Renegade (26 page)

Finally, Quinn must have been satisfied with the data on her screen, because she stretched her arms and stood. “I think it’s all in place. Mila, how do you feel about losing your mom?”

I felt the niggling of something, a momentary pang. But it was like something was pressing it back, keeping it dormant, until nothing remained but a pleasant numbness.

Somewhere, some tiny voice whispered in my head, telling me to fight this sudden onslaught of apathy. But any time I tried, it was like I hit a ceiling, like my emotions banged against cage doors until they dissipated. And once the calmness descended, I wondered—why fight that? Why fight something that made me more in control, more logical?

“Fine,” I said, easily. I detected no trace of turmoil.

“Wonderful. This is going to work out so well. Now I just need to run a scan and we’ll be all set for the next one.”

She detached a handheld scanner, akin to the ones I saw used at the airport, and started running it up and down my limbs. She paused over my abdominal area, a perplexed wrinkle above her nose. “Samuel . . . ?”

“Yeah, got it.” Silence for a moment as he withdrew the needles from my scalp, and then, “Can you move that a little to the right?”

She complied. “What is it?”

“Come over and take a look.” His voice sounded grim.

“Is everything okay?”

More silence. Finally, Quinn spoke. “Fine. Everything’s fine. Just a glitch with the system. Now, on to the next one.”

I heard Samuel shuffle his oversized feet. “I don’t know—” he started, but Quinn cut him off.

“I do. We still have the last upgrade, and then we’ll be good to go.”

“Next upgrade?”

“Hop up and let’s go,” she said, ignoring my question. I did as she asked, following her out of the room and into the next door down. A tiny space, this one. And bare, except for a steel cupboard. Samuel followed, and as I took a seat on the low table, his brow wrinkled.

“You sure about this?” he said in a low voice, eyes never leaving my face.

Quinn withdrew some kind of thick dressing-gown-like garment and pulled it over her head. It was padded and stiff. Like a shield of some kind.

“Don’t worry, everything will be fine.” Then, she reached into her pocket and plunked a headset on top of her head, adjusting it until she gave a satisfied grunt.

But it was clear that Samuel wasn’t sure everything would be fine.

“Hang on, Mila, we’re going to put you in sleep mode for this one,” she said.

She opened the steel cabinet, plucked a different helmet from inside. This one was solid, thick. After settling it on my head, she connected it via a wire to something inside the cabinet. All of a sudden, I felt something push at my skull, forcing its way in, building intense pressure inside. And then, I felt an intrusion burrowing into my mind.

Sleep.

A snapshot of the room appeared before me. Then, all of a sudden, it was like I’d drifted off to a different level of consciousness. I could see the room, see Quinn and Samuel, but couldn’t comprehend anything. It was like I was just there, in a dormant state. A hibernating bear, waiting for the first signs of spring to erupt so I could erupt as well.

R
eboot.

I came to on the couch in Quinn’s lounge. As awareness returned, I noticed that something seemed off with my body. I felt heavier, somehow. Weighted. And in the back of my mind lurked a foreign presence. Hidden, but seething with untapped power.

That should have worried me, but . . . nothing. No pinch, no twist of anxiety. Everything felt smooth, serene. I pushed myself into a sitting position and rose to my feet. Movement, coordination—my body appeared to be working just fine.

Walking around the room, I cataloged everything. All was as it had been before, except for one thing: the photo of Quinn and Holland was missing.

Heat flared in my gut, and my hands clenched. No anxiety, but apparently rage was still in my emotional repertoire.
Holland.

A click sounded. I looked up, in time to watch the door open and watch Hunter walk in.

My body tensed for the pain, for the choking, stabbing sensation of loving someone you couldn’t ever have. I braced myself against the sweep of joy that always rushed me at the sight of him.

Instead, I felt empty. Serene. Looking at him was like looking at a stranger.

I looked at Hunter’s face, and I felt . . . nothing.

Not even relief.

“Quinn told me you underwent some kind of serious procedure. Are you okay?”

He crossed the room to stand before me, and then, after a hesitation, he muttered “screw it” and pulled me into a tight, one-armed hug.

I felt the weight of his arms, the pressure of his chest against mine. I could smell his scent of soap and sandalwood, and his breath, stirring my hair. I experienced all of those sensations and yet, deep inside me, there was no tug at my heart. No jab. There was just a pleasant emptiness. A true void.

I didn’t lift my arms up to return the embrace. Why bother?

I just waited for him to finish.

Finally, he dropped his hands and stepped back, frowning. He narrowed his eyes, and I noticed their color. Light blue with a hint of gray, I thought clinically. Rarer than the majority of eye colors, but nothing unusual.

I remembered how staring into his eyes had once filled me with a sweet pleasure, but I couldn’t recall the actual sensation of it. And while I understood the word
pleasure
, I didn’t
feel
it. It seemed odd. Why would staring into eyes bring about any reaction other than noting pigmentation and percentages?

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his gaze sweeping over me.

I shook my head. “Nothing.” For once, it was finally true.

