Chapter Four

Aiden

No one came to my room last night after the alarm went off, not even Dr. Niels. I did my best to ignore my lingering questions about the disturbance, but my mind refused to obey. Though I laid in bed for hours, I only managed small amounts of microsleep—which didn’t feel much like sleep at all.

When I tried the door to my room around three a.m., it finally opened for me. The hallways of AIR were empty as I expected. Nothing seemed out of place, and none of the armed men remained. At least not that I could see. When I went looking for Dr. Niels or Melanie, I found both their offices empty, so I spent most of the day pacing around my room. Despite my agitation, I fell into a restless sleep sometime after lunch.

I awake to the sound of people talking outside my bedroom door, but I can’t make out the words. After rolling out of bed, I disable the window tint, and bright light from outside gradually enters the room. It’s colder than normal—which isn’t possible. Not technically, anyhow, since the building is strictly regulated in every way.

Interested to see what’s going on out in the hall, I change into jeans and a dark-red T-shirt, then open my door. Dr. Niels’ salt-and-pepper hair is a welcomed sight. I take a step in his direction but pause when I notice he’s talking to someone a few yards away. The other man has his back to me, but with his dark hair, average height, and dominant stance, I can tell who it is.

Carter.

He must not have heard my door open and hasn’t realized I’m standing here. Dr. Niels’s eyes meet mine for a split second. His chin juts out, the lines on his forehead deepen, and his lips pull together with a short intake of air. One thing is certain: something’s wrong.

Dr. Niels gestures with his hand, and they start off down the hallway. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out they’re talking about me.

Once they’re halfway down the hall, I start trailing them. The overhead lights are harsh, giving the place a sterile, hospital-like vibe. Thankfully, it doesn’t smell like bleach, the way the medical wing always does. I’m careful not to let my shoes squeak against the tiled floor, and when the two men stop in front of a large window, I inch closer until I’m within earshot.

“You can’t do this,” Dr. Niels says, pulling on the sleeves of his dark-green button-down shirt. His voice is controlled but interlaced with desperation.

Carter crosses his arms. “It’s already done. There’s no other option. If I had known about this, I would’ve put a stop to it months ago.”

“Don’t you see how miraculous he is? He may not be exactly as you anticipated, but do you not see the possibilities? You can’t—”

“We are not miracle workers, Dr. Niels.” Carter adjusts his glasses, clearing his throat. “Everything must be precise. Orderly. I will accept nothing less than perfection. How many times do I need to reiterate the facts for you?” His words ooze exasperation.

“And how many times must I tell you that you simply don’t understand?” Dr. Niels’s voice is much softer than Carter’s, but it maintains the same tone, like an arrow tipped with fire. “I care little for your title or what you may threaten me with. This is not a game.”

“No. It’s certainly not.”

“Aiden is not a machine you can just command me to destroy. You can’t possibly—”

“Yes, I can,” Carter says. “That’s precisely what I’m doing.”

Chills race across my skin. Destroy… Carter wants him to destroy me? What the fuck does that mean?

Inside the office, chair legs scrape against the tiled floor with an ear-splitting screech. “Does he not think like you do? Does he not move, talk, and act like you? Does he not feel and understand things as someone such as you or I can?”

“What you’ve done is wrong,” Carter says firmly. “This is your failure, and any guilt you may feel over it is certainly not my doing.”

“You do realize what you’re asking, don’t you?” Niels’s voice is taut and gruff. “You’re asking me to end someone’s life based on your own biased fears.”

Not just someone. They’re talking about ending my life. Why would they—

Puzzle pieces slam together, forming one ugly picture in my head, and I press a hand against the cool metal wall. No.

“I fear nothing.” Each word is clear and concise—and deadly. “I’ve given you an order, and I expect you to follow it. You have until the end of today to do what I’m asking, or you will no longer have a job or a good reputation. The decision has been made. Project A.I.D.E.N. is to be terminated.”

Project Aiden—I’m not even a person to Carter. I’m just a project.

The balloon that’s permanently taken residence in my chest since yesterday explodes, panic spreading like wildfire, filling every crevice of my body. My heart thunders loudly in my head. I’d been concerned for Dr. Niels, for failing him, when all along it was me Carter wanted to destroy.

No. No, no, fucking no.

This is all wrong.

My life shouldn’t be in danger because I hypothetically refuse to kill someone in some hypothetical question.

Spinning, my back hits the wall hard, and I shut my eyes, trying to maintain a normal breathing pattern. I can’t let them do this. Kill me. If I want to live—and I want nothing more—I need to do something.

I need to escape.

Shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans, I muster as much calm as I can manage and get far away from Dr. Niels and Carter.

I need a plan, and I need it fast.

All the exits are locked twenty-four-seven, and I can only access the door to my own room. Someone else will have to open the doors leading outside. Who will do that for me? And hell, what will happen if I make it outside? Where will I go? What will I do?

First things first.

I haul ass toward the nearest exit: Zone B. I’d run if it wouldn’t call attention to myself. A man in a white lab coat, staring at his ComPad, is headed to the double doors, and I slow down, looking back and forth and behind me. No one else is in sight.

I’ve never seen this guy before, and thanks to his distraction, he doesn’t notice me fall into step behind him. He places his palm against the scanner, barely glancing up. Following him through the door is easy—too easy. Once we’re on the other side, I quickly assess the empty corridor. There are two main exits within AIR, and one of them is up ahead, to my right. I’m only one more fingerprint and retinal scan away from the outside.

But the man I’m trailing doesn’t head for those doors. He walks—no longer staring at his screen but still oblivious to my intentions—toward a different hallway. I squeeze my eyes shut and fight the urge to scream. The walls are closing in on me and, and God, someone must have seen me by now on one of the hundred cameras. No time for second guessing.

