Page 25 of The Order: Rise of the New Empire

"Why do you ask me all of a sudden about Dove?" Elyon questions, stopping us both dead in our tracks.

Pulling myself away from my swarm of thoughts, I look the man up and down, giving him a cold expression.

"You watched me for years, tormenting the people I love, using your daughter to do your dirty work," I snap. "The least you can do, is give me some clarity as to who you are, given I now seem to carry Dove's title," I hiss, his look of question quickly fading away.

Watching his pager blink at his side, he takes a quick glance, gravitating his focus away from the conversation at hand.

"We've been invited to spend a few days in the Precipice," he smiles, looking toward his men. "Let's see how much ruckus you and I can cause."

Moving away from my quiet figure, the man tucks his hands in his pockets, the creeping presence of his Call in my mind looking for answers casting a wave of unsettlement down my spine.

"Why'd you take a glance?" I question. His head rolls back to look at me.

"All this talk about family, made me wonder if you were reflecting on your beloved childhood with Katiana's mother."

Still caught up with his fascination of the Lockland woman, the man grasps at straws to see a side of the Lockland woman I had the exclusivity of knowing all too well.

"No," he sighs, giving me an empathetic look. "I wouldn't want to remember the torture either."

No longer entertaining conversation with me, the man moves forward, nothing but the memory of my childhood swarming my mind.

Touching my torso, a painful thought enters my mind.

I thought I was protecting Xavier and the others.

What the hell will I do for you?

Chapter seven

Melanie Blackburn- Years Ago

"Test subject Number Thirty. Active and awake," I say through the intercom, its scratchy tone blaring through the speakers, the child's wide eyes wincing each time I speak.

Looking through the double-sided glass, test subject Number Thirty, the Apparatus, shakes uncontrollably, the chillier months of the year no kind companion to our development.

One of the downfalls of keeping our work concealed is the conservation of energy, leaving most of us to bundle up in as many layers as we possibly can.

"It's ice cold in here," her small voice says, her head covered by her blanket, her eyes holding no trace of amusement.

"I told you we would work on trying to warm it up," I sigh, tapping the glass so she knows where I am.

Despite my ability to see her, her side is much less transparent, giving only one of us a one-way look into the other side.

"Remind me again why I am in here?" she questions, defiant as ever.

Over the past few months, her face has finally begun to gain some of the genetic structure we implemented, bits and pieces of her father and mother, and a dash of the Lockland bloodline, all mixed together to create the beauty that she is.

"You've done three of your five traits. I need you to try and use your Deception once more," I plea. "Then, I'll let you out and it's free time for you for the rest of the day," I smile, hoping the bribery of sweets and painting will be enough for her to try her hardest.

"Melanie," my husband's soft voice utters, his eyes heavy with the presence of sleep. Creeping into the observational space, he takes a cautious look around, the presence of two other bodies behind him startling me more than I'd like to admit.

"Trying," Number Thirty's voice mutters, her eyes rolling. "Trying-"

Hitting the button that feeds her noise into my space, she grows silent, containing on with her protests as if I can still hear her.

"What is this, Jacob?" I question, narrowing my eyes behind him, my hand instinctively reaching behind me, grazing the hilt of the pistol resting behind my back.

"No need for violence, Melanie," Jacob sighs, urging the group further into the space.

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