He studied me intently, as if searching my face for a sign. His feet scuffed the floor. He seemed agitated.

Odd.

“Are you mad because of my mom and stepdad? I swear, I had no idea about their real lives.” His shoulders slumped. “Look, you have every right to hate me. You were right. I mean, I might not have been part of that group, but my parents . . . at first, they wouldn’t tell me a thing, but I finally got some information out of them. They’d set everything up from the start. You were the reason we moved to Clearwater. When I told Peyton about spotting you at the Dairy Queen, he knew who I was talking about because they were there to try to get you back. But then they decided that it would be better to let me get close to you. To study you. They didn’t know why your mom had stolen you. So, technically I was spying for them. Even though I didn’t know it. And I’m sorry. I’m so incredibly sorry.”

He reached out to touch my arm, and I let him. His fingers on my skin were cool. Light. They evoked nothing but a sensation of mild pressure.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. My voice sounded even, empty. Almost robotic in tone, and yet it was a girl’s voice, not the grating digitized sound I heard right after I got zapped.

“Is . . . is something wrong?” he asked, moving nearer.

I thought about it objectively, then shrugged. “No. Not that I’m aware of.”

He dropped his hand to drum his fingers against his thigh. A nervous tic, I remembered. I made him nervous. Peculiar.

“Look, I know I reacted poorly to your news in the garage, and I’m sorry. But you have to understand what a shock that was for me. Sure, I knew you were different, but how could I ever possibly guess that you . . .” He trailed off, so I helped him by filling in.

“Were an android?”

“Exactly.”

I shrugged again, unfazed. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

He cursed under his breath. “It does matter,” he said, his eyes searing into mine. “Just because you’re not what I expected doesn’t mean all of my feelings just turned off. I was mad before, hurt that you lied, and yes, a little scared by everything, but I’ve had time to calm down. And what I realize is that . . . I still care about you, Mila. I’m not going to lie and say I know what that means, but I thought you should know.”

He stood there, seeming to be waiting for me to respond. Something pinged at the back of my head, like I should have reacted to his speech. Felt . . . something other than mild uninterest.

He took a deep breath, then cradled my face between his hands. “We were going to run away together, remember?”

I remembered, but what I couldn’t recall was why I’d ever thought that was a good idea. Me, running away with a human boy, to do . . . what, exactly? Ludicrous.

My heart remained gratifyingly steady.

“I’m afraid that plan is no longer going to work. It’s extremely illogical.”

Surprise widened his eyes, before his hands fells away. “What did they do to you?” he asked.

“Quinn upgraded me,” I said simply.

His gaze skimmed my body, like maybe he could see them externally. “What kind of upgrades?”

My programming told me to smile, so I did. “She removed my troublesome emotions, so I could be more efficient.”

“She . . .” He trailed off, nostrils flaring. “You’re joking, right? This is all some kind of practical joke.”

“No,” I said. “I don’t find jokes amusing anymore.”

Finally, whatever he saw, or didn’t see, in my eyes must have convinced him, because he started shaking his head. “No. No, no, no.” I watched him clinically as he expressed agitation by fisting his hands and pacing.

“How could you let her do that? You were fine—no, great—just the way you were!”

I blinked. “Your recollection of the past is faulty. You didn’t like me once you discovered I was an android,” I pointed out, to be helpful.

“I was wrong. And you’re wrong, too. I’ll prove it.”

Then he crossed the distance between us, and his lips landed on mine with a fierce intensity. I allowed the kiss. I felt the sweep of his tongue, the heat of his mouth. The warmth of his skin against mine. Where before my body had wanted to curl and expand, where I had been aware of sensations throughout my body, now I felt—

—a memory triggered, of the first time Hunter kissed me. Something beat its wings inside that tiny block of my brain. Inside my chest, I felt my heart try to accelerate, buck against the tethers that held it steady. Pushing, harder and harder. The restraints tightened, and the rhythm subsided back to normal.

I left the sliver of sorrow behind. Painful feelings were unnecessary complications, and Quinn was right.

I felt nothing, and I was better off that way. To be fair, the warmth of his skin probably would be nice, had I been cold. But since cold didn’t really affect me . . .

I was just stepping back to disentangle myself from his embrace when I heard the familiar drawl.

His
drawl.

“What we are doing here today—”

I shoved Hunter aside and twisted around to face the monitors. Holland’s broad, wrinkled face was reflected in each one as he explained the MILA project. The previous void inside me was now filled with a rush of hot, bitter concoction, desperate to erupt.

My hands fisted as I imagined his throat beneath them.

“Bastard!” I growled through clenched teeth.

My anger was palpable, liberating. At the moment, I had one purpose, and one purpose only.

I was going to destroy him.

“Excellent,” Quinn announced.

I spun around to see her standing in the doorway, looking victorious. She smiled. “You passed my little test. The unnecessary emotions are gone, but rage remains.”

“What did you do to her?” Hunter asked.

“I made her into what we needed her to be—a more efficient weapon.”

