Renegade (19 page)

I turned back to check on Jensen. His body had stilled and he’d dropped his hand. “What happened?” he whispered, unashamed tears streaming down his face.

And so I told him the whole story. The ranch in Clearwater, the V.O. attack, our escape to Canada—and our subsequent capture. Holland’s compound, the tests, Lucas helping us escape. And finally, haltingly, Mom getting shot—bleeding out before I could do a damn thing to help her.

After I finished, a strange sense of relief poured through me. Like by finally spewing all the details to someone, I’d relieved a toxic pressure I hadn’t known was building. But when I looked up at Jensen, that pleasant sensation abruptly fled. Because all signs of grief had been stripped from his face and his mouth had taken on a grim twist.

I prepared myself for a verbal attack, but all he said was, “I need to get some antibiotics for Hunter from the house.” And then he spun and covered the short path to the garage door with long strides.

Alarmed, I stared after him for a moment, debating whether or not I should follow. Just in case.

Then I heard a faint voice behind me.

“Mila?”

I whirled—in time to watch Hunter open his eyes.

“H
unter? Are you feeling okay?” I rushed to his side and clasped his hand in mine. My other hand went to his cheek. Pale, but still warm, and grazed with just the slightest hint of stubble.

“Mmmm,” he mumbled, but at least now his blue eyes were open. Well, more at half-mast, and even that appeared to be a struggle. He only managed to hold them open for a few seconds at a time, before they’d dip shut again.

“Shhh, it’s okay. Just go back to sleep,” I soothed, stroking my fingers down his cheek.

His eyes stayed shut this time, and his breathing once again deepened, which made it easier for me to relax. So I jumped when his hand shot out and grabbed my arm.

“Got to tell you something . . .”

I waited, buzzing with anticipation, but it was like the words zapped all of his strength. His grip weakened, his fingers slid. For a second, I was certain his arm would crash back to the table, and I made a move to grab it. But his hand tightened and caught hold of my sleeve. He opened his eyes, really opened them this time, so I was bombarded with a full dose of that faded blue.

For someone so sleepy just a moment ago, his gaze was oddly intent.

“When I wake up, less run away together, kay?” he slurred. “Jus you an me.”

My phantom pulse leaped. Underneath it all, Hunter couldn’t deny his feelings.

But then I realized that his mind was foggy, from the anesthetic. I just stood there, speechless, trying to stamp out the hope that was steadily rising with each passing second. There was no way he meant it, I warned myself. He couldn’t. Not after everything that had happened.

Then I felt an insistent pressure on my arm. “Hey, I asked a quession,” he said. Frown lines appeared on his forehead, like my failure to snap out an affirmative answer was causing him massive amounts of stress.

“Maybe we should talk about this later—”

He gave a violent shake of his head and immediately groaned.

I winced. “Sorry! I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean—”

He held up his hand and I let the sentence die. I waited until he recovered. Then, smiling ever so faintly, he placed his hand on my face and gently cupped my cheek. “The two of us, together. Okay?”

And then his lips touched mine, and all I could think of was him.

Warmth. Joy. A feeling of pure bliss, like every single part of my body was alive and aware. Like I was suddenly comprised of millions more nerve cells than before. His kiss took me beyond the garage, and for those few tiny moments, we were connected in a way that I’d never experienced before. His heartbeat, his scent, his body heat—they all wrapped around me, enveloping me in a sense of belonging.

So, this was what it felt like to truly be alive.

I pulled away, reluctantly, realizing that he was still groggy from the drugs. All the fight had drained out of me, leaving only contentment behind.

“Okay,” I agreed. And somehow, just the act of agreeing freed the chains that had caged the hope inside me. Reminding myself that hallucinations were one of the side effects of the drugs couldn’t catch the hope either.

A faint smile curved his amazing lips, even as the rest of his body went slack. His fingers slipped from my arm, and I gently captured his hand and laid it across his chest. But even as the drug dragged him under, the faint smile lingered, and somewhere, deep inside, my all-too-human android heart responded.

He was in and out for the next ten minutes and by the time he’d freed himself from the drug’s influence, Jensen still hadn’t returned. I decided he must’ve gotten sidetracked, because how hard was it to find antibiotics in a house as barren and neat as his?

