Chapter Twenty-One

Fury hung his head. “She hates me.”

“You can’t think that way. Wait and see.” Steel tried to be encouraging, but the fact he didn’t outright contradict him spoke volumes.

He’d spent the night at his friend’s cabin. “You didn’t see her face.” He squeezed his eyes shut in a vain attempt to block out her expression of terror.

“I know what you’re going through. I’ve been there, my friend. Honoria freaked, too.”

“But then you got gored by a horniger, and she realized how much she cared for you. I wasn’t that lucky.”

“Yeah, that was pretty lucky—me almost dying,” Steel said drily.

“What if Honoria can’t convince her to come talk to me?”

“Then we’ll try something else.”

“What?”

“I don’t know yet. ”

Fury jumped to his feet and paced the small parlor. Steel and Honoria’s cabin was a carbon copy of their own, except they’d replaced the diminutive sofa with a full-sized model, adding a comfortable chair built for two. Colorful rugs and draperies further softened the austerity. Pictures and tapestries hung on the walls. They’d turned a cookie-cutter pre-fab into a welcoming, warm home—the kind of home he would never have.

“She believes the absolute worst—that we were involved in the Chicago massacre,” he pointed out.

“That’s the easiest part to clear up because it’s so patently false.”

“It was on the news!”

“Headlining on the news is pretty much proof it’s bullshit.”

Despite his misery, he chuckled. He couldn’t refute that. However, there was enough truth to the rest of the allegations that he couldn’t claim innocence.

Steel stroked his chin. “Don’t be surprised if our list of crimes grows. We’ll probably become the two most infamous cyborgs in the history of Earth. As long as we remain ‘at large,’ they’ll continue to use us as scapegoats, pinning everything from unsolved homicides, to botched missions, to hurricanes, and poor student test scores on us. Solutions will use our disappearance to their advantage, but believe me, behind closed doors, they’re freaking out, worrying when we’ll surface. They’re probably scared shitless we’ll target them .”

“That Solutions execs and the government might be crapping their pants is the sole bright spot in all of this.” He stopped pacing and cocked his head as an idea came to him. “We could fuck with them by making them think we’re out for revenge.”

“What do you mean?”

“We can use the HyperSphere like they do. We’ll plant some deep-fake, false sightings of us at various locations outside their homes and offices. Drop some names of their top execs and key government officials.”

Steel tossed his head and roared with laughter. “That’s fucking brilliant. Let’s do it.”

After losing Verity, to fuck with the organization that had been the source of his misery would give him vicious satisfaction.

A tentative knock sounded outside the cabin.

Fury practically fell over his feet lunging toward the door. She came !

“Can we talk?” Verity’s face was pale, and dark circles ringed her tired eyes. I did this to her. I caused her this pain.

“Of course. Thank you for coming.” His heart thudded.

She stepped inside, and her gaze shot to Steel.

“I was just leaving.” Grabbing his coat, he thumped Fury on the back and vacated the cabin.

She took a seat at a tiny table identical to the one in their kitchen.

He pulled out a chair. Déjà vu. Except, this time, the shoe was on the other foot. She would demand answers from him.

“You owe me the truth. The whole truth. If I sense you’re lying or withholding something, I will get up and leave, and you won’t get another chance.”

“I understand.” He felt sick. He would lose her, but he owed her the truth.

“Were…cyborgs responsible for the Chicago massacre?”

“Yes, but I wasn’t involved. For the record, neither was Steel.”

“But you’ve killed other people.”

“Yes.” Please don’t ask me how many. His brain had kept an exact count. He could never forget .

“You’re an assassin.”

“I was.”

The twist of her lips showed she didn’t consider that to be a mitigator. Once an assassin, always an assassin. “You thought you’d ignore the past and start over here?”

“That omits a lot of context,” he said.

“And what exactly is the context?”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“You didn’t have a choice whether or not to murder people?” She snorted.

“Does a soldier on the battlefield have a choice whether or not to kill the enemy? If he objects and walks away, he’ll be court-martialedfor desertion and imprisoned.”

Her lip curled. “You’re saying you were battling the enemy, and if you had objected, you would have been imprisoned.”

“I would have been executed. I killed people the government deemed enemies of the state, and when I did walk away, I was captured and slated for destruction. Steel and I were locked in containment pods headed for incineration on Hell’s Gate when an electronic surge deactivated our immobilizer bands. We took an evac pod and came to Refuge. ”

She blinked, her softening face offering the first sign of hope. Then she crossed her arms. “They just let you in? It doesn’t work that way.”

“They let me in because I had been preapproved for asylum and had already applied to Cosmic Mates. I’d been planning my escape for a while—it just hadn’t gone according to plan.” He leaned forward. “Can I please start at the beginning?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Fine.”

“Solutions owned me—and I don’t mean metaphorically. The government classifies cyborgs in the same category as robots. We are considered property like a house bot or a hovercar. My DNA is human, and I am mostly organic but modified by nano technology. I wasn’t born; I emerged from a gestation vat as a mature adult.” Something flickered in her eyes, but he wasn’t sure what.

