Page 76 of Penny for Your Saints

Without context, this seemed to fall into somewhat of a questionable moral area. I asked Frank why he wanted me to gather this information. What use could it serve him? That’s when he told me about his time as an FBI agent, a ‘boy scout’ and true believer who witnessed corruption at the highest levels of government firsthand.

Corruption of the powers that be, in conjunction with the virus—ultimately destroyed Frank’s professional career, forced him to live a lie after the Feds covered up a fatal accident in the field with his supposed death and hero’s burial—along with the actual death of Frank’s only known fated mate at the time, who Frank now seeks to avenge by exposing the very systems that robbed him of his future, of his happiness.

The tale was as heartbreaking as it was compelling. So of course I found myself suddenly fighting for the cause—for Frank. I began trying my best to help Frank get his revenge, to keep anyone else from suffering as Frank had suffered.

Of course, my findings, as I began to plumb the depths of the Penny’s research and development, only further ensnared me. The more we dug, the more we seemed to uncover instances of foul play. Clear evidence of the government hedging theirbets on the future of commercial applications for the fated mate testing, the designation prediction and switching; and, of course, the introduction of the mysterious virus into the omega and sigma population, most likely via illegal drugs.

When I had first begun researching the Penny's work, I never once dreamed that one day I would sit alongside their daughter when the Saints made this very important discovery.

Quentin, as if sensing the tension in the room, speaks—his voice soft and gentle.

“Louise, darling, would you do the honors?”

Louise shakes her head slowly and turns her face to me, her cinnamon eyes pleading—her hands balled into fists, clutched against her chest.

“Caz,” she manages to croak out, her voice dry and thin. “Can you? I don't think that I….” she trails off, her knuckles going white and bloodless as she clenches her fists ever tighter.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Of course.” I shuffle on my hands and knees until I'm in front of the machine once more, Louise watching hesitantly from over my shoulder.

There's not much on the desktop. Only the standard icons for email, recycling bin and two folder icons: one labeled ‘Resources,’ the other labeled ‘For Louise.’

As my mouse hovers over the folder icon ‘For Louise,’ she draws in a sharp breath next to my ear—her chin resting in the place between my neck and my shoulder. I turn my face, my lips nearly touching hers as I drop my gaze to her—raised brows and pursed lips asking for permission.

She takes a steadying breath and nods, urging me on.

I open the folder, several video files laying in wait.

The first video, a thumbnail of Louise's parents, sitting on a couch, simply labeled ‘1’.

I hold my breath and double click.

The screen brightens, the sunlit living room glowing on the screen in the close, dark cottage.

Margot and Landon, softly smiling, fill our vision. Louise pushes away from me, nearly doubled over in front of the screen, both hands cupped over her mouth as tears stream down her face.

“Hey, Louie,” Landon says softly, crows feet creasing the corners of his blue-green eyes.

“Hey Honey.” Margot’s voice hitches slightly as she forces the greeting out sweetly. “It seems so dramatic to say, but if you're listening to this there's a very good chance that we're already gone, dear.” Margot’s voice is at once comforting and mournful.

Louise closes her eyes, allowing the tears to fall, struggling to breathe in through her nose, hands still clamped down hard over her mouth as her parents continue to speak on the recording.

“While it's entirely possible that somebody else may have gotten to this machine before you did, we’re hoping that everyone was so distracted with all the other inevitable fallout—in the event of our…” he trails off for a moment before starting up again. “That this managed to slip by,” Landon’s voice quavers and Margot offers a weak smile into the camera, her fingers interlacing with her husband’s as they cling to one another.

“There's a very good chance that your mother and I have been eliminated due to the nature of our discoveries while working for the government and the Department of Reproduction,” he clarifies before Margot begins to fill the ensuing silence.

“Back when we began our independent research in academia, your father and I had been motivated to not only find and develop a way to discover designation earlier than the point of adult ripening—but to manipulate that designation at any time. Our motivation, of course, was to reduce the scarcity of omegas and sigmas, to open the door on designation for everyone;to allow us to choose," Margot explains wistfully, looking at her husband with pride. In that moment, you can almost feel through the screen—the warm radiance of her love for him, and at the same time her palpable sadness, just beneath the surface.

In the next moment, that sadness begins to blossom, Margot's weak smile fading as her words return to her.

"They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions," Margot sighs before continuing. "So, we laid our way into the inferno—brick by brick." She blinks away a tear. "In the process of our research, we ended up finding out more than we bargained for. Not just about designations—how and when they present, but also we learned about indicators of fated mates—of the likelihood of scent matches."

Margot seems to have to steady herself before she continues, her voice taking on a pleading edge as she continues to explain carefully.

"Your father and I had sought only to use this information to free people—to change the very structure of our society, of the rights afforded to different designations! To bring about the destruction of the designation class system. Yes, I am ashamed to say our altruism and naiveté blinded us to the predatory nature of not just the government—but of pharmaceutical companies, commercial placement and matchmaking centers, the industrial heat and breeding industry—and, of course, all those rich and powerful who stand to benefit from the current system being as it is."

There is a heavy pause as Landon and his wife sit, holding

on desperately to one another. It's Landon, though, who breaks the silence, looking once again directly into the camera.

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