Hunter sucked in an audible breath, and his focus switched to me. “You . . . no. You can’t . . . that’s wrong! What about Mila?”

Quinn came over to drape a hand on my shoulder. “What about Mila? Don’t you think she’s better off now? What did she really have to care about, Hunter? You? A boy who abandoned her when he found out the truth? A dead mother, who’s not even her true flesh and blood, not really? A father who can’t stand the sight of her? I did her a favor.”

“Don’t pretend you did any of this to help her,” he spat out, and she laughed.

“Okay, fine. Have it your way. I did it because we need her like this. We need to make Holland pay, and the upheaval that’s going to cause will give us the perfect opportunity to steal more technology from SMART Ops. Ultimately, sacrificing Mila’s emotions is just a tiny price to pay.”

“It’s not your choice to make!”

“Ah, but you see? I didn’t make the choice. Mila did. She had to, or else the enhancements might not have worked. Her brain is too complex to adjust emotionally if she’d been fighting it.”

Quinn squeezed my shoulder, then barked an order to someone out in the hall. “Teek, come take Hunter away now. Make sure they’re all situated for the final test.”

Teek came inside, brandishing a gun. Hunter, his eyes on me, slowly raised his hands in the air. “Don’t let them do this to you, Mila. Please.” His voice was incredibly soft. Pleading.

The sight of the gun aimed at his head made something in mine twinge in an unpleasant way. A different gun, a different person. Mom. The pain bucked harder against the restraints this time, and for an instant, I felt a pang. It was gone so fast, I wondered if I’d imagined it. Something about its absence seemed wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. The numbness flooded me again, and I succumbed to its seductive embrace.

Teek motioned with the gun and Hunter exited the room.

What a silly comment
was my thought as he walked away. Clearly the procedure had already been performed.

“Where’s Daniel?”

She watched me carefully. “Daniel is here, but he’s . . . incapacitated at the moment. We need him to run the final test, to ensure your emotional upgrades are working perfectly.”

“You lied?” I said. A tiny spark flared, but it died quickly. The truth was, I didn’t really care about Daniel, so her lying about him didn’t impact me one way or the other.

“For your own good,” she said. “To make sure we could better reach our ultimate goal.” She nodded at the monitors, where Holland’s face was frozen, front and center.

The familiar rage filled me, and I nodded curtly. That was acceptable.

We waited for Teek to radio and let us know they were ready. He did a few minutes later, so I followed Quinn to a doorway that led to a room I’d yet to investigate.

At first, all I saw was an empty room. But as we passed through the narrow entrance, the space widened and revealed what was inside.

Or rather, I was inside.

Surprise slammed my chest, catching me off guard, but subdued quickly as it hit the boundaries of my chip. On the far left side sat four chairs, positioned neatly in a row. And in those chairs were four people. Not just Daniel, as I’d expected, but Sophia and Peyton.

And Hunter.

None of them uttered a word at my appearance, and for good reason. All four of them were gagged, their wrists and ankles bound with thin but sturdy-looking twine.

Perplexed, I frowned at Quinn. “What’s this all about?”

Quinn waited for the door to close behind us before strolling casually over to a barren counter. On top rested one metal box. The clasps snapped when she opened it, and the next moment, she withdrew a gun. All traces of amusement had faded from her face, and for the first time in a while, her expression tightened into serious lines.

After staring at the gun for several long beats, she walked back over to stand before me. “This is the final test, Mila. We need to know that the chip works, under all conditions. As it turns out, all of these people know too much, and we need to restrict our liabilities. So it’s a win-win situation.”

A win-win situation? “I’m sorry, I’m still not following.”

With the utmost care, she placed the gun in my palm, gently pressing on my fingers until they curled around it. “It’s simple, really. You’ll see soon enough. Teek, can we get the live feed going?”

Teek sat behind a work desk, his fingers flying away. “Three, two, one . . . we’re live.”

Quinn looked up at the monitor on the far wall. The picture burst to life, showing me with the gun, Quinn, and the four prisoners.

Teek must have activated the video camera. But I still didn’t know why.

“Now, can you pull Holland up, on the other monitor?”

“Almost there . . . here we go!”

The monitor to the left flickered, and then suddenly, Holland’s face appeared.

He scratched his head and scowled into the screen. “I can’t see anything. What’s going on, Quinn?”

The fire kindled in my core. Not a video this time. Live feed.

Live.

A snarl rose in my throat, vicious and fierce.

“Can you hear me?” Quinn asked.

Holland frowned. “I can hear you, but I can’t see a damn thing. I don’t know why the hell we had to do this, anyway. Can’t you just use a phone like a normal person?”

“Now?” Teek asked.

Quinn nodded once.

I knew the exact moment Holland saw me, because he half-rose, his square jaw going slack. “
Son of a bitch
,” he mouthed. “You found her! How did you—wait, tell me that later. Why the hell isn’t she locked down? Get her restrained, and I’ll—”

“You’ll sit your ass back in your chair and listen to something besides your own voice for a change,” Quinn said.