“Like Sasha?” Harrison asks.
“No,” Merc and I say at the same time.
“Not like her,” I say. “Her mother took the other choice. Which is self-sacrifice. Her mother died minutes after she gave birth so that Sasha could be free—like Harper. So she could grow up to be someone’s promise.”
Merc’s voice goes low. “Married off to another elite. Most of the time a very old man who wants one more chance at a boy.”
“What the fuck?” Harrison says. “Why do the mothers have to die? I don’t get it.”
“So they can harvest them,” I say.
“For what? Hearts and shit?”
“Whatever is needed. Skin. Eyes. Organs. Fucking toes. All of it. But more importantly, they have to die so they can keep the masses in check with fear. The Company controls people with fear.”
Merc sighs. “And it works.”
“Like a fucking charm,” I agree.
Harrison makes a face. “That’s sick.”
Whatever. “This is the world we live in, Harrison.”
“The world you live in. Not me.”
“Newsflash, buddy. We run the world you live in. We let you exist here. But make no mistake. I don’t care how many jets you own, you step one inch over that line, Harrison, they will kill you without even blinking.”
“This Adam guy, you mean?”
“No, Merc. Fuck’s sake, man. Aren’t you listening to me? Not Adam. He’s cleaning up, remember?”
“Then who are you talking about?” Merc is annoyed. And I don’t blame him. If he was selling me this line of shit, I’d be annoyed too.
But I don’t answer him right away. I have to be really careful what I say here. Everything depends on how I handle the next couple minutes. One wrong move and everything goes sideways.
Merc gets impatient. “Who? Tell me now.”
“Well, this answer is gonna complicate things a bit.”
“Why’s that?” Harrison asks.
“Because.” I look straight at Merc. “That guy—Donovan? Rather, his dominant personality, Carter?”
“Oh, fuck this.” Merc’s not dumb. He doesn’t need this shit spelled out for him. “Fuck this. I’m not doing it.” He grabs Harrison’s arm and tugs him towards the door. “Let’s go home.”
“Listen,” I say loudly. Merc and Harrison both pause in front of the door. But neither of them looks back at me. “You can walk out. That’s fine. But Donovan is worth saving. He is, Merc.”
Merc looks over his shoulder at me. “Why’s that?”
“Because he’s…” I pause, having trouble forcing the words out.
“He’s what?” Merc does turn now. “Spit it out, Nick. Or I’m leaving.”
I put up my hand in surrender. “OK. But do not kill the messenger.”
He sucks in a breath and his eyes narrow down. “Tell me.”
“Carter Couture, he’s the father.”
“The father of who?”
“Come on, Merc. Who do you think?” He knows what I’m saying, he just doesn’t want to believe it. Cognitive dissonance, man. It fucks with you hard. “Daphne,” I say. “Avery. Lily.”
I expect an outburst from Merc, but he goes pale and silent. Then, a couple seconds later, his one-word response is a whisper. “What?”
“You heard me. Turns out Carter Couture kind of… kinda made himself… I mean, what’s the right word for it? Patriarch? He bred them, Merc. All those upper-class Company women. He took that whole ‘spread your seed’ thing literally. He’s got about…” I pause to mentally calculate how many kids are in his bloodline now. “Maybe… fifty or sixty little Zero kids running around out there right now. And by Zero kids, I don’t mean girls. He never culled the boys, either, Merc. They’re out there too.”
“This is who Adam’s cleaning up?”
“Yeah… no. Me, actually. I’m the one cleaning up that fucking mess. Adam doesn’t even know about it yet. He’s still mucking about with the small-town bankers. This is what I’ve been doing since Sasha killed Santos. This is what I’ve been up to, friend. Sasha gets to live, Lauren gets to live, and I get to clean up the fucking mess. That was the deal. So you can hate me all you want, I’m just doing the best I can.”
“OK. Hold on.” Harrison is back in action. I knew he would be. “Who cares?” He looks up at Merc, grabs him by the shirt, tugs. “Who gives a fuck? Let that asshole die, right?”
“Just let him die,” I agree. “That’s an option.” Merc drags his gaze away from Harrison and looks at me, real fear in his eyes now, because he knows I’m holding something back. I wouldn’t be telling him this if there wasn’t a catch. And there is. There is always a catch. Always a worser-case scenario peeking around the corner in the life of a Company man. “You can let him die, but your girls were part of the program, Merc. You know that.”
He shakes his head. “They’re just fine.” And these words come out confident and with authority. “They’re better than fine. They’re great. Well-adjusted girls. There has been—”