Chapter 24

You’ve surprised me, Theodora. You might be useful to the family after all.

—Marshall Hyde to Theodora Marshall (9 December 2063)

“IF ALL THESE flashbacks are indeed pieces of memory,” Theo said, while Yakov sat next to her vibrating with rage, “then when I came out of the anesthesia I did it faster than they expected. Looking back, I think it must’ve been because of my brother. He either did something, or that two percent of our bond did something, and I was a little stronger than I should’ve been.”

“What did they do to you?”

“My head hurt. So much.” She lifted her fingers to one temple, pressed. “Through it I heard them in pieces. The only thing I remember now is that they had to stop midway because Pax collapsed on the other side of the world.”

She looked up, her eyes dark pools. “Midway. That means they got halfway through the procedure before my bond with Pax forced them to stop.” Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. “And I have no idea what that procedure was.”

Yakov couldn’t sit in the car any longer. Shoving his door open, he stalked out into the cold night air and all the way to the edge of the lookout. It had no barriers, nothing to protect against a drop, but he was a changeling, the physical natural to him. A bear might not be as graceful as a tiger or a wolf, but they could take a lot of knocks and keep on going.

When he heard the passenger-side door open behind him, he turned to watch Theo walk toward him, a slender woman with golden hair and eyes made of shock—within whom lived a volcanic anger.

It spoke to his own.

“I knew Psy hurt their children,” he said as the wind rippled through that single escaped lock of her hair. “But like this?” Cubs were to be protected; it was one of the founding tenets of life.

“I grew up in that culture,” she murmured, her cheekbones sharp against her skin, “and even I can’t believe my grandfather would do that to me. I still trusted him then. He was such an important part of my life that trusting him was habit. Like the sky is blue and the grass is green, Marshall Hyde knew best.”

She swallowed hard. “Only . . . I’d begun to say no to things he asked me to do. Small things. But I knew they were wrong.” Her eyes on Moscow, as if she’d rather look anywhere than at him, she said, “There are Tks who can affect the cells of the body itself. The rarest of the rare.”

Yakov tried to clear his mind so he could think. “You’re one of them?”

A laugh that was mechanical, a rusty clock left unwound too long. “If only. No, I’m exactly what I appear to be: an ordinary everyday 2.7. I know because I was tested intensively for Tk-Cell status because of what I can do: I have fine control over that 2.7. I could move tiny components with dexterity at an age when most Tks are still accidentally breaking cups or chairs or desks, depending on their strength.”

Theo shoved her hands into the pockets of his jacket again, and only then did he consciously realize she’d put it back on after the restaurant.

His bear rumbled, pleased.

“Do you know how many things a 2.7 can do if they have intensely fine psychic control?”

The day ran through Yakov’s mind. “Walk through locked doors, for one.”

“Yes. At first, he had me practice with locks at home until I could undo almost any. It was a game. I liked it.” Echoes of childhood pain escaped her rigid control. “Then late one night, long after I was asleep, one of his men came, drove me to a small apartment block, and asked me to unlock a particular door. I did it and they took me home.

“It was years later, long after I’d stopped doing anything my grandfather wanted, that I discovered that a man was found murdered in that same apartment. Under ordinary circumstances, Tks have excellent memories—I knew the date, the time I went in. He died within minutes of me circumventing his lock. No forced entry. Nothing to set off his alarm system. Unsolved homicide.”

If Yakov had had any illusions about Psy under Silence, they lay in splinters at his feet—and Theo wasn’t done.

“As a child, I thought it was a game or that I was helping Grandfather’s friends get into their houses after they forgot their codes. Then the game changed. He gave me part of a car engine—I didn’t know what it was then—and told me to learn how to fragment a tiny piece hidden deep within. Such a small piece that even a 2.7 would have no trouble at all with the force required.

“In such a situation, it’s more about accuracy than strength.” Theo continued to refuse to look at him. “A lot of high-Gradient Tks can’t do subtle telekinesis. Their power is too unwieldy at that scale. Quite the opposite of mine. I felt important when he first told me that I might be able to be useful to the family after all. I thought he’d let me come home if I studied hard and did as he asked.”

Yakov’s claws thrust at the insides of his skin, wanting out, his bear enraged at this cynical and cruel manipulation of a child who’d just wanted to come home.

Theo carried on, as if she couldn’t stop now that she’d started. “I was given access to a private garage in my apartment building where I could go anytime to look at the right model of engine so I could memorize the position of the part. Spatial placement is critical to a Tk.”

Yakov felt a sick twisting in the pit of his stomach, but he didn’t interrupt. Theo needed to get this poison out of her system. She’d been carrying it around for far too long.

