starts.
Itâs one thing to deal with an unconscious enemy. Itâs quite another to deal with a conscious one.
I touch the locket that hangs around my neck. Her locket. I remind myself that as long as I am wearing it, I hold the power.
When I first brought her here, she had it clutched between her gnarled, charred toes. Somehow in the fire, sheâd managed to grasp it and open the clasp to activate her DZ227 gene. The chain was broken beyond repair, but I was able to steal a nearly identical one from a nearby jewelry shop after the store had closed.
I sit by her bed and wait for her to stir. It shouldnât be long before her last Modifier dose wears off and sheâs awake.
Up until this moment, Iâve tried not to look at her for too long. Just as Iâve tried not to touch her. But now, I force myself to stare at her face. If Iâm going to succeed in this mission, I must confront my fears head-on. I must desensitize myself to whatever it is that seems to take control of me in her presence. I must approach this as any scientist on the Diotech compound would: analyze the situation, test the boundaries, and develop a strategy.
My gaze sweeps across her soft, exquisite features, taking in her high, sculpted cheekbones, the smoothness of her bronzed skin, the curve of her golden lashes, the shape of her delicate pink lips. Then it starts. I feel it in my toes first. A tingling of sorts. It travels swiftly up my legs, as though itâs flowing through my veins. The longer I stare at her, the faster it moves.
I reach for her, fingers outstretched toward her cheeks. My hand is trembling, repelled by her and pulled in to her at the same time. When my fingertips finally graze her soft skin, my whole hand explodes. Like Iâve dipped it into the mouth of a volcano.
I recoil in a blur of movement, stopping the fire from spreading up my arm.
What is that?
Why am I reacting this way ?
Is she really so powerful that she can affect me even when sheâs unconscious?
Iâve watched every memory theyâve taken from her. Iâve seen the world of the Diotech compoundâand the boy she left it withâthrough her eyes, and I still donât understand it. I canât comprehend her motivations. Nor her uncanny ability to affect me.
Where does that power come from? Is it a rare by-product of her defect? Or is it something else? Something I canât even fathom?
Unfortunately, Iâm running out of time to answer such questions because a flicker of movement catches the corner of my eye. I pull my gaze away from her face and stare at her hand, resting palm-up by her side. Her pinkie finger flinches ever so slightly.
The Modifier is wearing off. She is waking up.
I rise to my feet and start for the kitchen. The solution in her IV was only enough to keep her nourished while she was deactivated. Sheâll be hungry when she wakes.
As I leave, I take one more look at her sleeping form. Her genetic implantâthe thin black line that runs across the inside of her left wristâis visible on her arm. Itâs identical to mine, but just like the microscopic nanosensors swimming in her blood, the implant wonât work here. The satellites Diotech uses to track the implants wonât be launched into space until the next century. Itâs the reason it took them so long to find her in the first place.
But now, I am here.
I am her guardian.
I am her tracker.
I am her keeper.
But just until Dr. Maxxer can be found, the Repressor can be obtained, and I can return Sera safely to the Diotech compound.
Then they will be able to fix her. Then they will do whatever is necessary to make her whole again. To make her more like me.
The only problem is, Iâm not sure what that means anymore.
They told me I was perfect. They told me I was superior. They promised whatever defects they found in her were fixed in me.
But as I glance back at her face one last time, as I feel the
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