Chapter 10 - When the lights returned, Maya was gone.So was Captain Mercer.
Evan screamed.
“MY SISTER!”
I grabbed Jax.
“Find her.”
The dog immediately lowered his head.
He sniffed Maya's abandoned sleeve.
Then he moved.
Fast.
We followed.
A hidden corridor had opened behind the server racks.
The walls were lined with photographs.
Dozens.
Children.
Handlers.
Doctors.
And me.
At the end of the corridor was a single door.
My name was written on it.
JONATHAN REED
I opened it.
Inside stood my father.
Exactly as he'd appeared on the screen.
Older.
Exhausted.
Alive.
For several seconds neither of us spoke.
Then he said:
“You should never have come.”
I stared.
“You're alive.”
“I know.”
“You let me believe you were dead.”
“It was necessary.”
“For nine years?”
“Yes.”
I looked at Jax.
My father saw him.
He stepped backward.
“Get him away from me.”
The dog's ears flattened.
I remembered the warning.
Don't trust the dog.
But something about my father's fear felt wrong.
“What happened in 2017?”
He looked at me.
“I discovered the network.”
“And?”
“I tried to destroy it.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because someone inside the department betrayed us.”
“Who?”
He looked toward the door.
“Your partner.”
“I never had a partner.”
“You did.”
My father pointed at Jax.
“His previous handler.”
Voss.
I frowned.
“Voss was his handler.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Voss discovered what I knew.”
“And?”
“He made a deal.”
“With whom?”
My father shook his head.
“Someone higher.”
A gunshot echoed down the corridor.
My father flinched.
Jax pulled toward the sound.
“Stay,” I told him.
The dog did not move.
My father looked at him.
“You don't understand what he carries.”
“What does Jax carry?”
My father hesitated.
“The proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“Everything.”
I stared at the dog.
Nine years.
The operations.
The missing children.
The strange behavior.
The files.
The warning.
My father continued.
“When you were shot, you were unconscious for six minutes.”
“What happened?”
“They thought you were dead.”
“Who?”
“Everyone.”
He walked toward Jax.
The dog growled.
My father stopped.
“That's why.”
“Why what?”
“Your memories were altered.”
“What?”
“A drug.”
My head spun.
“They erased parts of your memory.”
“Who?”
“The doctors.”
“Which doctors?”
My father looked at me.
“Dr. Voss.”
I stepped closer.
“Then why don't I remember this place?”
“Because you weren't supposed to.”
A scream came from the corridor.
Maya.
I turned.
My father grabbed my arm.
“Jonathan, listen to me.”
I pulled free.
“My daughter is in there.”
“She's not your daughter.”
I froze.
“What?”
He pointed at the hallway.
“Maya Collins died six years ago.”
A child's voice came from outside.
“Dad?”
My father's face went white.
He whispered:
“That's impossible.”
Then Jax stepped toward the door.
May you like
His hackles rose.
And for the first time in nine years, he barked at my father.
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