Chapter Sixty-Four

Rory could only stare at the unknown woman before him, oddly fascinated by the sudden and profound change. It was extraordinary to witness, and it never ceased to amaze him.

In one explosive move, she pushed away from the wall with a painful, perfectly executed blow to his chest.

He staggered from the unexpected and forceful punch but managed to maintain his balance. Dragging in a labored breath, he attempted to grab her but missed her by an inch.

With a dodge and a lunge, she went for the Smith & Wesson on the nightstand.

Shit.

“Nina!” he wheezed, finally seeing the true danger of what he had triggered.

Too late.

She scooped up the weapon and in one smooth movement aimed it at him.

His gut knotted at the soulless impassiveness in her eyes. This had to be another alter altogether. He instinctively felt this personality was extremely dangerous in its emptiness, and would stop at nothing to achieve its goal.

Staying very still, he was determined not to startle her into doing something stupid.

“Who are you?” he asked.

She didn’t acknowledge his question in any way, just stood there regarding him in utter silence. Then she thumbed the gun’s safety off.

Fuck!

The biggest fear he now faced was that there was nothing human inside her he could connect with. This alter wouldn’t allow it.

Yes, it had been necessary to push her, but damage control was needed—fast—before things really got out of hand. He decided to appeal to the one personality he hoped could overcome this cold, dangerous creature.

“Lena! Come back. You don’t want this to happen,” he said, watching and hoping she’d return before this stranger did something drastic.

Like shoot him.

“I’m your friend, Lena, I’m on your side. You know that. Stop her!”

His words had no apparent effect. Whoever this was, there was not a hint of humanity in her. No pleasure. No fear. Nothing. Just the terrifying emptiness that lacked any form of conscience.

Almost like a machine following the structured outline of its programming.

This identity didn’t fit at all with Nina’s original personality the way Lena and the others did. They were all pieces of their host, remnants of a variety of roles she had played in order to do her job. But still essentially Nina.

Intuition, more than anything, made him suspect that the alter he was dealing with now was the product of consistent conditioning, drugs, and torture. The cruel regimen at Prima Vista had created a weapon, a drone without a soul. One that would kill without effort or morality.

Much like the child-soldiers Rising Sun had created all those years ago.

What were the odds?

The thought was fleeting as it struck him that it would explain everything Nina Hernandez had endured for the past year—just before he was forced back to his present problem.

“You’ve got to fight this, Lena,” he urged, raising his hands in full view and taking a measured step toward her.

“Don’t move.”

Though every instinct screamed insanity, he didn’t have a choice. If he didn’t talk her out of this, he was a dead man.

He knew it.

Felt it.

“You’re strong, Lena. You can stop this! You don’t want to see me get shot.”

He hoped to God he was right. At this point there was no other option but to use his own life as leverage. Deep down, he had to believe that she cared enough about him not to want him dead.

She blinked mechanically as she watched his steady approach.

“I’m not a threat to you, Lena. I just need you to talk to me. Explain what’s happening to you. If I know what’s going on, I can help.” He kept up a steady stream of words, slowly closing the gap between them. “Look at me,” he ordered. “You know me, Lena. You know I won’t do anything to hurt you. I need you to take control. Now!”

“I said, stop moving,” she warned. Her voice was as dispassionate as her movements. In slow motion, she cocked her head, her cold eyes never leaving him.

Still, she hadn’t shot him yet. That had to count for something.

But time was running out.

He ignored her order and took another step. “Or what? You’ll shoot me? You’ll have to be quick, Lena. I’m going to keep coming. Either tell me you’re here, or you’re going to have to kill me.”

Another blink. She seemed briefly puzzled by his insistence.

“Lena?” He stared into the black hole of the gun barrel only a couple of inches from his nose.

Her finger curled around the trigger.

“Lena! Any time now!” he said firmly, his voice breaking a little. His body tensed involuntarily, preparing for impact.

For death.

Something flickered in her gaze.

A tiny flame of hope sparked to life when she finally looked at him, and connected for real. Her eyes lost their impassiveness, and her gaze dropped from his face to the gun. They snapped back up as he carefully covered her trembling hand with his.

“It’s okay, Lena,” he soothed, and gently pushed the gun down and away. “It’s all right now. You can let go.”

Her arm trembled, strength seeping from it. Quickly, he took the weapon from her powerless grip and tossed it aside.

Ghostly pale, she inhaled shakily. A look of acute horror sprang to her face as the full realization of what had almost happened hit home.

He studied her. “What just happened?”

His question made her swallow convulsively. “The mist,” she murmured so softly he could barely hear. “I fell, and then I was lost. So lost.” Her breathing turned ragged. She shook her head, her face contorting in such a painful expression he could do nothing but try to comfort her.

“It’s okay. That was a close call, honey,” he said gently. “But you’re okay now.”

Lower lip trembling she stood vulnerable before him, and he roughly pulled her into a tight embrace. She bumped her head from side to side in silent denial.

“You did good.” He was amazed that he could sound so calm when the adrenaline still gushed wildly through his body. “Real good. You won, Lena.”

Her body shook in his arms. “Don’t ever do that again,” she told him, the stark vulnerability in those trembling words doing more to calm his jangled nerves than anything else possibly could have.

Holding her closer still, he stroked her back with shaking hands. “Trust me,” he assured her, “I won’t.”