CHAPTER FIVE
Two years after that dreaded day Adam Rain had overtaken Area 51, Cassandra pulled her wool-lined coat around her chilled neck, her heels clicking on the red-brick path that led away from the German military hospital where she’d worked for nearly two years. Her coworkers had left hours ago for the New Year’s festivities she had no desire to take part in. She’d take her rented G.I. Joe DVD and microwave popcorn and be just fine. She didn’t mind being alone. In fact, she preferred it, found peace in it. She simply hadn’t been ready for relationships—neither male nor female. Not after the two people she thought she’d known—Michael and her father—had proven, despite all her clinical skills, that she was incapable of evaluating those closest to her.
Even now, she would catch herself replaying Michael’s parting words, trying to understand why he’d been so adamant about hiding the mark if he wasn’t trying to protect her, if he was really loyal to Adam and his Zodius movement. She shook herself, murmuring a word of frustration. She was doing it again, tearing herself up inside with the unanswered questions. Trying to make a traitor into a hero.
The few months she’d spent at a Texas air force base right after the Zodius uprising hadn’t been far enough away from Groom Lake. She’d never considered herself a coward, but maybe she was—because she’d simply wanted out. Away. She wanted to forget. She didn’t even ask what was happening with Adam. There wasn’t any news of some massive Zodius takeover, and Adam wasn’t coming after her. That was enough for her.
A snowflake fluttered in front of her. Another touched her nose. She loved the snow. She loved this job where she counseled rather than researched. She wasn’t sure how she’d gotten away from that aspect of the field. She liked her life. She liked the food, especially German pasta—she adored spaetzle. And she liked—the rest of her thought was lost as the wind gusted around her, blowing her a step backwards. The snow began to fall faster, mixed with ice that pelted against the pavement. She cast a furtive look around the nearly vacant parking lot a few feet away. There was no sign of trouble. No GTECH—Renegade or Zodius. No Adam. No…Michael. God, would she ever stop looking for him in the wind? Hoping he’d come to her and explain everything, hoping everything wasn’t as it seemed.
Quickening her pace, Cassandra clicked the lock on the silver Audi that had replaced her Beetle—a little luxury for once, a luxury she’d decided she deserved. She was about to get into the car, when a black sedan with dark windows pulled up. The back window rolled down. “How’s my favorite daughter?”
Her heart stopped beating for an instant. She wasn’t sure if she were more shocked just to see her father—who she had not seen since her move—or to see him out of uniform, in a designer-looking, black suit. “Father?” she said, questioning the obvious, reeling with disbelief. “What are you doing here?” The wind gusted again, snow and ice plastering her hair against her head and face, reminding her why leaving her hat in the car was a bad idea.
“Get in, sweetheart,” he said. “You’re getting wet.” The door popped open.
She stood there, staring at the door, her heart randomly charging and stalling. Tears prickled in her eyes, and she was thankful for the snow. She hadn’t cried since that first night in the hospital when she had faced Michael’s betrayal. And her father’s actions, both at Groom Lake and then in the aftermath, when she’d caught glimpses of a desperate man trying to save himself no matter what the expense. But she’d dealt with these things. Or so she thought. Yet now emotion filled her chest like a heavy block of steel, crushing her.
With a slow, calming breath, she forced herself to slide into the double-seated back, directly across from him. He reached for the door and pulled it shut, leaning back as he brushed the snow away from his jacket.
“What’s going on, Father?” Even as she asked the question, a stark, cold memory filled her—of asking that same question that day at Groom Lake.
He arched a brow. “No ‘how are you?’ ‘Happy New Year?’ No hug for Dad?”
“I’d prefer skipping the part where we pretend everything is okay,” she said. “We both know you didn’t come to Germany to wish me a happy New Year.”
He offered her a file. She ignored it, didn’t want it.
“Take it, Cassandra,” he said.
Her lips thinned. “Whatever you’re up to now, Father, I want no part of it.”
“Adam’s Zodius Army has been attacking our naval bases,” he said. “They claimed a New Mexico base and another in Texas. Men are dying. Good men. And you can help prevent that. Take the file, Cassandra.”
She didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t want to know this. But…now she did, now she couldn’t pretend she didn’t know. She took the file, her gaze flickering over the label “Red Dart” and underneath that “PMI Research,” then back to him. “What is ‘Red Dart,’ and who is this PMI?”
