Married To My Enemy's Son
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She just clutched my necklace and whispered, “They're listening.”
We fled through the catacombs with sirens echoing behind us, the child cradled between us. Out into the night, vanishing into Istanbul’s chaos.
Her name was Eve.
At least, that’s what the tag on her wrist said. No last name. No birth date.
“She’s a prototype,” Wren said, examining the data we extracted. “Designed for immunity. Intelligence. Obedience.”
“She’s a child,” I snapped. “Not a weapon.”
Adrian stared at her as she slept. “She might be both.”