Page 59 of Her Lawless Prince

“Did you know?” Falke asked.

This was not a conversation. It was an interrogation. The thought should have occurred to him sooner, but he’d been focused on Payton when the man walked in.

“About the virus? Not directly.” Nyle found no reason to lie.

“But you carry the blame?”

“I was in a different department, but I knew they were cloning my organs to use inside the cyborgs. They wanted them to be resistant to the dangers of space. They tested everyone for the project. My unknown off-worlder parentage made me the ideal candidate. My best guess is that was why I didn’t get sick like the others.”

“You donated your organs, and you believe you’re responsible for what was done to them.” Falke gave no indication of what he was thinking.

“All the cogs that made the machine possible hold responsibility—from the politicians and corporations who greedily pushed for more technology, to those cooking up diseases in the lab, to people like me who didn’t know directly but went to work every day and made Yeven Genetic Cyborgtronics Laboratories money to continue experimenting. I should have asked questions. I should have snuck in and looked at the files. I should have done something.”

No. He should not be forgiven. None of them should be.

Nyle wanted the screaming echoes to stop. They wouldn’t.

“And by that logic, the citizens who voted in the politicians were also to blame?” Falke asked.

Nyle frowned and took a small step forward in challenge. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Falke arched a brow.

Nyle caught himself and evened his tone. “What I mean to say is, they have paid enough of a price. No one could have expected them to be reasonably aware of what was happening. Security on the project was kept tight.”

“And…” Falke’s eyes closed briefly, and he took a deep breath. “ThisYevgenis one of yours?”

“I sent him to watch over the Cysgodians and report back to me so I could keep an eye on them. I tried to find a way to help, but no one outside of this planet wanted to get involved, not with the Federation running things, not with it being...” Nyle caught himself.

“Primitive territory in the X quadrant that has little value beyond its ore and is definitely not worth angering the Federation over?” Falke finished for him.

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” Nyle answered.

“Others might.” Falke seemed proud of the description, as if he liked that the universes underestimated them.

“I know the Federation is interested in mining your ore. Qurilixen isn’t part of the Federation Alliance. I’ve checked. I assumed after they built Shelter City you would be.”

“They’ve offered. We’ve refused.”

Nyle figured there was much more to the story but didn’t ask. Not many people said no to the Federation.

Falke continued to study him with his untelling expression. “This Yevgen. Can he feel?”

“I don’t know how to answer that.” Nyle tried to tell himself to stop talking. He didn’t know what the commander wanted from him, and angering this man wasn’t good for anyone.

Falke glanced around the suite before taking a seat on the edge of the pristine white couch. He held himself rigid. “You’re a scientist. You helped make him.”

“I programmed him to protect the Cysgodians. That is his central focus. Everything he does is constructed around that.” Nyle didn’t take a seat to join the commander. The man looked as if he could still pounce at any moment.

“You gave him your heart, your blood, your tissue. Can he feel? It’s a simple question.”

Simple? Nyle frowned. There was nothing simple about Yevgen.

There was nothing simple about this conversation.

“He has nerve endings. Pain is a useful sensation. It tells us when we are injured,” Nyle said.

Falke’s eyes darkened.

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