Unease flickered through me.

I stood. “I’ll be right back.”

I’d only taken four steps toward the door that led into the house when the garage plunged into darkness.

“What’s going on?” Hunter asked, sounding curious rather than concerned. Not me. I’d started spinning in a slow circle.

For once, the lack of a discernible threat did little to soothe my growing fear. A loud metallic click
yanked my attention to the door.

Neither did that.

“Jensen!” I yelled. Where was he? I hadn’t picked up on any threats while waiting for him to return, but what if I’d been so involved with Hunter that I’d missed something? When my hand found the doorknob, the damn thing wouldn’t budge.

The fear that had been a slow trickle until now turned full blast. That click had been someone locking the door. Hunter and I were trapped in here.

I cursed under my breath, but apparently not low enough.

“You okay?” Hunter asked.

“Fine. The door’s just sticking,” I lied. No need to alarm him yet. My hand tightened on the knob, and I pushed, harder and harder, with every bit of strength I had. With growing shock, I realized the knob wasn’t going to give. It didn’t budge, not even a little.

Keeping as quiet as possible, I planted my hands shoulder-width apart on the door and pushed. But the second my skin touched the surface, I knew. This door wasn’t made from wood, and it wasn’t some flimsy sheet metal. This was an industrial-strength monster, the kind they probably used in bank vaults.

I finally had to concede defeat. For a second I let my forehead fall forward and rest against the chilly, slick surface of my nemesis. This was not your typical homeowner’s garage. Which I guess made sense, since Jensen wasn’t your typical homeowner.

I clenched my teeth. Then again, I wasn’t your typical houseguest, and there was no way I was letting a simple door defeat me—metal or not. I flexed my hands. I’d rip that thing right off the hinges if I had to. But before I could try again, a flash of red light flickered, once, twice. Then, red lines pulsed into existence between me and the door, accompanied by an increase in the soft hum. The one I’d picked up on earlier. I craned my head back, and what I saw wasn’t comforting. Not at all. The lines extended from the ceiling all the way down to the floor.

As I watched, the light emitting from them brightened and faded, in a strange, coordinated rhythm. Almost like they had a heartbeat all their own. They
pulsed.
The hum also ebbed and waned, like a solitary bee flitting from flower to flower. The hum of electricity.

Laser beams.

What the . . . ?

I took a step back to get a better feel for whatever was going on, and got another gut punch of dread. The beams didn’t cover just the door, or the surrounding wall. I spun slowly. They covered the entire perimeter of the garage. Just a centimeter or so from the walls.

Now I knew the reason for the odd spacing issues. All the better to imprison Hunter and me in a glowing red cage.

“Mila? What are those for?”

I hesitated, partly because I wasn’t one hundred percent sure what was going on yet. But mostly because the theory I did have was beyond disturbing. Amid the fear circulating an icy-cold river through my system, I approached the lasers. I stopped less than six inches from the beams, taking a moment to watch the barest flicker of their light. I lifted my hand, slowly, slowly.

I froze, my hand hovering midair. An electric fence. Jensen had the entire garage wired with some kind of high-tech electric fence.

I turned a slow pirouette, but just as I suspected, there was no escape.

“Mila?” Hunter again, more anxious now.

“It’s okay. Just don’t move.” I turned back to the door. Fear pricked along my skin. My android sensors had never been wrong before, but it didn’t matter. I had to try.

I extended my index finger, reaching toward a cloud of shimmering red.

My flesh made contact . . . and then the room exploded into a haze of static.

The shock knocked my legs right out from under me and propelled me back, one, three, five feet. I made a frantic grab for the table on the way down, but it couldn’t hold me. As my back slammed the hard floor, the table tipped, pelting me with a barrage of vials, bandages, and ointments. My ears rang, and the world moved around me in staticky, jerky waves.

Disjointed commands burst through my head:
Override lock. Upload. Project.

And then my hands collapsed to my sides, and my thoughts were no longer my own—my brain, completely derailed. Robotic voice. Taking. Control.

A red light.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

From somewhere in the distance, I heard Hunter’s voice, heard a clatter as something hit the ground. “Mila? Mila?”

Panic. Mine, or his?

Blink. Blink. Blink.

I tried to free my thoughts from the systems check, but every . . .

