Chapter 10 Ghosts on the List

Morning came.

Dominic's chair was empty.

When Avery woke up, he was already dressed. Hearing her stir, he turned.

"Let's go. The lab."

He didn't give her time to hesitate.

Drake stayed behind to watch the house. The car waited at the gate.

Dominic walked ahead in a dark tactical jacket. Avery followed. They got in the car, both lost in their own thoughts. Neither spoke the whole way.

The road grew narrower. Avery recognized it. Her parents used to take her here when she was little.

Back then, there were lights on both sides. The lab building glowed from within, bright through the windows. From a distance, it looked like a glass box.

Now there was nothing. The trees had grown wild, branches reaching into the road, scraping across the roof of the car.

The car stopped. The ground was covered in dead branches and fallen leaves that crunched underfoot.

The air smelled heavily of rust, mixed with something chemical.

Stepping over the threshold, Avery saw doors hanging crooked, some fallen. Light fixtures dangled from the ceiling, glass tubes shattered. Dark scratches ran down the walls.

"Drake, are the crews clear today?" Dominic spoke into his earpiece.

"All clear, boss."

"But someone's been inside." He aimed his flashlight at the floor. Fresh footprints stood out, the tread pattern still sharp. "More than one."

Avery stayed close behind him.

"You—"

"Don't touch the walls." He cut her off.

A pipe lay across the floor. She didn't lift her foot high enough and stumbled. Her hand shot out—

And caught his back.

His muscles tensed.

Neither of them moved.

Her hand stayed pressed against him. Through the jacket, she could feel his body heat.

He didn't turn around. He didn't say anything. He waited a few seconds to make sure she had her balance, then kept walking.

At the end of the hallway stood a half open door. Dominic pushed it open. Avery followed close behind.

The room was filled with shattered glass and shredded paper. A burned metal cabinet sat in the corner. A hole in the window let the wind blow through.

Avery walked to the center of the room. Something crunched under her foot.

The flashlight beam dropped to the floor. A pile of burned paper ash, edges still smoldering. Something underneath reflected the light.

She crouched down and brushed away the ash.

A folder. The plastic cover was half melted, but the papers inside were mostly intact.

Words printed on the cover, burned down to half legible.

Subject List.

She opened it.

Name blank. Status: Terminated.

Terminated. 003. Terminated.

She flipped page after page, her fingers pressing against the paper.

She stopped. Julian. Status blank.

Dominic. Status blank.

After that, no number. Just a line in italics.

Candidate A. Status: Pending.

"What does this mean?"

"You were never a subject." He stood behind her, his flashlight shining over her shoulder. "Wenger was waiting for the right moment to bring you in officially. He never got it."

She gripped the folder, her fingertips nearly tearing through the melted plastic.

She thought back to the first time Wenger looked at her. The scholarship. The words "you're my last student."

It had all been a setup from the start.

Back in the car.

"Where are 001 through 046 now?" she asked.

He was quiet for a few seconds. "Some went mad. Some burned. Wenger called it 'termination.'"

"Did you ever see 001?"

Another pause.

"Yes." His voice was low. "Seven years ago. He was sitting in a corner, holding a photo of a little girl. That was the first time they brought me through that door."

She looked at him, waiting for more. He said nothing else.

The only sound was the road beneath the wheels.

She looked down at the folder in her hands. She thought of the door Dorothea had drawn. The star shaped mark.

Her daughter had never been there. But she could draw it.

Avery didn't dare think further.

Back at the villa, Drake waited at the door. His face was wrong.

"Boss. A suspicious vehicle was caught on surveillance. Circled the villa twice. The plates are fake. Same model as one registered under Wenger's name."

"When?"

"Not long after you left. Headed north. We followed, then lost it."

Dominic took the tablet and stared at the screen.

"Lost it."

Drake lowered his head. "Once it got into the unfinished development area north of the city—"

"Drake." Dominic tossed the tablet back to him. "You know I don't keep dead weight."