“Excuse me,” I say to the man’s back.

He turns, and his wide, puffy face is twisted into a curious expression. “Yes?”

“I need you to open that door for me.” As if he’ll do it just because I asked nicely.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Open. That. Door.”

“I can’t. It’s against protocol. I’m sure you know—”

“What I know”—I easily slam his body against the wall behind him, my hands gripping his plump shoulders—“is that you are going to open that door for me. Now.” The whole room shakes from the impact, but if being nice won’t work, what other choice do I have?

The man’s eyes grow wide. His bottom lip quivers. “But I—it’s not—I don’t—”

“Do it.” The last thing I want is to actually hurt him, but making him think I will just might work in my favor. “Open the fucking door, and I’ll let you walk away.”

“Okay. Okay!” He pleads with me as I press him against the wall like he weighs no more than fifty pounds. “Please.” He holds his hands out to the sides, admitting defeat.

I release him and step back. He’s flustered, his cheeks a bright red, and…he’s terrified of me. I resist scrubbing a hand down my face as a wave of nausea consumes me. This is wrong. But what they want to do to me is more wrong. I don’t have a choice.

I become his shadow, following him as he shifts toward the door and lifts one hand for the scanner to process. His breathing is heavy and unusually loud. I do my best to ignore it, waiting for the light to turn orange. A glance over my shoulder shows no signs of Carter. If the mystery man on the other end of those cameras hasn’t pegged me as out of place yet, he certainly will now.

The retinal scan takes only seconds, but now all of those seconds matter. The door beeps, finally unlocked, and a surge of warmth shoots through me at the relief. As soon as the thick metal plate slides open, I bolt through.

Mild air and bright-white sunlight hit me like a boulder to the head. It isn’t often that I get to be outside while the sun is shining, and I’m momentarily blinded, blinking furiously. Once I regain my perfect vision, I spot two men standing at the guard post. The sun glints off their metal guns—why do they have guns? This will be the greatest challenge. If I get past these two, I’ll be out of the facility.

I’ll be safe.

I’ll be free.

They haven’t seen me yet, so I’ve got the advantage. I’d forced the man inside to open the door and it hadn’t taken much. These guys—the ones with heavy machinery—will take more than an empty threat.

I get five feet from them, and it’s harder to breathe. If I don’t act swiftly, I’ll have to pass by more than just two men. Without further thought, I close the distance between me and them. My arm swings out at one of the unsuspecting strangers, and he whips his head, but the rest of his reflexes aren’t quick enough. I pull the weapon from his side, and in an instant, I have one hand around his neck, the other holding the gun at his head.

The second man spins, uttering a curse, pulling his gun up, aiming at me. “Drop the weapon.”

“All I want is through the gate,” I say, gripping both the man and the gun tighter. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Drop it. Drop it now.”

I step back, pulling the guy I’m holding with me. “I just want to leave. I don’t want to shoot you. Or him.”

The man still pointing the gun at my face doesn’t look like he’s about to give up. Of course not. Why would he believe me?

“What do you mean you want to leave?” he asks, inching closer to me. “Who the hell are you?”

I blink but don’t loosen my grip on the steel beneath my fingertips. My gaze stays locked on his face as recognition develops, flickering across his features. There’s only one person who would have any problem leaving AIR, only one who needs to resort to holding a man at gunpoint to get out of here.

“Shit, you’re Aiden.” His eyes widen, and I see the fear in them, identical to Lab Coat Guy. Now that he recognizes me, he’s horrified. Clearly, they know something about me that I don’t, but I’m not sticking around to ask questions. Staying alive is more important than getting the answers right now.

His left hand reaches to touch the intercom piece attached to his ear. If he signals to everyone that I’m trying to escape, my chance at freedom will vanish.

I can’t let that happen.

I fling my body forward, propelling the man I’m holding. Their bodies collide and the sound of clashing bones crackles around us. In a blink, they slam into the ground with a thud, almost as if the ground was a magnet pulling them down to it. I’m only this strong because they made me this strong, and now they want to kill me because I didn’t pass some critical test they didn’t even prepare me for.

It makes me sick.

I take off running as fast as possible. My hand grips the cool metal of the gun as tightly as I’ve ever gripped anything in my life. My shoes smack against the solid cement, echoing my raging pulse. I reach the wrought-iron fence that stands ten feet tall, harrowing and ominous. It’s either up and over or nothing at all.

Clinging to the sun-warmed metal, I use all my strength to make the climb in a matter of seconds, putting one hand over the other, shoving my feet into the tiny rungs. At the top, I throw my body to the other side and land on the concrete with nothing more than a minor thump.

I’ve run around a track plenty of times, but never outside, never without a clear finish line in sight. I don’t have a clue where I’m going or where I can go, and one thought keeps repeating in my head. Over and over and over.

If you don’t run, they will kill you.

The concrete gives way to grass, and I sprint down the road. I can’t get the white, three-story death trap out of my sight soon enough. No alarms are sounding—not yet. As I run, I toss the gun into the tall grass. I know little of the outside world, but I’m certain waving a gun around will cause more problems than it will solve.

Fresh air whips around me, and I don’t even have time to enjoy the sensations of life outside the gates. For minutes, I run faster than I ever have before. I dare a peek over my shoulder, keeping my momentum up. When I see no guards making chase, relief washes over me like a warm blanket. I turn my head forward again, and the blanket is abruptly ripped away, replaced with a metaphorical bucket of ice-cold water to the face.

The screeching of tires erupts as a red blur comes into focus. I’m frozen, horrified, and I imagine I look just like that saying I’ve heard Dr. Burns use before—a deer in the headlights. I do nothing more than stand there and watch as a car barrels right toward me.