Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
After that day, I never saw her again. I also never spoke about it again.
S: I witnessed the anguish that day when you were forced to leave her.
The blood in my veins freezes and I stare unblinking at the text, reading it over and over again.
There’s no denying it. S is absolutely talking about Calista.
How? Who? The only people I recall witnessing said anguish was Dad and Ted. Ted, though loyal to Dad, feeds me intel. We both know I’m taking over one day and it’s in his best interest to keep me in the loop on all things CUP related.
Did Dad tell someone and now they’re using it against me? Or was someone else there, in the peripheral of my shadowy memories, watching and waiting.
Me: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
I’m not about to confirm the truth to this person.
The message doesn’t go through. Number no longer in service. What the actual fuck?
“I have work to do in the lab later,” Dad says, interrupting my racing thoughts. “Care to sit in with me, Caius?”
“New subject?” I ask, attempting to bring my focus back to work.
“It’s a favor for a friend. The veteran has severe PTSD. Taliban captured him and did a number on him. When he was rescued and brought back home, he’s been going off the rails. Meds and therapy aren’t working. They want a full CUP makeover.”
I want to ask who the friend is but bite my tongue. In the past, I learned these important details with patience. If Dad ever sees how eager I am to pull all these threads he holds, he will push me away. It’s in his nature. We’re all actors in his big theatrical production. The ending is by his design.
“Should be easy enough,” I say instead.
War vets, because of the horrors they’ve seen and endured, are some of the most susceptible to success in our program. We spend weeks retraining their brain to forget their traumas through extensive therapy and mind manipulation. Unfortunately for the vets, there’s an ulterior motive behind healing them.
“Will he go into the CUP Stars program?”
Dad nods. “Highly trained killers lying in wait are a valuable resource.”
CUP Stars is an extension of our usual program. It’s a side project Dad created where we use MK Ultra techniques to design a trigger for our subject. Within the reformation that takes place, we implant a series of dormant ideas to be activated at a moment’s notice. These killers are then sold as insurance policies to wealthy people. The subject goes on to live their normal lives, seemingly cured from their PTSD. All it takes, though, is a phone call, text, or email to trigger the subject into carrying out a lethal agenda for the purchaser. The family, who got the subject into the CUP program to begin with, assumes the program was unsuccessful. Our contracts have fine print preparing them for only eighty-percent effectiveness, thus leaving us free from liability.
“Your friend,” I say, leaning forward in my chair to meet Dad’s gleaming stare. “Is he aware of CUP Stars?”
“Of course not. Some secrets never leave this room.”
I’m relieved to see Dad hasn’t lost his trust in me, especially after what happened with Gareth. Maybe I can find Calista after all. I feel so close I can taste it.
I just have to make sure Romy doesn’t fuck things up for me.
And find out who the hell S is.
Romy
I’m not crazy.
I recognize her. I know her. I’m afraid of her.
The plane’s engine vibrates as we fly across the US to New York. Everyone—Caius, Theo, and Orion—are relaxed. Annoyingly so.
As for me?
I can’t take my eyes off the woman.
There’s nothing outwardly horrible about her. Sitting beside Kaitlyn, both of them coloring in their own coloring books, she looks sweet and matronly. Her honey-colored hair is swept into a loose but practical bun. Even her outfit—a plaid dress and boots—is stylish yet demure. She wears a soft smile as she speaks lowly to Kaitlyn.
It’s her fingernails that make me shudder.
Red. Long. Terrifying.
She reminds me of the monster all those years ago—a monster Dad said didn’t exist. It’s what started me on this whole “Romy’s crazy” journey that led to multiple prescription changes and endless therapy sessions over the years.
Fabricated.
Made up.
Not real.
“Your mind is an unreliable narrator,” Maura used to say often, always followed by a throaty chuckle that made my skin crawl.
If anything good has come out of this Crowne abduction, it’s that I no longer have to see Maura. This is probably a time when I need her the most—when my mind is a chaotic mess and I’ve been forcibly withdrawn from my medication. However, not being made to talk to her about all my mental anguish is freeing.
Because she made you feel crazy.
They all did.
Bitterness burns like acid in my throat. I tear my gaze from the suspicious nanny and inspect my phone just to keep my eyes off the woman.