. . . time I pried my brain free, the . . .

My chest expanded and deflated, rapidly. A machine, breathing for me.

Part of me wanted to fight; but acceptance won out. The android part knew what it was doing, and I had to let it help. I had Hunter’s life at stake.

Finally, a slowing in the streams of red commands, the contraction of my lungs.

And just like that, I slipped back into my own mind.

What the hell had that been about? It wasn’t the first time I’d frozen up, but it was definitely the worst. All of that malfunctioning, all of the weird memory fragments . . . something was wrong inside me. I could feel it.

A warm hand grasped my shoulders. I opened my eyes to see Hunter kneeling over me, pale and tight-lipped, his bad arm dangling awkwardly. But his eyes were wild, his movements choppy and frantic. “Mila? Mila!”

“Don’t worry, I’m okay,” I managed, but the words came out all wrong. No, not the words—my voice.

My hand flew to my mouth, as if I could take back the deep, impersonal, digitized sound emitting from my throat. The same sound that echoed through the garage.

Not my voice at all. A robot’s voice.

Hunter’s hand went slack. His lips moved, but the only thing I heard was a sharp hiss of air between his teeth. Finally, he said, “I don’t understand . . .”

And then he did the thing I’d always feared, from the moment I’d learned what I truly was. The entire reason I’d lied from the start.

In angry disbelief, Hunter backed away from me, one, two, three steps. Like I was something too terrible to touch.

“Hunter,” I started, only to stop when he flinched at the wrongness of my voice.

I closed my eyes, balled my fists. What the hell was happening? Had the electricity fried something inside me? There had to be a way to reset, surely. I couldn’t live with this masculine, robotic noise spewing forth every time I opened my mouth.

The words blinked, at the ready.

My chest heaved in relief.

A slight vibration in my throat; a tightening sensation just under my chin.

Too late, though. I knew that as soon as I registered Hunter’s horrified expression.

“What are you?” he whispered.

Inch by inch, I raised my eyes, until they connected with his. When I’d pictured this moment in the past, I’d always finessed my way to the ultimate reveal, circling the reality in hopes of slowly breaking Hunter in. That way, I’d figured, maybe he’d be less likely to be repulsed.

But not now. I would apologize for lying, but I couldn’t bring myself to apologize for what I was.

Even if that meant Hunter never looked at me with acceptance and longing again. If I couldn’t be true to myself, then I was worthless to anyone else, anyway. I looked him right in the eye, and with a steady voice, finally stopped lying.

“I’m an android.”

If my heart hadn’t been knotting itself into a painful ball, the expression on his face would have been comical.

“An android?” he repeated, with a slight lilt. Like maybe he’d misunderstood.

I nodded.

“You’re joking. Right?” In his voice I heard hope, doubt, and fear. I watched as his mind whirled, undoubtedly playing back the parts of our journey that, up to this point, hadn’t really made much sense.

The way I’d overpowered Grady and Ashleigh. The ease we’d had breaking into this very house. My driving without headlights. And, I saw the second he realized—my arm.

With his attention firmly focused on my arm, he backed up another step. “It’s not possible.” But I heard the lack of conviction in his voice. I’m sure he wanted his words to be true. But wanting didn’t affect reality. I could tell him that.

I tilted my head to the side, pulling back my earlobe hard. We might as well get this over with. “Look,” I said, exposing the hidden USB port.

He stepped closer, gingerly, leaning forward to take a peek. His gasp twisted the pain deeper.

“How . . . when . . . ?” One finger reached out as if to touch, then he recoiled before contact was made.

Another twist. But I managed a brave smile. “It’s a long story. But I can give you the short version. Here, come sit down.”

He immediately retracted another step. “I’m fine right here.”

“Hunter, please,” I said, forcing the hurt from my voice and trying to sound soothing. “You need to sit—”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child! And don’t you get it? I don’t want to be near you. Not now!”

His words slashed like razors, but I pushed that aside because in his weakened state, his vehemence made him stumble. I darted forward as he regained his balance. He held up his hand.

“Don’t. Don’t touch me.” A beat and then, “Please.”

Soft and pleading, and coated with a world of hurt. My heart bled for Hunter and for me. And for this unbridgeable chasm between us.