“PMI is my private company, and Red Dart is a tracking device we’ve developed that will allow us to tag the Zodius during attacks, like we do animals in the wild. It enters the bloodstream and becomes permanent. It then alerts us to their approach. This program will allow us to save lives and capture the enemy.”
“I still don’t see what this has to do with me.”
“I’ve got a meeting in Washington on Monday morning, and I’ve asked Caleb Rain to attend as the leader of the GTECH Renegades. I’d like you to be there as well.”
She handed him back the file. “That’s not going to happen.”
He leaned forward and took her hand. “My daughter, the angel of my eye,” he said, his voice rough with emotion, “I have made mistakes. I hurt you. I know this. But I swear to you that everything I did was meant to protect the country I love and the daughter I worship. I knew what Michael was—I knew he was using you.”
Hatred laced his voice, and Cassandra couldn’t blame him for that. Michael had tried to kill him, though knowing her father, the embarrassment of Michael making him look a fool was probably more like it. Michael—a man who’d stolen her heart, had almost ripped it out. Pain knifed through Cassandra, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Every passing day, every day that he didn’t appear, reminded her that he was Zodius, no matter how much she didn’t want to believe it to be true.
“I have to fix the tragedy that Project Zodius has become,” her father continued, squeezing her hand and willing her to look at him.
Cassandra opened her eyes, stared into the desperate plea in her father’s face, so out-of-character, and felt her insides unraveling, felt him tugging her into his world again.
“Adam’s Zodius Nation is nothing short of a cult,” he said. “Some of those GTECH soldiers following Zodius can be saved. If anyone can make that happen once we have them in custody, it’s you.” He squeezed her hand again. “Stand by my side, daughter. Show the world you believe in me, and I will not fail you or them.”
“In the six months since Powell’s return to duty, I’ve been hearing these claims that he can control the GTECHs with Red Dart. And I’ve looked over the data Lucian collected from his White House informant with some excitement. However, there is absolutely nothing here that allows me to create the Red Dart program. Certainly nothing that even remotely indicates it works on GTECHs. In fact, just the opposite. The research shows Red Dart is destroyed by the GTECH immune system.”
The announcement, made by Dr. Edward Reed, the frail, fifty-something scientist, displeased Adam. In fact, he was so fucking not pleased, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to reach across the desk and wring Reed’s scrawny little neck or turn around and grab Lucian Brody—the Zodius soldier who’d made this White House contact—and pull his balls through his throat. He grabbed Reed’s laptop from his desk and flung it against the two-way shatterproof glass panel. The computer hit the floor with a thud, plastic pieces bouncing off the tiled floor.
Silence swelled in the room while the two other men, one GTECH and one human, stared at each other. Adam waited for one of them to say the wrong thing—that would let him know which one would die today. Because one of them needed to die.
“Red Dart is the reason Powell was reinstated—with I might add, a promotion,” Lucian argued defensively, anger seething in his voice as he glared at Reed. “It’s why they created the role of security advisor to the secretary of state and acquired funding for a new Nevada air force base twice the size of Groom Lake’s Area 51. He is calling it Dreamland. The government is afraid of the GTECHs, all of us. They only pretend allegiance to the Renegades to gain their protection from us. Powell promised the joint chiefs of staff that his company, PMI, is no more than a few weeks from having Red Dart GTECH-ready. There are troops being transferred to Powell’s new Dreamland facility to prepare for a full-scale attack on both the Zodius and Renegade bases even as we speak. I’m working on getting more details about his attack plans now.”
Reed pressed his dark glasses up his nose and straightened. His lower lip quivered with fear. “While this information sounds quite daunting, nothing in the data Lucian has given us supports such claims. This file holds nothing but a detailed documentation trail of failed attempts to use Red Dart against enemies of the United States government. They were able to bind the alien chemical component to the humans’ blood, which makes them sensitive to sound waves. When they activated the sound device for torture, it killed the humans. Painfully. It became a kill switch rather than a torture mechanism. Red Dart was ruled inhumane and terminated. The file was sealed fifty years ago.”
Adam jerked around and leaned on Reed’s desk, shoving his face into the other man’s. “And what’s wrong with a little inhumane?” he asked. “Fucking. Love. It. And I fully intend to use it on both humans and GTECHs. Do you understand?” Reed nodded, turning ashen, and Adam continued, “Then you get me Red Dart ready for humans while we wait on the GTECH formula, and you do it now.” A little torture, a few high-profile dead bodies, and he’d own the White House—hell, he’d own every government in existence. Once he had the GTECHs fully controlled as well—there would be no stopping him.