"I'll go myself."

Drake turned to leave, then his finger froze on the screen.

He handed the tablet back. His hand trembled slightly.

"Boss. Look at this."

The surveillance footage had caught a reflection when a streetlight swept across the car window. Drake had zoomed in.

A hand rested on the steering wheel.

In that split second of light, the driver's sleeve had slipped back just enough to reveal a wrist.

Avery stopped breathing.

On the inside of that wrist was a raised, twisted knot of scar tissue. In the center of the knot, a dark number was carved.

On the list, the status for 001 had said—

Terminated.

She looked up at Dominic.

He stared at that number. He didn't move.

The hallway lights hummed. Quiet.

Then he spoke, his voice low.

"He's alive."

The three of them stood in the hallway. No one spoke.

Dominic handed the tablet back to Drake. "Double the men. The perimeter stays guarded tonight."

Drake left. Dominic went to the study.

That night, Avery couldn't sleep.

Lights shone outside. Footsteps sounded downstairs. Drake's men patrolled all night.

She lay in bed, tossing and turning. Kicking off the blanket, pulling it back. Her mind was full of 001, the folder, the black SUV.

Frustrated, she sat up.

Dorothea slept beside her, hugging her rabbit. Her little pink face made Avery's chest feel warm.

She didn't go downstairs. Instead, she climbed the stairs to the top floor.

The hallway lights had been dimmed. Footsteps rumbled dully below as Drake's men changed shifts. She stepped onto the last stair and pushed open the door to the terrace.

The wind was strong, whipping her hair across her face.

Avery walked to the railing. The iron was cold. The rough feel of rust pressed into her palms.

Lights from the city spread out below. Headlights on the highway crawled north, one by one.

She didn't hear him come up. Didn't hear him approach.

She turned and saw him. He had his back to her, sitting on the low wall of the terrace. Moonlight came from behind him, outlining his profile.

His head was down. A cigarette hung between his fingers. He was rubbing the star shaped scar on his wrist. The wind blew through his shirt collar, ruffled his hair.

Avery stood there for a few seconds, then walked over. "You're not sleeping either?"

"What are you doing here? This isn't your business."

She ignored him and stepped closer, standing beside him.

"Drake said they lost the car. You think sitting here will bring it back?"

Dominic let out a cold breath and turned his face toward her.

"He's circling nearby. Trash like that follows the scent."

He stubbed out the cigarette and stood up. As he walked past her, his shoulder bumped hers.

"Go inside. Close the curtains. Watch the child. Don't get in my way."

Avery stayed on the terrace a while longer, then went downstairs.

On the first floor, the gym door was cracked open. A sliver of light leaked out.

A dull thud came from inside. Over and over.

Thud. Thud.

She pushed the door open. The main lights were off. Only a corner spotlight angled onto Dominic.

He wasn't wearing gloves. Just bare fists slamming into a heavy bag. The bag swung wildly, chains squeaking.

Every punch was full force. This wasn't training. This was breaking.

"Dominic. Stop."

He didn't listen. Each punch landed with a deep thud.

Avery rushed over. Before his fist could swing again, she threw her arms wide and lunged onto the bag.

Thud.

Dominic couldn't stop in time. The wind from his punch brushed past her ear and hit the edge of the bag.

The force slammed into her chest. She clung to the swinging leather cylinder. Her palm immediately felt something wet and cold.

His blood.

"Are you insane?" She looked up, her eyes meeting his bloodshot gaze.

He leaned against the other side of the bag, so close his ragged breath burned her forehead.

"Let go." His voice was hoarse.

"No."

She looked down at his hands braced on the leather. The skin over his knuckles was split open. Bright red blood ran down the seams of the bag, staining the white sleeve of her nightgown.

"Do you think breaking your hands will shut the voices off?"

She grabbed his wrist.

"Can't you feel the pain? Your knuckles are already bleeding. One more hit and the tendons will tear. Dominic. Is this how you stay sane?"

