneticist before the mist. “Is she here?” No sooner had I asked the question, than a figure with red hair much like mine glided into the room. Strands of gold wove throughout it, but not an ounce of gray that I could see. The woman wore a familiar white lab coat that flowed with her movements, and when her vibrant blue eyes met mine, they went wide.

I gasped. Tears gathered in the woman’s eyes as she caught sight of me standing just inside the room beside my father. “Mom?” I whispered.

“Oh, Charlotte.” She engulfed me in a hug and kissed my temple, surrounding me in a sweet scent that defied description but I had always associated with her. “I can’t believe it. Both my girls found and safe.”

My arms slowly came up to wrap around her. I didn’t know what my problem was. I should have been overjoyed. This was what I had wanted since I opened my eyes, and yet, I couldn’t muster up emotions of excitement or happiness. Really, I shouldn’t have to try. They should have been there… but they weren’t.

She pulled back and framed my face with her cool hands. “Look at those eyes.”

I blinked. “Wild, right?”

She tucked my hair behind both my ears. “I think they are beautiful. They suit you.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m so sorry we weren’t there when you woke. I can’t imagine how terrified you must have been.”

My lips lifted in a sheepish grin. “It’s okay, really. I got lucky. I had someone who helped.”

Mom’s expression went flat. “Dash,” she supplied.

Was he going to be a constant touchy subject around here? “He saved me.”

A haunted look entered her eyes. “He violated protocol, Charlotte. If he had left you, we would have found you sooner. And you wouldn’t have had to survive in the Heights on your own.”

There was that. The very last thing I wanted to do was argue with my mom, so I let it go, keeping silent.

A man stepped into the room from somewhere behind my mother carrying a tray. My eyes went straight to the sharp-tipped needle he held.

“This is Dr. Marks,” Mom introduced him.

“Is everyone a doctor around here?”

Mom let out a little chuckle. “I see she hasn’t lost her sarcasm.”

Some things were innate, including my sudden intuition that this was more than just a family reunion. Dr. Marks wanted my blood. Why else would he have a syringe and a couple of vials on his tray?

“Is this necessary?” I asked, retreating and suddenly thinking my prison on the seven floor wasn’t so bad.

“I’m afraid so, Muffin. Everyone that steps foot into the Institute must go through the screening process. It’s no big deal. Standard procedure,” Dr. Winston assured me.

I snorted. The large syringe sitting on the surgical tray said otherwise. I hated needles. “I’d rather not.”

“You don’t have a choice. You were out there for weeks. This is for your own good,” my father said in a steady voice.

“Don’t worry,” Mom added, patting my hand. “I’ll be with you the whole time. I haven’t forgotten how much needles upset you.”

Upset? Upset put it mildly. I once puked my Happy Meal all over a nurse who had tried to give me a shot. “There is nothing wrong with me,” I insisted, tugging my hand from underneath hers. “And I refuse to be used as a lab rat.”

Dr. Winston frowned. “You’re being difficult, Charlotte. There is no reason to make a scene.”

Damn right I would make a scene. If it got me out of being poked or losing unnecessary blood, I was going to raise the roof in this place. I’d already been stuck with one of their needles. “How do I know you’re not going to inject me again with some kind of drug?”

“I told you that was only to protect you. There is no danger inside the Institute. If you cooperate, there will be no need for other methods.”

That did nothing to calm my anxiety. Not. At. All.

The two guards came to stand on either side of me, each placing a hand on my arm. “Struggle,” Trist whispered in my ear, “I dare you.” Something in his voice told me he would like that … a little too much.

I elbowed the asshole in the gut, my heart rate soaring.

Shit went sideways at that point.

Not that it mattered. I wouldn’t be able to overpower them, and yet, it didn’t stop me from trying. A pair of strong arms wrapped around me from behind like vise grips. The dark inky veins were a dead giveaway. Trist. I kicked and bucked, but it was wasted energy.

“Let’s make this quick,” I heard my mother say.

Pressure clamped down on my chest, signaling I stood on the brink of a panic attack. There was a quick sting in my shoulder. I jerked, letting out a squeal. I’d been jabbed with a needle, and the drugs they injected began to ribbon into my system. In less than a minute, the room spun, going dark, and then it was lights out for Charlotte.

* * *

When I woke, I lay on a table, staring into a bright white light. My arm muscles were sore, and I rubbed at them, trying to chase away the pain. I’d gotten my exam after all. I just hadn’t been conscious, and honestly, that scared me more than the needles. Hindsight was a bitch.

In a numb haze, I sat up. Talk about one hell of a screwed up reunion. Hi, honey, I know it’s been a hundred years and I missed you, but before we catch up, how about you give me a tube of blood?

Did they have a therapist on staff? Because I needed a lifetime of sessions to get over the crap that was happening to me.

And the worst part? It had only begun.