“Red Dart is administered by a laser,” Reed said, his voice shaking. “The laser is created by a crystal. I have to have that crystal or there is no Red Dart.”
Adam pushed off the desk, ready to fling the doctor through the window this time. Already the man had failed to re-create the GTECH serum. The alien DNA protected itself from duplication, and they did not have the original DNA sample. Now, while Adam’s scientists sought a way around the problem, Adam was forced to grow his following with lesser beings, with humans. But he was dealing with the problem the way all great leaders dealt with problems—creatively. If he could not convert the humans, they would simply have to become his pets.
“I still think we should ransom Cassandra Powell for the crystal.” The female voice came from the doorway.
Adam looked dismissively past Lucian, to find his Lifebond, Ava, standing in the doorway, her long, red hair draped over her lab coat, and one of the many wolves Adam commanded at her feet. Adam’s gaze traveled possessively to the beginning of a baby bump lifting around Ava’s stomach, the heir to the kingdom he was building. One day soon, Ava would discover the secret to creating Lifebond matches who would produce GTECH offspring.
“Powell won’t negotiate,” he told her. “Not even for his daughter. No general worth his salt would.”
She looked thoughtful, walking farther into the room. “Then send Michael to seduce her into getting the crystal,” she said. “He had her once. I’m quite confident he can have her again.”
“He tried to kill her father,” Adam reminded her.
“But he didn’t,” she said. “Michael will tell her he never intended to either. That he always loved her. That he protected her. That he can no longer stay away. He’ll tell her he wants to save humankind, and she can help him—by helping him locate, and destroy, the crystal. Once he has the crystal, I’m sure he can manipulate an answer as to how to use it on GTECHs. Though, I must say—human application of Red Dart might be enough. Once we use it on say, the president of the United States, and we hold his kill-switch, I find it doubtful Caleb will do anything but obey your commands.”
A slow, satisfied smile slid onto Adam’s lips. “I like the way you think, Lifebond.”
Calmness overcame him, his mind finding the peace that only she could give. And with that came clarity. Michael would get him Red Dart. Michael had never failed him.
She was at a fancy Washington, D.C. party when it happened, wishing herself back to the comfy, secluded confines of the Vegas condo she’d rented upon her return from Germany six months ago. It was the moment that Cassandra had longed for, yet dreaded for over two years. That moment that, deep down, she had always known would come.
It started with a soft breeze that seemed to lift the sound of music and laughter and funnel it around her. Calling to her. Demanding her attention. Instantly, memories washed over her, of the fire of his touch, the spice of his kiss, the warmth of his body pressed close to hers.
Slowly, her gaze shifted from the displays of delicate finger foods and flocks of uniforms and elegant gowns to the sheer curtains caressing the double-paned patio doors. A familiar tingling sensation touched the mark on the back of her neck. Her hand shook as she set her champagne glass on the table and watched a waiter push the doors shut.
Michael. God, Michael was here. She could feel his presence as easily as she did her own breath within her chest. She’d hoped the mark would fade with time away from him, but it had not, and neither had the bond.
With a deep breath that did nothing to calm the racing of her heart, Cassandra pushed off her chair, her floor-length, white chiffon dress clinging to her petite frame as she began weaving her way through the crowd, past elaborate floral arrangements, and a dance floor filled with perfectly learned ballroom dancing.
Her mind was already far from the purpose of the night’s festivities, but she was forced to stop and shake hands with the daughter of the visiting Mexican dignitary they were honoring tonight. Cassandra’s father, now a White House security advisor, wanted to nurture the relationship, considering Mexico’s close proximity to Zodius activity. He’d managed an alliance—albeit an uneasy one—with Caleb’s Renegades, and he was close to unveiling some cutting-edge technology, which would even the odds against Adam’s Zodius soldiers. These were good things. Things that made her not regret her decision to return to the States.
Finally, Cassandra managed to break away from the crowd and paused as she reached the double-glass doors, pressing her palm to her fluttering stomach. Born of nerves, not fear. In fact, as more of that fanciful laughter bubbled up behind her, Cassandra was struck by the irony of the blissful party when a silent war against humanity was well under way. Michael was a part of that war, she reminded herself.
