Chapter Twenty-One — Twenty-Four Hours With My Enemy

The program ends only when you produce O-18.

My mother’s words followed me out of the townhouse.

They followed me through the rain, into the waiting car, and across the city while streetlights moved in blurred gold lines beyond the window.

O-18.

Not a name.

Not a child.

A designation.

A number assigned to someone who did not even exist yet.

Someone Cradle already believed belonged to them.

I sat in the back seat with my hands locked together and tried not to think about the fact that my mother had looked at my abdomen when she said it.

Ronan sat beside me.

Too close.

Not touching.

That somehow made me more aware of him.

Marcus occupied the front passenger seat, speaking quietly with the driver and checking routes every few minutes. We had changed vehicles twice before leaving my parents’ neighborhood.

No Vale security.

No company network.

No predictable route.

The precautions should have made me feel safer.

They did not.

Ronan finally broke the silence.

“You are thinking too loudly.”

I turned toward him.

“I was unaware that had become one of your abilities.”

“You keep clenching your jaw.”

“That is not thinking.”

“With you, it usually is.”

I looked back toward the window.

The heat had not disappeared.

It had changed.

The violent waves were less frequent, but my body remained painfully aware of Ronan’s presence. Every time he shifted, every time his sleeve brushed the seat between us, something inside me reacted before I could stop it.

I hated that Cradle had made me question whether any of it was mine.

My attraction.

My instincts.

My choices.

Even my anger.

Ronan lowered his voice.

“You believe them.”

“Which part?”

“That O-18 is supposed to be our child.”

I looked at him.

“I believe somebody wants that.”

“That is not what I asked.”

“No. I do not believe anyone gets to decide that.”

His gaze stayed on mine.

“Good.”

The answer irritated me.

“You sound relieved.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

His expression shifted.

“Because I am not interested in becoming someone’s breeding instruction.”

The word made my stomach tighten.

Neither of us spoke for a few seconds.

Then I said, “You heard my mother. An Ashcroft line was always part of this.”

“I heard her.”

“You may have been selected before you knew my name.”

“I know.”

“And that does not bother you?”

His mouth tightened.

“Adrian, I have spent the last several hours discovering that my family may have helped design a program that monitored your body from birth. Of course it bothers me.”

There was no sarcasm in his voice.

That made the answer heavier.

I looked away.

The car turned into an underground entrance beneath a glass tower I recognized immediately.

Ashcroft property.

Of course.

“You brought me to one of your buildings.”

“One of my private buildings.”

“That distinction does not improve anything.”

“It does if nobody in your family has access.”

Marcus glanced back.

“He is right.”

I looked at him.

“You are becoming dangerously comfortable agreeing with him.”

Marcus smiled faintly.

“Tonight has been unusual.”

The elevator required Ronan’s fingerprint, retinal scan, and a security code.

No receptionist.

No staff.

No visible cameras inside the private lift.

When the doors opened, I understood why he had called it secure.

The penthouse occupied the entire floor.

Glass walls overlooked the city.

Dark wood.

Stone.

Minimal furniture.

Everything expensive enough to be obvious without becoming vulgar.

Very Ronan.

I stepped inside.

“You live here?”

“Sometimes.”

“That sounds suspicious.”

“Most of my life does to you.”

“Correct.”

Marcus entered behind us.

Ronan locked the elevator manually.

Then he crossed to a security panel near the wall and activated several systems.

Steel shutters lowered across the secondary access doors.

Window sensors came online.

A map of the floor appeared.

Marcus looked impressed.

“No remote access?”

“None.”

“Company network?”

“Independent.”

“Who maintains it?”

“Two people.”

“Names?”

Ronan looked at him.

“Now you sound like Adrian.”

“That is why he pays me.”

For the first time all night, I almost relaxed.

Almost.

Then another wave of heat moved through me.

I gripped the back of a chair.

Ronan noticed immediately.

“Sit.”

“I am fine.”

“You have used that phrase so many times tonight it has lost legal meaning.”

I glared at him.

Marcus interrupted before I answered.

“We still need a doctor.”

“No.”

Ronan looked at me.

“You cannot continue like this for forty-eight hours.”

“I am not letting an Ashcroft physician examine me.”

“I did not say Ashcroft.”

“Then who?”

“A private specialist who owes allegiance to nobody.”

“That sounds fictional.”

“It is not.”

Marcus looked at me.

“You need someone.”

I hated that they were both right.

Again.

“Fine. But no records.”

Ronan nodded.

“No network upload. No company system. Nothing without your approval.”

I studied him.

“You had that answer ready.”

“I assumed eventually survival would become more important than winning the argument.”

“It has not.”

He almost smiled.

Marcus’s phone vibrated.

He looked down.

Then his expression changed.

“What?”

“I received a message from Vale Tower.”

I straightened.

“From whom?”

“Security.”

Ronan moved closer.

“What happened?”

Marcus turned the screen toward us.

A formal internal alert had been issued.

EXECUTIVE ACCESS SUSPENSION — ADRIAN VALE

My chest tightened.

I took the phone.

The notice continued.

My access to Vale Tower.

Suspended.

My authority over security.

Suspended.

My board privileges.

Temporarily restricted pending emergency review.

I stared at the authorization line.

ISSUED BY: CHAIRMAN THEODORE VALE

Ronan said nothing.

He did not need to.

My father had just locked me out of my own company.

Another message arrived.

This one was directly from Theodore.

DO NOT RETURN TO VALE TOWER.

A second followed.

TRUST NO ONE ASSOCIATED WITH CRADLE.

Then a third.

I stopped breathing.

INCLUDING YOUR MOTHER.

I looked up.

Ronan read it.

His expression hardened.

Before either of us could speak, the penthouse security system chimed.

One access request.

Private elevator.

Marcus looked toward the panel.

“That should be impossible.”

Ronan crossed the room.

The screen showed no visitor identification.

Only a biometric result.

AUTHORIZED ASHCROFT FAMILY ACCESS.

Ronan went completely still.

I looked at him.

“Who has that?”

His face changed.

“My father.”

The elevator began rising.

Marcus reached for the emergency lock.

Ronan stopped him.

“No.”

I stared at him.

“You want to let him in?”

“No.”

“Then stop the elevator.”

Ronan looked at the floor display.

Twenty-eight.

Thirty-four.

Forty-one.

His jaw tightened.

“He should not know I brought you here.”

My blood went cold.

The elevator passed fifty.

Then sixty.

Ronan drew his pistol.

Marcus moved beside the security panel.

I stood behind them both.

The heat in my body suddenly felt irrelevant.

The elevator reached the penthouse.

The doors opened.

No one stood inside.

Just a black leather folder on the floor.

Ronan did not move.

Neither did I.

Marcus approached carefully and lifted it with a cloth.

On the front was a silver emblem I had never seen before.

A cradle surrounded by a crown.

Ronan opened the folder.

Inside was a single document.

At the top:

O-17 / A-04 COHABITATION OBSERVATION — COMMENCED

My stomach dropped.

Beneath it was a countdown.

24:00:00

Then the timer changed.

23:59:59

Ronan looked at me.

The penthouse lights went out.

And somewhere inside the apartment, a door opened.