“Your dad’s evil,” Sloane murmured pathetically. Dex sat on the edge of Sloane’s desk and slid over. He stopped in front of him and held his arms out. With a pout, Sloane wheeled his chair forward so he could rest his head on Dex’s lap.
“There, there.” Dex petted Sloane’s head, soothing him. “That was quite the outburst. Didn’t know you had it in you. I’m not even sure I know what the last two were.”
“German, I think. I heard Sasha over in Recon go off once when his hard drive got wiped by some rogue virus. I don’t know what it means, but it sounded… appropriate for this moment.” He lifted his head and propped his chin on Dex’s leg. “I have to get it cut, don’t I?”
Dex winced as he ran his fingers through the butchered side of Sloane’s head. “Yeah. There’s really no way to pull this off as trendy.”
“Thanks.” Sloane stood and gave Dex a kiss. “Tell the evil overlord I left early. I’m going to go see Marcus to get this fixed and then head over to Shultzon’s. I’ll call you later. If anything comes up, ring me.”
“Okay. Good luck on both accounts.”
Sloane gave Dex a wink before walking out of the office. On the way to the elevator, he tried to think only about his haircut and not the appointment that would follow. There was no reason to feel nervous. Shultzon had been a huge part of his life once upon a time, but that had changed a long time ago. He could do this. He had to. It was the only way to restore some kind of normality after the disorder his life had been thrown into since revisiting the research facility. At least now he could take comfort the nightmares were only in his head.
Chapter 5
SLOANE WAS forced to see his stylist thanks to the horror inflicted upon his flowing locks by his sergeant. When the man had seen Sloane’s butchered hair, he’d all but shouted bloody murder before praying to some saint in Spanish. At least Marcus had been sympathetic and mourned the loss along with him. A few snips and a quick blow-dry later, and Sloane felt better. He could still run his fingers through his hair, though only on top. The sides of his head were cut short, making the little silver hairs reflect the light like tiny solar panels. At least that’s what it felt like. Marcus had offered to shave his growing beard, but Sloane decided he’d leave it to bug Maddock. At least this time, if his sergeant came at him with a razor, Sloane would see it coming. The man was sneaky, even for a Human. He’d most likely honed his stalking skills over the years through the raising of two mischievous boys.
The locks clicked on the other side of the door, and Sloane braced himself. For fuck’s sake, he wasn’t a kid anymore. Despite being out of uniform, the badge clipped to his belt and the sidearm tucked into the shoulder holster under his jacket reminded him of who, and what, he was now. When the door opened and he was faced with the man who was both his savior and personal bogeyman, remaining unfazed became more difficult than he’d expected.
“Sloane.” Dr. Shultzon greeted him with a broad, warm smile and a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”
Sloane gave him a curt nod. “Sir.”
“Please, come in.” Shultzon stepped aside so Sloane could enter. It felt odd being back here on a personal visit. As Shultzon locked up behind him, Sloane took a quick look around the elegant surroundings, remembering how different it had looked a few months ago when Isaac and his men had ransacked the place before they’d kidnapped the doctor. Now it was immaculate, looking almost comfortable and peaceful. Shultzon motioned for Sloane to enter the living room, and as he did, Sloane took stock of the room, how the bookshelves along the walls were once again filled with books, the lamps were upright, the cream-colored couches and armchairs sat pristinely with their cushions in place, and the wood floors gleamed.
“Nice haircut. Sergeant Maddock’s doing?” Shultzon asked, his smile making creases at the corners of his eyes. He took a seat in one of the armchairs and motioned for Sloane to sit on the couch across from him.
“How’d you know?” Sloane sat slightly forward, his arms on his legs, fingers laced, and his eyes everywhere but on the man before him. Maybe coming here was a mistake. He hadn’t talked to Shultzon in years, and now here he was opening the floodgates to God only knew what.
“Sloane, we’re only going to talk. You don’t need to look so uncomfortable. Sit back, relax. And the answer to your question is that I make it my business to know.”
Sloane sat back and studied Shultzon. “About agents’ haircuts?” The man hadn’t changed at all since Sloane had hugged him good-bye his last day at the facility, right before he’d been blindfolded and deposited on the THIRDS’s doorstep like a baby left on the steps of a church. Shultzon’s hair had a lot more white than it once had, but other than that, he hadn’t changed overly much. He was still tall, kind looking with sharp gray eyes that missed nothing, and a soothing voice that could turn commanding and fierce at the drop of a hat. There was one difference Sloane found comforting. Shultzon no longer had power over him.
“I make it my business to know what goes on at the THIRDS. I may be retired, but I’m still valued there and often consulted. Thank you for coming to see me. I hoped you would.”
“Did you?”
Shultzon nodded. “I’ve followed your progress. I was so proud of you when you made Team Leader. Despite what you may believe, I care about you. You were like the son I never had.”
“Son?” Sloane sat up with a hiss. He’d told himself he wouldn’t get angry, but he should have known better. Shultzon may have saved his life, but that didn’t mean Sloane could forget the price he’d paid. “I still have nightmares. I haven’t been able to stop dreaming about that goddamn place since returning there.”
The smile slipped off Shultzon’s face, his expression turning remorseful. “I’m sorry. I understand your resentment.”
“Do you? I trusted you. And you….” Sloane pressed his lips together, willing himself to calm down. “You tortured me. You tortured Ash. All of us. I endured physical and psychological agony nearly every day.” He wanted to blame his lost childhood on Shultzon, but that wouldn’t be fair. The man hadn’t stolen Sloane’s childhood. Being a Therian, what happened to him, losing his mother…. He never stood a chance at a normal life after that. He felt his anger wavering.
Shultzon leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him. “Sloane, I know you think of it as torture, but it was necessary to run those tests in order to understand you. To understand your limits. I protected you and Ash.”
Shultzon’s sincerity and regretful tone irritated Sloane. “We could have died.”
“I would never have let that happen to either of you.”
“What about the others? Are you telling me no one died strapped to one of those goddamn chairs?” Sloane jumped to his feet and paced. It was the only way he’d maintain his grip. The memories flooded back and slammed into him from every direction. The needles, the drugs, the shocks going through his body. When the world looked at him, they saw nothing but an animal. That’s what they’d called him at the asylum. Then the Therian First Gen research facility had made him feel like one. He loo
ked down at his hands. “I was just a boy.”
“Sloane, it’s because of you that we have Postshift Trauma Care. Therians were dying hours after they shifted back to their Human form, and no one understood why. Most were perfectly healthy. Because of you, we learned how vastly different the Therian metabolic rate was to that of a Human’s. And all you did was say two little words. Do you remember what you said to me?”
Sloane nodded. How could he forget? He’d shifted back to his Human form, and he felt as though he were dying, wasting away to nothingness. It had all been so terrifying. His body had felt brittle, and he feared it would shatter if he so much as breathed. Then he’d looked up at Shultzon and quietly he had said, “I’m hungry.”