Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 128413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“I will look them over on my own first,” Auden said in that cold voice that felt like a skin that had settled over her own. “You can explain the more rigorous sections to me.”
“Yes, yes.” The doctor’s voice was absent as he stared at something on his screen.
“A problem?”
“No, well…” He spun the screen so she could see it. “This”—he pointed to a set of neural patterns—“is your brain as of the last scan.” He touched the screen to pull up another file so the two were side by side. “This is from today.”
Auden stared from one to the other. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me, Doctor.”
“It’s showing a mix of two patterns.” The doctor spun the screen back toward him. “The secondary one is faded but interwoven into the primary. Fascinating.”
Your scent changed. It wasn’t perfume or body lotion or anything surface level. It was your base scent, the scent that is you no matter what else might layer itself on top. You had two.
Auden’s heart galloped at the memory of Remi’s disturbing words, but the doctor was too focused on her brain scans to notice. “I wish to get up.”
“Oh, of course, sir!” He removed the helmet, leaving her free to rise from the chair.
Which she did at once. “What are the ramifications of the scan?” she asked, even as her skin stretched so tight across her body that she felt as if she’d explode.
“I can’t say at this stage.” He looked up at her from his bent-over position in front of the screen. “Are you experiencing any confusion, memory loss, or personality changes of which you’re aware?”
Auden knew she should tell him the truth, but this doctor was the same man who’d helped her parents monitor her after the botched experiment that had left her with a broken brain. “No,” she said with cold clarity. “I’m stable. More stable than I’ve ever been.”
“I see that, sir,” he said, but looked back at his screen. “It might be an artefact.”
“An artefact?”
“A leftover piece of…code, if you will,” he said at last. “It should fade as your own code settles into the system. But…” He went to another screen, brought up what looked like readings for another person altogether. “Hmm, I’m showing dual neural activity here, too. So you may be in a transitional phase.”
Auden’s face pulsed, her spine in knots. She might not know what was going on, but she understood instinctively that it couldn’t be anything good for her. “I see. Send me those records, too, for completeness.”
The doctor tapped the screen. “Sent to a secure device I have here. I’ll authorize you as the only user. I’m not sure what monitoring software is on your current devices or if Hayward has access.”
So many questions crowded Auden’s brain, panic beating at her underneath the strange ice of her skin, but she knew one thing: she had to keep Dr. Verhoeven onside now that he seemed to believe she was back to full capacity. “I won’t forget your loyalty or forward thinking.”
The doctor straightened, a slight flush under his skin. “I have always been loyal to the family, and you are the family, sir.”
The sick feeling persisted in Auden’s gut even as her brain fired again. “Are there any implants yet in my body?” she asked. “I do not wish to be tracked.” The existence of those tiny devices had penetrated her mind at some point during the years she’d been in limbo.
“We removed everything after the pregnancy was confirmed,” the doctor said, and once again, it was a procedure of which Auden had no memory and for which she’d given no consent. “We had no idea how the transmitters might interact with the development of the fetus, so took the safer option.”
At least now they couldn’t track her like an animal. “Excellent.” She wanted to push for more information, but the risk of rousing his suspicions was too high.
There was also no chance he’d leave her alone in here to properly read the devices he’d touched. Even if there had been, she wouldn’t have taken the opportunity—not when she had no idea of what she might face.
If it had been just her, she’d have risked it. But not with her baby. A bad read could lead to a catastrophic psychic reaction. All else aside, the last thing she needed was to be vulnerable in front of this man who’d treated her as a lab subject without agency or will.
She needed someone she could trust by her side.
A flash of green-gold eyes in the privacy of her mind, the feel of a wide chest and strong arms holding her safe, the memory of a rumbling voice asking if she was all right.
Trust him, whispered the part of her that was coming to the bleak realization that she could not do this alone, not if her brain was starting to fracture again. One last risk, Auden. For your child. So she’ll grow up free.