Angry now, Cassandra yanked open the door and stepped onto the patio, the hot night suffocating her with eerie stillness. Her nerve endings prickled, bristled, screamed with awareness an instant before the wind gently lifted, blowing wisps of her long blonde hair worn straight and to her shoulders, around her face.
A musical sound shimmered in the air, drawing her attention to a wind chime hanging at the edge of a walkway. Michael wanted her to follow that path. And much to Cassandra’s dismay, Michael’s way of using the wind to communicate warmed her limbs, wickedly declaring she still wanted him. And that uncontrollable want, which bordered on need, delivered a dose of the fear she’d thought she’d left behind. In fact, it downright terrified her. But she was out here now, and she was quite certain that he wasn’t going away until she went to him.
Shaking inside, Cassandra inhaled another breath and started forward, following the lighted walkway that twisted and curved and ended at a dimly lit gazebo. In the same instant she stepped inside the structure, he emerged from the shadows, potently male, a presence that expanded, consumed her, downright stole her breath. A presence more powerful than she even remembered. The scent of him—male, musky, uniquely Michael—flared in her nostrils and rippled a path along her nerve endings.
His long, black hair touched broad shoulders and framed that powerful square jaw she’d touched and kissed so often. He towered over her, reminding her of a sleek, muscled panther, hungry and ready to feast. On her. And Lord help her, as she stared into those intelligent, unnaturally black eyes that seemed to see straight to her soul, a part of her that she had no control over wanted him to.
“You look more beautiful than ever, Cassandra.”
His voice swept along her nerve endings with a velvety smooth slide, licking at her limbs with fire. She hugged herself against the sudden heaviness in her breasts, the ache of her nipples—against the wanton reaction that had to be about the mark on her neck. This man had tried to kill her father. He was trying to destroy humanity. He was the enemy, and she was here for answers. And for anything they could use to defeat Zodius.
She drew her spine stiff. “Why are you here, Michael?”
“You’re in danger,” he said softly.
“If I’m in danger, it’s from you,” she bit out through her teeth.
“And yet here you stand,” he pointed out, challenge etching his chiseled features.
“To protect everyone else in that building,” she quickly countered.
He arched a disbelieving brow. “So you bravely put yourself in harm’s way.” One corner of his far-too-inviting mouth lifted. “Or maybe you simply remember I’m the kind of ‘dangerous’ you enjoy.”
It was a familiar sensual taunt he’d used in the past, and unbidden, the words drew an image of Michael’s hard body pressed tightly against hers, of his hand sliding up her dress. Cassandra squeezed her eyes shut and silently cursed. Her lashes lifted, and she cast him an accusing glare. How powerful had Michael become? Could he place such a thought in her mind?
He laughed and held up his hands. “Don’t look at me like that, Cassandra. Whatever thoughts that wickedly lovely mind of yours conjured up were all your own. And don’t tell me they weren’t wicked. We both know you have a way with creative imagery.” His hands slowly lowered, those sensual lips lifting at the corners ever-so-slightly. “I do believe I’d like to hear what you were thinking now.”
“Oh, they were wicked thoughts all right,” she said. “And they were, indeed, full of creative imagery. I’ve had two years to contemplate all kinds of interesting ways to kill a GTECH as powerful as you.”
“And I’ve had two years to dream of touching you again.” He inhaled. “You still want me. I can smell your arousal.”
“This is insane,” she said. “I shouldn’t have come out here.” She turned, started to walk away, but quickly regretted the action. Damn him. Damn him! She would not retreat. She’d waited too long for this confrontation.
Cassandra whirled around to face him and sucked in a breath as she found him in close pursuit; she barely kept her hands from settling on his chest as she steadied herself. They were toe-to-toe now, so close her body ached, so close she could lean forward and touch him. She hated herself for wanting to.
“What makes you think you have the right to say such things to me?” she demanded, frustrated that her voice trembled. “You followed Adam and his Zodius movement. You tried to kill my father.” Her words rasped deeper, her fingers curling in her palms.
“If I had wanted your father dead, he’d be dead.”