“Solutions is a fixer for the government. They’re a pseudo-private company the deep state hires when legal remedies have failed or when they prefer not to seek legal redress. Solutions allows the political elite to keep their hands clean. The cyborg line was developed to manage pesky governmental problems, but Solutions is allowed to contract with private individuals for the layer of protection it affords. Solutions looks like an independent company, giving the government plausible deniability.

She dropped her crossed arms. “Are you implying the government hires Solutions to kill people?”

“I’m not implying it. I’m stating it. That’s what’s happening. If there’s a terrorist leader the government needs executed, and the military can’t do it, Solutions handles it. Drug cartel leaders. Gang members. Coyotes and smugglers. Suspected serial killers and pedophiles. Guilty people acquitted of heinous offenses or suspected of crimes the government can’t prove in court. Haven’t you noticed how murder and robbery rates drop right before an election involving an incumbent? Solutions eliminates the recidivist offenders. The crime rate goes down, and the incumbent claims credit for successful law-and-order policies.”

“But those deaths would be reported as murders.”

“Not if the bodies vanish. Not if they’re shipped to Hell’s Gate. The individuals I targeted were murderers, drug runners, and homegrown and foreign terrorists.”

“The world is better off without those people,” she said.

He could have left it at that, but he’d promised honesty and transparency .

“Mostly,” he said. “No one would argue the death of a murderous cartel member or a child rapist is a great tragedy. If I could have been certain all my targets were irredeemable, vile criminals, I might have made a different decision. But between guilt and innocence lies a vast gray area of uncertainty and mitigating factors, and where do you draw the line? How bad is too bad to be allowed to live? And, most importantly, who gets to draw the line? What are the motives of the person drawing that line?

“The deep state and Solutions circumvent the laws and the legal process for their own aims. I began to doubt the accuracy of the dossiers I received, wondering if the individuals were guilty of the crimes they were accused of. However, we were not allowed to ask questions. Did I kill innocent people?” He took a breath. She did the same. Her lips parted as she waited for him to answer his own question.

“Maybe. Probably. Were they paragons of virtue? No. But I suspect some of them were framed.”

“You couldn’t leave? You couldn’t just say, I quit?”

“And go where? Solutions owned me. If I’d left, they would have hunted me down. If the authorities found me, they’d return me to the company. Solutions would have eliminated me—which is what they tried to do when I did leave. Besides the fact that I was legally their property, I knew too much about their operations. Solutions and the government can’t risk exposure.”

“And the Chicago massacre?”

“That was a political hit. Mayor Lyttle did or didn’t do something and ran afoul of the political machinery, so they took her out. There was only one cyborg involved. Either he was ordered to execute everyone in her office to set an example, or he got caught killing her and tried to clean up, but witnesses got away.

“When I caught wind of the massacre, I ran. I couldn’t stomach any more.” He wiped his hand across his mouth. “I longed for what everyone else—everyone human—had, or seemed to have—a normal life, a home, freedom, but most of all, love. I wanted to be loved. To love someone in return.” He glanced at her. He couldn’t read her expression.

“I am sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. Passing as human was the only way to get sanctuary. And then you came, and you had Brody, and you were so protective of him. I tried to tell you, but I chickened out. I’m so sorry.”

Elbows on the table, he rested his forehead against his palms. There was nothing more he could say, except for one thing. “I love you, Verity. I love Brody. I would never do anything to hurt either of you. I have no right to ask, but please don’t leave me.”

The chair scraped against the floor. She’s leaving. He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to watch her go. He waited for the sound of the door, a blast of cold air, but instead felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up.

“I love you.” She settled on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I want you to come home.”

“Really?”

“Really.” She nodded.

He let out a whoop and kissed her, long and deep. Happiness vibrated clear through his bones. He hugged her tight then kissed her again until she was breathless. When he let her up for air, she sought his gaze. “I’m sorry I wouldn’t let you explain.”

“I understand. I know what it looked like—and at best, it’s not good.”

“It’s not good, but knowing your targets weren’t innocents does mitigate the situation. I know what it’s like not to have options. If not for Cosmic Mates and Refuge, I would have lost custody. For you to not even have that…” She shook her head. “I had to lie to ensure Brody’s safety, so how can I blame you for your omissions? I’m sorry I wouldn’t listen to you. ”

“It’s over now.” He felt like for the first time the slate had been wiped clean, and he’d gotten a genuine fresh start. He didn’t deserve it and would never take his second chance for granted. He vowed that if a situation arose, and he could help, he would pay it forward.

“Do we tell Brody?” he asked.

“When he’s older. He adores you. He asked about you all night long. He would be over the moon to learn you’re a cyborg, but he wouldn’t be able to keep the secret. When he’s mature enough to understand what’s at stake, then I would like to tell him.”

“Fair enough.” He kissed her.

“I should pop in at the school and tell Brody you’re home,” she said.

Home. I am home.

“Do you have to go to work today?” A suggestive gleam glinted in her eyes.

Desire stirred immediately. “Don’t you?”

“It’s been slow at the infirmary. I think Dr. Twygg would give me a mental health day.”

“Steel would cover for me.”

“Can you get a conveyance?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Another naked picnic at the hot spring? ”

Holding her tight, he leaped out of the chair. She squealed and then laughed. He set her on her feet, letting her slide down his body. He stared into her eyes. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Everyone deserves a chance to be happy,” she said. “This is ours.”

Hand in hand, they left the cabin.