“Then one day, Grandfather picked me up and said we were going for a drive. He told me he was very pleased with my results when it came to the telekinetic test he’d set me. I was so happy. And after a while, I saw that we were behind the exact make and model of the car I’d been ordered to study, and he asked me to ‘disrupt’ that piece of the engine.”

Gaze still pinned to the Moscow skyline, her breathing ragged. “I said ‘No, Grandfather. That will break the car.’ Because I knew that by then. I’ve always been good at technical things and I’d looked up what that part meant. It was critical. Disabling it in high-speed transit would’ve meant certain death for the driver.”

“Bozhe, pchelka.” It was ground out through his teeth. “You were a damn baby!”

“I said no that day and another day.” Her shoulders hunched in. “But you see, Yakov, I stopped saying no at some point.” No distance in her voice now, just jagged shards rough and brutal. “I have only foggy memories of multiple years of my childhood . . . but when I came out of the fog, I did so with blood coating my hands. So much blood.”

“No, fuck no.” Yakov moved into her line of sight so she could no longer avoid his gaze. Then he took her chin between thumb and forefinger, because the two of them, they’d come to a silent understanding on a limited level of skin privileges. “You were manipulated and had your brain fucking rewired. This is not on you.”

Theo wanted to clutch at his words and never look back, but it wasn’t that easy. “Or is that what I want to believe, Yasha?” That affectionate diminutive of his name, it felt so easy on her tongue, as if she had the right to say it. “What if I said yes because I wanted to please him? What if I became a monster in order to earn the approval of a monster? And what if I don’t remember because I’m too ashamed to remember?”

Yakov’s chest rumbled, a distant thunderstorm. “You were a cub.” He said each word with delineated focus. “No matter what, you are not to blame.”

“But I need to know.” She found herself gripping the solid heft of his wrist, squeezing. “I need to know if what they did to me in that place made me more likely to say yes. I need to know what damage they burned into my neurons. Maybe then . . . maybe then, I can forgive myself.”

Forgiveness hadn’t even been a thought in her brain for years upon years, since the day she came out of the fog and understood the horror of what she’d become. “I’ve spent years tracking down murders tied to my powers. There are so many. It doesn’t matter that I was a child. The body count is too high for me to ever forgive if I chose that path.”

He made a deep rumbling sound this time, and then he was hauling her against him and wrapping her up in his arms, and she’d never in her life felt so warm and safe and protected. And though she’d spent a lifetime teaching herself to rely on no one, she clung on. “I need to know.” It came out a shaken whisper.

His hand cradling the back of her head, his breath warm against her temple. “Then we find out.”

A vow that rang through her bones. And she knew this man would keep his word. He’d do everything in his power to find her the answers she needed. For better or worse. Because at the end of it . . . she might yet discover herself a murderer who’d traded the lives of others for her own happiness.

YAKOV wanted to hold on to Theo forever, tormented by the image of her as a tiny helpless child strapped down and subjected to hurt by the very person who should’ve protected her to his last breath. She was so slender and small even now. Back then? Fuck. His claws threatened to erupt.

Fine strands of her hair whispered up in the wind to cling to his face. And he realized she must be cold out here so late at night. Cold and tired and heartsick. That did it. “I’m not leaving you alone tonight,” he said, willing to fight her tooth and nail on this. “And since I haven’t checked the security on your place, we’re going to a clan apartment we keep in the city.”

Theo didn’t stiffen, but said, “My apartment should be secure. It’s maintained by experienced staff.”

So much courage and steel to her. She left him breathless.

“I helped with the security on the StoneWater apartment myself,” Yakov countered. “I know it’s a fort.” He continued to hold her, shattered that she let him; that told him far more than her words.

His complicated, smart, tough Theo’s heart was broken. Had broken a long time ago and never healed.

“We also have hot chocolate and supplies of cookies,” he cajoled. “And if you like, I’ll turn into a bear and let you pet me.”

Her head jerked up. He’d said the last as a joke, but from the wonder in her gaze, he was about to be a very happy bear. The thought of her fingers stroking through his fur? Hell, yes. “Deal?” he murmured.

“Will there be anyone else at the apartment?”

“No.” Yakov could answer that without checking because he was the one in charge of the bookings. “Most places we have, it’s for any clanmate to crash in if they need it, but this particular one we keep for guests of the clan who’re only in the city for a short time and can’t make it out to the den. It’s empty this week.”

“Then, deal.” Theo’s hand flexed against his back, curled in again.

He wanted to purr—not like a cat, like a bear. That was a real purr. “Come on, in the car before you freeze.”