Cassandra swallowed hard at the lethal quality in his voice, ground her teeth at the memory of Michael holding a blade to her father’s neck. “I was there. I saw the blade at his throat. I saw the blood.” The memory shook her, and she stepped backwards, a mistake when she was so close to the edge of the stairs. She stumbled, losing her balance and almost taking a tumble. Michael reached for her, steadying her, as if he were her protector. Thighs pressed to thighs. Hips pressed to hips. The world disappeared. The man and everything he’d meant to her reappeared. In those few seconds, she both reveled in the feel of him close to her again and silently cried at the loss.
“Let go,” she whispered. He narrowed his gaze, defiance settling there. “Let go, Michael!”
Instead, he kissed her, one hand threading through her hair, the other molding her hips to his. His tongue possessively pressing past her lips, coaxing a response. Cassandra tried to resist, her hands pressing against him, her intention to push him away. Instead, heat seared her palms and spread warmth up her arms. And the taste of him, wildly Michael, rushed through her like a gust of hot, sensual wind. Consuming her. Melting her. Oh God, melting her resistance.
And just when she knew she was lost, when she could hold back no more, he released her, stepping away. Giving her space that she both wanted and hated all in the same instant. She hugged herself against the ache in her body and the heat of his stare.
“My response means nothing. It’s the mark.”
“You kissed me like that before that mark ever existed,” he reminded her. “And we both know it.” His voice softened. His eyes too. “I didn’t betray you, Cassandra. When it was clear that the Renegades could not defeat Adam, we needed someone on the inside of Adam’s operation. I was X2 positive. Adam believed I had reason to follow him.”
She could barely breathe, barely think. “But you didn’t tell me?” Emotions collided inside her, a desperate part of her wanting to believe his words. Another part reminding herself not to be naive, not to let down her guard. “What do you want from me, Michael?”
“I want you, Cassandra. Make no mistake about that.” His words were firm, powerful. Possessive. “But if Adam had known you wore my mark, he would have demanded you be hunted down and brought to Zodius City. And there was no way in hell I was allowing you anywhere near Zodius City. You couldn’t know the truth, Cassandra. It was too dangerous.”
Her heart thundered in her chest. “Then why are you telling me now?”
“Project Red Dart,” he said, dropping the term as if he were testing her knowledge.
Her chest tightened at his mention of the top-secret program. Oh God, he was trying to use her. This was all one big trick. “Red Dart?” she asked, feigning ignorance.
“Adam knows about it, Cassandra.”
That was impossible. There were only a handful of people who knew about Red Dart for fear of leaks to Adam. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Red Dart is a laser beam created by a crystal that shoots a chemical into the bloodstream of the target. The target is then tracked,” he paused, “and tortured, sometimes to the point of death.”
Her mouth dropped open in a near gasp that she struggled to contain. He was wrong, but telling him so meant admitting she knew about Red Dart.
“You didn’t know about the torture part, did you?” he asked, then softly added, “I knew you would never support such a thing.”
He was serious. He really thought Red Dart was a torture device. “Of course, I wouldn’t,” she agreed. “You have no idea what you are talking about.” There wasn’t any torture involved with Red Dart. Oh God. Please let there not be any torture involved with Red Dart. The idea that a GTECH could be ordered to do anything—no matter how unethical or wrong—or risk torture, was not a possibility she wanted to consider. Please let her father really be making things right as he’d promised.
“Did you know he’s promised the secretary of state that all GTECHs, Renegade and Zodius alike, will be under his complete control within sixty days?”
“Oh no,” she said, shaking her head in instant rejection. “He would never act against the Renegades. And damn it, Michael, there is no torture involved with Red Dart. We don’t even water board our enemies. We sure as heck aren’t going to insert some sort of torture mechanism that would do Lord-only-knows what to them.”
“Yet that is exactly what your father intends. Just like at Groom Lake, he is driven by a personal agenda that endangers innocent lives. There were two men on the military tribunal for your father, both ready to put him away for life. Both died of brain aneurysms. A very unlikely coincidence.”
“What does that have to do with any of this?”
“There’s a drug called ‘Stardust’ that was developed at Groom Lake. It causes brain aneurysms,” he said. “It’s an alien substance that won’t show up in blood testing. I know this because Adam confiscated a supply when he took over your father’s operation.”
She gripped the railing. “I know all too well what my father did in the past.” Her father was here, trying to fix the mistakes he’d made at Groom Lake. Michael had been gone two years. Michael had been with Adam. “He’s trying to defend us against a Zodius takeover. He needs the Renegades to defeat Adam, and he knows that.”