Dominic stared at her, his chest still heaving.

"Calm down. You're not in the lab. You're in your own home." Her voice softened. "There's no number here. No Wenger."

Dominic's fingers slowly relaxed.

He stepped back half a step, slid down the wall, and sat on the floor. His breathing was still heavy, but it began to slow.

Avery stayed quiet, watching him from a distance.

He sat against the wall, knees bent, hands resting on them. Blood still dripped from his fingers, drop by drop onto the floor. His eyes were closed. His lashes trembled.

Avery crouched down to his eye level.

"Dominic."

He didn't answer.

She reached out and gently took his wrist. He didn't pull away.

She examined his hand. The wounds on his knuckles were still seeping. The skin was split, revealing dark red flesh beneath. She found his pulse and waited. Finally, it slowed.

From memory, she located the first aid kit in the cabinet. She came back to him and crouched down. Iodine, gauze, tape. She laid them out on the mat.

She pulled his hand over and rested it flat on her knee.

He let her do it. His gaze was somewhere else. The line of his jaw was tight.

When the cotton ball touched the wound, his whole hand flinched. Veins rose on the back of his hand. She paused for a heartbeat, didn't look up at him, and switched to lighter, rolling strokes.

As the gauze wrapped around his hand, his breathing had already steadied. She taped it cleanly and finished.

While putting away the iodine and gauze, she kept her head down and muttered.

"I'm a psychiatrist. I've treated your physical wounds more times in the past few days than I've done actual therapy."

Dominic didn't say anything.

Avery closed the first aid kit and stood up.

"If you break your hands again, stitch them up yourself next time." She turned to look at him.

Dominic's eyes were on her face. His expression was complicated.

She thought he might say something. He didn't. He just pushed himself up the wall slowly.

They stood very close. Close enough that she could smell the blood and sweat still on him. He looked down at her. Avery felt her breathing fall out of rhythm.

"Still hurt?"

Avery didn't get an answer.

She turned and walked to the door. Her hand touched the handle, then paused.

"Are you sleeping tonight?"

Only silence answered her.

Back in her room, she pulled her daughter into her arms.

Her phone buzzed. A message from Dominic.

"001 is outside the city. Didn't come in."

She stared at the screen. Typed a few words. Deleted them. Typed again.

"Your hand. Change the bandages on time."

A few seconds later: "Okay."

She put the phone down and closed her eyes. Lights outside. Footsteps below. She counted the footsteps until sleep finally crept in.

4:00 AM. The phone vibrated on the nightstand.

Avery fumbled for it. The screen lit up. Dominic's number.

"Come downstairs." His voice came through.

"What's wrong?"

"001 is here."

She threw off the covers and ran downstairs. Dominic was already standing at the front door, staring into the dark outside.

"Where?"

"Outside the garden fence. He didn't come in."

He handed her the phone. The screen showed live surveillance. A figure stood outside the iron fence, hat hiding his face. He held something in his hand.

Avery looked through the glass panel in the door. The garden lights were on, but beyond the fence was pitch black. She couldn't see anything.

She turned her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the figure on the monitor move. Not turning away. He stepped forward and pushed something through the gap in the fence.

A few minutes later, Drake brought the object back.

A folder. Damp. It smelled of old formaldehyde.

Dominic peeled open the seal. Inside was a single sheet of paper.

A hand drawn floor plan of the villa.

Red circles marked every single security blind spot. Including the spot where they stood right now.

Avery stared at those circles. Her fingers tightened. This wasn't a threat. This was a message. He could come in whenever he wanted. But he hadn't.

On the back of the floor plan, a single line of writing.

Dominic flipped it over, glanced at it, and his face changed.

He didn't say anything. He handed the paper to Avery.

The line read:

[03:57 AM / Second floor / Dorothea's room / Emergency evacuation mode / Door lock disabled]

Avery stared at the words. Only one thought remained in her head.

It was 4:03 AM now.

He had already been inside. Six minutes ago.