CHAPTER 3 THE MARK BEHIND HER EAR
I stared at the tiny black mark behind my daughter's ear.
For several seconds, I couldn't hear anything.
Not the alarms.
Not the screaming nurses.
Not the pounding footsteps outside the maternity ward.
Only my own heartbeat.
Luka noticed my expression.
“What?”
I slowly turned Amelia's head toward him.
“Look.”
His face changed.
The confidence disappeared from his eyes.
He stepped closer.
Then stopped.
He didn't touch her.
He simply stared.
“That's impossible.”
My voice trembled.
“What is it?”
He didn't answer.
“Luka.”
His jaw tightened.
“Where did you see that?”
“Behind her ear.”
“I know where it is.”
“Then tell me what it means.”
He looked toward my father.
Gabriel Moretti was lying on the floor several yards away.
Blood covered his suit.
Two nurses were desperately trying to stop the bleeding.
Victoria was nowhere to be seen.
Daniel was still kneeling against the wall, staring at Amelia like he had seen a ghost.
Luka looked back at me.
“That mark wasn't there when she was born.”
I froze.
“What?”
“I was watching the delivery.”
My stomach dropped.
“You were watching my delivery?”
“Not inside the room.”
“Then how?”
He ignored the question.
“That mark wasn't there.”
I looked at my daughter again.
The number was perfectly formed.
Too precise to be an ordinary birthmark.
“Is it ink?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Luka's expression hardened.
“It's beneath the skin.”
My blood went cold.
“Someone tattooed my newborn?”
“No.”
He reached toward her ear, then stopped himself.
“It's not a tattoo.”
“Then what is it?”
“A designation.”
The word made my chest tighten.
“A designation for what?”
Luka looked at Daniel.
“Tell her.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Don't.”
“Tell her.”
Daniel looked at me.
His eyes were filled with guilt.
“M-17 wasn't a medical experiment.”
I swallowed.
“Then what was it?”
Daniel took a shaky breath.
“A program.”
“What kind of program?”
“A program designed to identify children whose parents possessed certain genetic traits.”
I stared at him.
“Genetic traits?”
“Your father wasn't a doctor.”
“I know.”
“He was a geneticist.”
I shook my head.
“My father was a professor.”
“That was the cover.”
Luka interrupted.
“He worked with a private research group.”
“Doing what?”
“Studying inherited neurological markers.”
I looked down at Amelia.
“And my daughter?”
Daniel whispered,
“She carries one.”
My heart began pounding.
“What marker?”
Neither man answered.
“Tell me!”
Daniel finally said,
“Memory.”
I frowned.
“Memory?”
“Not normal memory.”
He looked terrified.
“Enhanced memory retention. Pattern recognition. Certain neurological responses.”
I stared at him.
“That sounds insane.”
“I wish it were.”
Luka suddenly turned toward the hallway.
“What?”
He raised one finger.
Everyone became silent.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Coming toward us.
Luka drew a weapon from beneath his jacket.
Daniel stared at him.
“You brought a gun into a hospital?”
Luka didn't even look at him.
“I brought protection.”
The footsteps stopped.
Then the lights went out.
Again.
I pulled Amelia against my chest.
Luka grabbed my shoulder.
“Stay behind me.”
A voice came through the darkness.
“Mrs. Hale.”
I froze.
The voice was female.
Calm.
Almost gentle.
“Your daughter doesn't belong to you.”
I felt something inside me snap.
“She is my daughter.”
The woman laughed softly.
“No.”
A small red laser appeared on the wall.
Then another.
Then another.
Three laser dots moved across the corridor.
Luka cursed.
“Snipers.”
Daniel grabbed my hand.
“We have to move.”
I pulled away.
“I'm not leaving my daughter.”
“I know.”
“Then stop telling me to run!”
The emergency lights flickered back on.
A woman stood at the end of the corridor.
Victoria.
She was holding a small silver device.
And beside her were two men in surgical masks.
