Chapter Forty-Seven — Primary or Replacement

The message stayed on my screen.

CHOOSE A-04 OR A-09.

Below it, the countdown kept moving.

22:41:32

Then:

22:41:31

Ronan looked at Cassian.

Cassian looked back.

For once, neither of them had anything sarcastic to say.

I hated that Cradle had managed to turn a doorway into a choice between people.

Not matches.

People.

That distinction mattered to me even if it meant nothing to them.

Marcus drove faster through the wet city streets.

“We have seventeen minutes to the tower.”

Damian looked toward me.

“And less than twenty-three hours before the second heat reaches full activation.”

“I am aware.”

Lucian turned in his seat.

“You cannot choose Cassian.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow despite the blood loss.

“Charming.”

Lucian ignored him.

“You already know your body responds most strongly to Ronan.”

Cassian’s expression tightened.

“That is exactly why Cradle expects him.”

I looked at Lucian.

“And that is exactly why I am not making the decision based on what Cradle expects.”

Ronan’s jaw hardened.

“Do not choose based on defiance either.”

I turned toward him.

“You think I am going to pick Cassian just to prove a point?”

“I think you are angry enough to consider it.”

“I am always angry enough to consider many things.”

“That does not make them wise.”

Cassian laughed softly from the back.

“I almost admire the relationship.”

“We do not have a relationship,” I said.

Ronan answered at the same time.

“We are working on terminology.”

I looked at him.

He almost smiled.

That helped more than it should have.

Then pain moved through me again.

Deep.

Slow.

Not enough to collapse me this time, but enough to steal half a breath.

Ronan noticed.

He shifted closer.

I did not stop him.

The pain eased.

Cassian watched from the back seat.

His expression became unreadable.

I saw it anyway.

Not jealousy exactly.

Something worse.

Recognition.

He knew why the answer seemed obvious.

And he also knew Cradle had spent years preparing him as the alternative.

I turned toward him.

“Would you go in if I chose you?”

The van became quiet.

Cassian looked at me for several seconds.

“Yes.”

Ronan’s face hardened.

Cassian continued before he could speak.

“But I would not touch you unless you asked.”

That mattered.

I nodded once.

Cassian looked toward Ronan.

“And if your condition worsened beyond what I could stabilize, I would get him.”

Ronan’s expression changed slightly.

Cassian smiled faintly.

“Do not look so grateful. I still dislike you.”

“Good.”

Normal hostility.

Almost comforting.

Damian checked the Ashcroft building schematics Marcus had pulled up.

“The O-17 access route does not lead to the main archive.”

I looked toward him.

“Where does it lead?”

“Private succession floor.”

Marcus glanced in the mirror.

“That sounds bad.”

“It is.”

“Specifics?”

Damian enlarged the map.

“Medical labs, genetic storage, designation assessment rooms.”

My stomach tightened.

“Cradle floor.”

“Yes.”

Ronan looked at him.

“You said the lower vault was beneath the tower.”

“It is. But the access they are offering Adrian takes him above it.”

Cassian leaned forward slightly, then winced from his shoulder.

“So the allowed route is a trap.”

“Obviously.”

I stared at the map.

“What route reaches the vault?”

Damian pointed.

“Service elevator here.”

Lucian frowned.

“Locked?”

“Biometric.”

“To whom?”

Damian looked at Ronan.

“A-series.”

Then at Cassian.

“Either of them.”

I understood.

Cradle expected us to enter through the designated route.

Which meant the fastest way to reach the inhibitor was to let them think we were obeying.

I looked at Ronan.

“You.”

His face went still.

Cassian leaned back against the seat.

No surprise.

No offense.

Only acceptance.

Ronan looked at me.

“You are choosing me.”

“For the door.”

Something sharp flickered in his expression.

“Of course.”

I hated that I heard the disappointment.

“Do not make that face.”

“What face?”

“The one pretending you do not care.”

“I am not pretending.”

“You are terrible at it.”

Cassian closed his eyes.

“Please continue arguing. It distracts from being shot.”

I ignored him.

“We enter together because your proximity is currently stabilizing me.”

Ronan’s expression softened slightly.

“And because?”

I stared.

“You really want more?”

“Yes.”

Arrogant man.

I leaned closer.

“And because I trust you more than Cassian while I am biologically compromised.”

That silenced him.

Cassian opened one eye.

“Rude.”

“Accurate.”

“Fair.”

Ronan looked at me for a long moment.

Then nodded.

“Good enough.”

The tower appeared ahead.

