Chapter Twenty-Seven

Elena

If tension was flammable, this room would light up with a brilliant blaze, incinerating us all. I’m drowning, and I don’t know which way is up and which is down.

Aiden’s not dead.

“You have to let Aiden live,” Dr. Niels says to my dad, breaking the silence. His hands shake as he motions with them. “Now that you’ve been told the truth, you can’t still want him to die.”

My heartbeat pounds out the seconds as they pass. My dad stands statue still, staring at Dr. Niels. But his pleas don’t change the expression on my dad’s face.

“You’re the reason this project failed,” he says through clenched teeth. “If you had just followed orders, we could have avoided this entire mess.” He takes a step forward. His shoe squeals against the hard floor. “And while I can understand what you did, why you did it…I can’t—”

“You can’t possibly say you wouldn’t have done the same if it was your child,” Dr. Niels says.

“Regardless,” his eyes briefly meet mine, “that’s not the case here, and it doesn’t alter the facts. My decision hasn’t changed.”

Dr. Niels shoves one shaking hand through his hair, pulling on the ends. “Then you’ve left me no choice.” His other hand reaches behind his back, under his lightweight jacket. When it reemerges, he holds a gun.

And points it at my dad.

“I’m leaving this building with Aiden,” he says. “Nothing and no one is going to stop me.”

My eyes stay locked on the gun, fear filling my entire body.

“Chris,” Melanie says, her voice slow and calm. “This won’t help anything.”

Dr. Niels doesn’t respond.

“She’s right,” Dad says. “If you plan to shoot me and then get out of this building with Aiden, you’re a mad man.”

He takes a step. Then another, the barrel of the gun only inches from my dad’s face. “I’m not letting him die. I’m not going to kill him, and I’m sure as hell not going to let you.” Dad takes a step back, but Dr. Niels counters it with another quick movement of his own. “I’m leaving with Aiden. You’re not going to stop me.”

My dad’s lips twist into a sardonic grin. “You’d murder me to save the life of your robot?”

“I’d do anything to save my son’s life.”

“Chris, please,” Melanie begs. “Please stop. You don’t want to do this.” Her hands are outstretched, but she makes no move to get closer. “You can’t.”

Dad raises his hands, feigning surrender, but instead of backing away, he moves into the gun. Now there’s a single inch of space between his forehead and the shining black metal.

“Dad!” My voice screeches. I’m surprised I even hear it with all the blood pounding in my head.

Dad ignores me. “You say you’re going to shoot me. So do it.”

No one speaks. No one moves. A scream builds in my chest. I stop breathing.

One second passes.

Then another.

And another.

Dad moves.

He ducks under the gun and barrels into Dr. Niels’s chest, knocking him to the floor. They land with an ear-splitting boom. The impact rattles the equipment surrounding us. Metal tinkles against metal like amplified wind chimes echoing off the walls.

I scream, moving, wanting to stop the fight.

My dad’s arm pulls back, but Dr. Niels rolls, narrowly avoiding his fist. Instead, it collides with the ground. But that doesn’t stop Dad. He moves just as quick, yanking Dr. Niels’ free hand behind his back, digging one knee into his spine. More twisting and grunting, then Dr. Niels isn’t pinned to the floor anymore.

It’s a whirlwind of movements I can’t keep up with. Seconds tick by, and I want to run to them, stop them—but I don’t. I can’t get my feet to do what my brain wants. Dad’s fist smashes into the doctor’s face, and they tumble again. I can’t believe this is my dad. Watching him in a physical fight is horrific. Something I never would’ve pictured. It’s an evil, animalistic act I’d never seen from him before. The gun clatters on the ground, and they scramble for possession of it.

On a last-minute decision, I make a grab for the gun. My fingers grasp the cool metal, but it’s quickly yanked away.

An ear-splitting shot resonates in the room, so loud I think a bomb has gone off. My eyes shut at the sound and all I hear is the ringing in my head. Sulfur and smoke tickle my nose, faint at first, then overwhelming.

A fraction of a second has passed since the gun went off. My eyes fly open. The room shifts, tilting into a dizzying blur. I blink. Take a step forward. Fire sears through my stomach and I gasp. Every beat of my heart increases the pain until I can’t breathe, can’t scream. I put my hand over my stomach, and when I look down, it’s slick and red—a bright, thick, crimson. Excruciating, white-hot pain blooms. Blood drips from my fingers. Splatters on the floor.

I hear my name. Again and again. Dad is there now, standing in front of me, shouting, screaming.

But I can’t focus on anything besides the blood oozing from my gunshot wound.