She smiled at me.
“You should have listened to your husband.”
I stared at her.
“You lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“You pretended to be his mistress.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Victoria's smile disappeared.
“Because your husband was getting too close.”
“To what?”
“To the truth.”
Luka stepped forward.
“Victoria.”
She looked at him.
“You should have stayed dead.”
Luka's expression changed.
I looked at him.
“What does she mean?”
Victoria laughed.
“You never told her?”
Luka remained silent.
“You never told Emma that Luka Moretti died six years ago?”
My blood ran cold.
I looked at Luka.
“What?”
Victoria raised the silver device.
“Six years ago, Luka Moretti was declared dead in an explosion in Naples.”
I stared at him.
Luka didn't deny it.
“Who are you?”
He looked at me.
His eyes were different now.
Not cold.
Sad.
“I told you my name.”
“You lied.”
“No.”
“Then how are you alive?”
He hesitated.
“Because the man who died wasn't me.”
Victoria laughed.
“Still lying.”
She pressed the device.
Every television screen in the hospital corridor turned on.
A video appeared.
My father.
Younger.
Standing inside a laboratory.
Behind him were dozens of incubators.
My breath caught.
Then I saw something that made my knees weaken.
A woman was standing beside him.
My mother.
She was holding a newborn baby.
Me.
The video continued.
My father's voice filled the corridor.
“Subject M-17 has been successfully transferred.”
I covered my mouth.
“No…”
Luka stared at the screen.
Victoria whispered,
“Now you understand.”
The video changed.
Another newborn appeared.
Then another.
Then another.
Each baby had the same small number behind its ear.
I looked down at Amelia.
Her tiny hand moved against my chest.
“Why her?”
Victoria looked at me.
“Because she's the last one.”
“The last what?”
“The last surviving child from the M-17 bloodline.”
Daniel suddenly shouted,
“Victoria, stop!”
She looked at him.
“You're too late.”
Then the hospital doors slammed shut.
Metal shutters dropped over every exit.
Luka immediately realized what was happening.
“They're sealing the building.”
Victoria smiled.
“Correct.”
Daniel stood.
“Why?”
Victoria looked at Amelia.
“Because the transfer begins tonight.”
My blood ran cold.
“No one is taking my daughter.”
Victoria raised the silver device.
“You don't understand, Emma.”
“What?”
“Your daughter isn't the target.”
She paused.
“She's the key.”
The lights went completely black.
Then every door in the maternity ward locked simultaneously.
A mechanical voice echoed through the hospital.
“M-17 CONFIRMED.”
“CONTAINMENT PROTOCOL INITIATED.”
Amelia suddenly began crying.
The mark behind her ear started glowing faintly beneath her skin.
Luka stared at it.
His face went pale.
“Emma…”
“What?”
He stepped closer.
“That isn't a number.”
I looked at him.
“Then what is it?”
He swallowed.
“It's a countdown.”
My blood froze.
“How long?”
He looked at the mark.
Then at the digital clock above the nurses' station.
11:43 PM.
A second later, the number behind Amelia's ear changed.
17 became 16.
Luka whispered,
“Sixteen minutes.”
I stared at my daughter.
“What happens when it reaches zero?”
Before Luka could answer, a deep mechanical sound came from beneath the hospital floor.
Something enormous had just powered on.
The walls began to vibrate.
And from somewhere below us, a voice spoke through the hospital speakers.
A man's voice.
Old.
Calm.
Familiar.
My father's voice.
“Emma.”
I stopped breathing.
“Bring my granddaughter to the basement.”
Luka looked at me.
The voice continued.
“Or the hospital will bury all of you with her.”
Then the countdown changed again.
15.
Luka grabbed my hand.
“We're going underground.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
He looked toward the floor.
“Because your father didn't build M-17 to create children.”
His eyes met mine.
“He built it to create something that could survive them.”
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And somewhere beneath our feet…
something began pounding against the locked basement door.
