Page 109 of Beautiful Prey

He shrugged. “Being able to lift a car engine and see a fly from several yards away in the dark but have a crazy woman grinning at you half the time and other horrific hallucinations that would give Lovecraft a run for his money. I’d have said ‘fuck that’ if I had a choice.”

I paused, taking a few bites of my food. “Do you ever think about why they did it? Like what the drugs were meant for?”

“More like, who they were meant for,” he said.

My brows furrowed. “Who?”

He took a bite of his taco and rolled his shoulder. As he swallowed, he said, “Who else but those they could manipulate? Those who they can use and control.”

“They as in…?”

“Anyone who has the power to make people do what they want. Governments, elite. For the nifty price of five million, you can have your very own agent who will tear your enemies a new asshole and never leave a trace. A team of agents who will be so destructive no organization would be left standing.”

“You really think that’s what they were doing?”

“I don’t think. I’m sure,” he said.

“It’s hard to believe something like that could even be real,” I said.

He scooped up rice and let it fall on his plate. “MKUltra was real. And that was just a precursor to this.”

My throat tightened. I reached across the table and took his hand. He glanced at me, and I tried to give him an apologetic look. He turned his palm and squeezed my hand gently in response.

I changed the subject after that. We ate and talked and, for the first time since St. Agnes, I almost felt like we were back to the way we had been. Almost.

When we finished, Emery wrapped the leftovers and put it back in the fridge as I took the plates and put them in the sink, letting hot water run over them. My eyes drew over to the little digital clock on the oven. It was blinking eleven, not changed since the power came back on.

“What time is it?” I asked, looking to fix the clock. My perception of time had only been by the light coming through the boards.

Emery went over to the monitor, studying a line of small print along the bottom of each of the feeds. I realized they must have the date and time, which I hadn’t bothered to notice until now.

“Half past twelve,” he said.

I looked over at him as he turned toward me. We must have both been thinking the same thing.

It was the Eve of Halloween.

The anniversary of the massacre.

And my…

I quickly washed the dishes, hoping he hadn’t seen my expression. Still, I stiffened as the energy between us changed.

“Talk to me, Evee,” he said after a moment of silence.

I rinsed the plates and set them aside before I dared turn back to him.

“What do you want me to say?”

He studied my face, then came to my side and took my hand. “I see it in your eyes. If you want to scream at me, I’ll take it.”

I clenched my jaw. “I already did that, didn’t I?”

His lip twitched. “Yeah, you did. But I’ll take it again.”

My gaze dropped to our hands. “I know you're not sorry,” I said quietly.

“No,” he answered. “Not sorry for them.” He gently brushed a lock of hair from my face, his fingers tracing down my jaw. “But I am sorry…for hurting you.”

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