Page 81 of Fractured Devotion
I glance down the hallway. There’s nothing. No movement. Then, I look back at him. “Why?”
He leans in close. “Because you’re in danger. And I think I finally know why.”
My blood chills.
I undo the chain. And I let him in.
He steps inside cautiously, his hands tucked into his coat like he doesn’t want to touch anything. I close the door and lock it behind him, the click of the bolt louder than it should be.
“Talk fast,” I say, folding my arms.
Alec nods. He doesn’t sit. He just looks around once, absorbing the stark space, and then his eyes settle on mine. “I started tracing abnormal network pings last week. There are shadow entries in the patient logs, experimental files, and things that should have been deleted.”
I narrow my eyes. “What kind of files?”
He licks his lips and hesitates before answering, “Recordings. Some of them are old Miramont surveillance protocols and psychological conditioning trials. Not part of the current scope.”
My stomach knots. I already know where this is going.
“What do they have to do with me?”
Alec finally moves, perching on the edge of the small counter. “Some of the neural pattern templates? They match your biometric ID. Trial 14 is still active, Celeste. You’re not just a researcher in this place. You’re still the experiment.”
I feel my knees weaken, and I sink onto the bed.
“But that project was scrapped.”
“On paper, yes. But someone kept it alive. Someone who needed you to keep questioning your sanity.”
I think of the photo, the van, and the edits in my files.
“Who?”
He hesitates again.
I shoot him a glare. “Don’t you dare say you don’t know.”
Alec sighs. “I think it’s Kade.”
The words don’t surprise me, not really. But they still punch through something fragile in my chest.
“Why?”
He shrugs helplessly. “He has access to the legacy logs, and his behavioral modeling algorithms were used in the early design. He’s been close to you since day one. Too close.”
I run a hand down my face. “I knew it was a mistake to trust anyone.”
Alec straightens. “We can expose it, but we have to move carefully. He’s not working alone. Rourke’s covering for someone. And if we push too fast, the whole system buries us.”
I look up at him, my voice a little above a whisper. “Why are you helping me?”
Alec doesn’t hesitate this time when he answers, “Because someone has to.”
And just like that, his response makes me feel less alone.
I hand him a bottle of water from the fridge. He takes it but doesn’t drink. He just turns it over in his hands.
“I’m not sure how far the rot goes,” he says. “But this isn’t just about Trial 14. It’s about control. Long-term conditioning. You’re part of something they started building years ago.”