Ashcroft Tower rose through the rain, glass and steel reflecting the city in fractured strips of light.

Every exterior level was lit.

Too lit.

Marcus slowed near the underground entrance.

Security gates opened automatically.

No request.

No identification.

The screen beside the ramp displayed:

WELCOME, O-17.

My stomach turned.

Ronan read it.

“They really know how to make hospitality threatening.”

We entered.

The underground garage was almost empty.

Too empty.

No employees.

No visible guards.

Only cameras.

Hundreds of them.

Marcus stopped beside the private elevator bank.

Damian looked at Cassian.

“You stay with us.”

Cassian tried to sit upright.

“I can still move.”

“You can barely breathe without turning gray.”

“That is dramatic.”

“You are bleeding through the dressing.”

Cassian looked down.

It was true.

He swore.

Marcus turned toward me.

“We will find another way into the lower level.”

“No.”

He frowned.

“If Ronan and I can open the route, we open it from inside.”

“What if you cannot?”

“Then you improvise.”

Marcus stared at me.

“You really do think saying that makes a plan.”

“It usually does.”

He looked like he wanted to argue.

Then stopped.

Brother.

Not assistant.

The difference remained awkward between us.

I reached out and squeezed his shoulder once.

His expression changed.

“Stay alive.”

He looked at me.

“You too.”

Ronan stepped out of the van.

I followed.

Immediately, the heat tightened.

The enclosed garage carried his scent too clearly.

Cedar.

Smoke.

My pulse jumped.

He noticed.

“Still manageable?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me if that changes.”

“I will.”

“Promise.”

I looked at him.

“That sounded dangerously controlling.”

“Adrian.”

I sighed.

“I promise.”

We approached the elevator.

The biometric scanner lit.

First:

IDENTIFY O-SERIES SUBJECT.

I placed my palm against the glass.

A needle pricked my finger.

I swore.

Ronan’s expression hardened.

“Did you know it would do that?”

“No.”

The machine processed.

O-17 CONFIRMED.

Then:

SELECT MATCH ENTRY.

Two options appeared.

A-04

A-09

I pressed A-04.

The elevator doors opened.

Ronan looked at the screen.

“Romantic.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you do not.”

“Do not test me.”

We entered.

The doors closed.

Immediately, my phone vibrated.

PRIMARY MATCH SELECTED.

Then:

A-09 STATUS: REJECTED.

My stomach tightened.

“Rejected.”

Ronan looked at the message.

“That is not good.”

Before I could answer, Marcus called.

I accepted.

“What happened?”

His voice came sharp.

“Cassian.”

My pulse jumped.

“What about him?”

“He just collapsed.”

Ronan’s expression hardened.

“From the gunshot?”

“No.”

Marcus sounded frightened now.

“There is something happening with his implant.”

I went cold.

“What implant?”

A pause.

Then Cassian screamed in the background.

The sound cut through the phone.

Marcus shouted,

“His designation mark is burning.”

Ronan hit the elevator controls.

Nothing.

The doors remained locked.

I stared at the screen.

A new message appeared.

REPLACEMENT MATCH DECOMMISSION INITIATED.

My blood turned cold.

Ronan read it.

“No.”

I hit the emergency button.

Nothing.

The elevator began moving upward.

Not down.

Away from the vault.

Away from Marcus.

Away from Cassian.

My phone vibrated again.

ONLY ONE MATCH IS REQUIRED.

Then:

REDUNDANCY WILL BE REMOVED.

I stared at Ronan.

“They are killing him because I chose you.”

His face hardened.

“No. Cradle is killing him because Cradle decided he was disposable.”

The distinction mattered.

Not enough.

I grabbed the elevator rail.

“We stop this.”

Ronan looked at the control panel.

“Working on it.”

He ripped open the emergency access compartment.

Wires.

Manual override.

Nothing familiar.

I looked at the floor indicator.

Thirty-two.

Thirty-three.

Thirty-four.

Too fast.

Then the elevator stopped.

The doors opened.

White corridor.

Sterile.

Silent.

One room waited at the end.

The sign beside it read:

PAIRING OBSERVATION SUITE — O-17 / A-04

My body went cold.

Ronan stepped in front of me.

“No.”

A speaker activated.

PRIMARY PAIRING CONFIRMED.

Then another voice followed.

Human.

Male.

Older.

Familiar enough that Ronan went completely still.

“Welcome home, grandson.”

Ronan’s face emptied.

I looked at him.

He whispered,

“Elias.”

The far door opened.

And the man who had built half the nightmare stepped into the corridor alive.