“Why then, has he told Caleb nothing about Red Dart?” he asked dryly.
“It’s classified.”
“Right. Classified. Well here’s something else ‘classified.’ Both Adam and your father want to use Red Dart to control all the GTECHs. As for Adam, once the GTECHs are under his control, he plans to take it even a step further. He plans to use it on humans. On every government and financial powerhouse in the world. I need your help, Cassandra. We have to destroy that crystal so that no one can abuse it—not Adam, not your father. Because it can destroy the world.”
She didn’t know where Red Dart was even if she wanted to destroy it. But that wasn’t the only problem…there was also that thing called trust. “How do you know any of this?”
“Like your father,” he said, “we have friends in the White House.”
He had a fast answer for everything. “You said my connection to you puts me in danger,” she said. “So why are you here, and not Caleb?”
“That danger I spoke of,” he said. “It is me, Cassandra. Adam sent me here to seduce you into helping him. And if I don’t convince him I’ve done my job, he’ll send someone else for you. And their method of persuasion will not be seduction.”
Cassandra gasped at the same moment that her father’s voice filled the air. “Cassandra!”
Michael reached for her, pulling her tight against his body, one powerful arm anchoring their hips together and rendering her immobile. “There will be a package at your hotel desk tonight,” he said. “A phone you can use to contact Caleb without being traced. He’ll confirm I’m telling the truth.”
“Cassandra!”
Her heart kicked into double-time as her father’s voice grew closer. “If my father finds you, he’ll order the guards to kill you.”
“We both know they would not succeed.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, and then lifted, sensual hunger charging the air as if he were more concerned with kissing her than he was with his own life.
“You might be willing to take a chance with the guards, but I’m not.” She shoved at his arm. “Go now, Michael.”
A hint of satisfaction flared in his dark eyes, as if she had said she cared about him when she had not. He ran his hand roughly through her hair, his lips inches from hers. His breath, warm and tempting. He was sin and satisfaction, and damn him, she wasn’t sure she could ever escape him.
“Don’t go trying to save the world without me,” he warned. “Trust no one, Cassandra. Especially those closest to your father.”
“I’ve learned not to trust,” she bit back, feeling exposed, vulnerable. “Thanks to you.”
His eyes darkened, his mood shifting with the stir of the wind. “I know all too well what you think of me,” he said, as he abruptly released her. “I’ll return for you soon.” The wind gusted in a powerful surge, as if he wanted to taunt her father with his presence. A second later, Michael was gone.
The absence of his touch and the promise of his return flowed through her as a deep ache. No matter how she had tried to deny it, she’d wished for the day he would come for her, that he would have a reason for having left her that made sense. But she was no fool. Despite their physical attraction, he’d come back for Red Dart. Not for her.
“Cassandra!” Her father’s voice forced her to pull herself together, or at least try. The world felt like it was crumbling around her, but somehow, she painted on a calm expression and turned to find her father at the edge of the gazebo. “You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he reprimanded the instant he spotted Cassandra, his face etched with apprehension. If he had his way, she’d have guards by her side 24-7. He was certain that one day Michael would contact her, try to use her again. And tonight, he had.
“I needed air, Father.” She managed to sound nonchalant, but she could feel herself shaking inside.
“The wind, you shouldn’t be out in the wind.”
“The wind, Father, has been gusting all night,” she assured him, walking down the stairs and latching her arm onto his.
His gaze skimmed the gazebo and then the surrounding area as the wind began to fade. “You’re sure?”
“Quite,” she said, urging him back to the party. “And I find the fresh wind far more appealing than the stuffy cigar smoke that drove me outside in the first place.”
Slowly, he relaxed and smiled. “General Roberts?”
“Isn’t it always?” She smiled brightly, her mind racing with the implications of all Michael had said. She squeezed her father’s arm more tightly. She didn’t want Michael to be right about him. But she didn’t want Michael to be lying. And even if Caleb backed Michael’s statement, it still didn’t mean they were right about Red Dart. It simply meant she had to prove them wrong.
“They are about to cut the cake,” her father said, pulling her back into the moment. “I know how you love your sweets.”
She smiled and agreed, somehow making small talk as they walked down the path, somehow presenting a façade of happy and lighthearted. But in the back of Cassandra’s mind, she knew a storm was coming. And that storm had a name: Michael.