Page 17 of Eden and her Mercenary (Changing of the Guards)

"What I want," I said softly, "is for Eden to wake up. Can you give me that?"

"The doctors—my son-in-law is treating her. He's the best trauma surgeon in the province." Desperation edged his voice. "I can ensure she receives the finest care."

"Save your breath. Thankfully your son-in-law’s morals are better than yours. If it wasn’t for him, she’d already be buried in the ground. And so would you. ”

"It was a business decision," he said, as if that explained everything. "The neural integration program represents billions in contracts. We couldn't risk exposure."

"And now you've exposed yourself to me." I lowered the gun slightly. "Tell me about the human testing."

Hope flickered in his eyes—the mistaken belief that he might talk his way out of this. "It's not what you think. The subjects are all volunteers."

"Political prisoners are not volunteers."

"They're given a choice—participate in the program or remain in their circumstances. Many choose the opportunity."

"To become remote-controlled weapons," I said flatly.

He flinched. "The technology has numerous applications beyond military use. Medical breakthroughs, treatment for paralysis, neural repair—"

"Save it for your shareholders." I raised the gun again. "How many?"

"I don't understand—"

"How many human subjects have you tested on?"

Whitmore's mouth worked silently for a moment. "Seventeen," he finally whispered .

"How many survived?"

The silence stretched between us, broken only by the gentle lapping of water against the dock.

"Three," he admitted.

I felt something cold settle in my chest. Fourteen people had died for his "business decision." Fourteen human beings, reduced to test subjects for his profit margins.

"The survivors," I pressed. "What happened to them?"

"They... the integration was successful. They're assets now."

"Assets." I repeated the word like a curse. "You mean slaves."

"They're compensated—"

"They're controlled by remote devices implanted in their brains," I cut him off. "Just like you tried to do to Stella."

"The dog was different. The canine program was meant to be... more humane."

I almost laughed. "Humane. You tortured a rescue dog, turned her into a weapon, then sent mercenaries to hunt her down when she escaped."

"She represented years of research—"

The gun was at his temple before he could finish the sentence. "She has a name. Stella. And she's not property."

Whitmore's breathing became rapid, shallow. "Please. I have a daughter, grandchildren—"

"Did the prisoners you experimented on have families?" I asked softly. "Did you think about their children when you drilled holes in their skulls?"

"It wasn't like that—"

"What was it like?" I demanded. "Explain to me how turning human beings into remote-controlled weapons isn't exactly what it sounds like."

He was crying now, tears mixing with lake water still dripping from his hair. "The government contracts... the pressure... we needed results."

"So you decided other people's lives were expendable."

"I never meant for anyone to get hurt—"

"But they did. Fourteen people died. Eden nearly died. And you're still making excuses."

I stepped back, lowering the gun slightly. Whitmore sagged with relief, mistaking my movement for mercy.

"Here's what's going to happen," I said quietly. "You're going to call off all pursuit of Eden Wade, Stella, and anyone associated with them. You're going to destroy all research related to Project Cerberus. And you're going to turn yourself in to the authorities."

"I can't—the contracts alone—"

"Or," I continued as if he hadn't spoken, "I can kill you right here and let your son-in-law explain to your daughter why her father won't be coming home."

"You wouldn't—"

I raised the gun again. "Eden is fighting for her life because of you. Stella spent months being tortured because of you. Fourteen people died because of you. What exactly do you think I wouldn't do?"

The fight went out of him completely. His shoulders slumped, and he aged a decade in the space of a heartbeat.

"If I do what you ask," he said quietly, "they'll kill me anyway. The people I work for don't tolerate exposure."

"Then you should have thought of that before you started experimenting on prisoners."

"My family—"

"Will be safer with you in prison than with you dead." I checked my watch. "You have twenty-four hours to make the calls. After that, the choice is taken away from you."

"How do I know you'll keep your word?"

"You don't." I backed toward the edge of the dock where Ryker waited in the boat. "But it's the only chance you've got."

I slipped into the boat without another word, leaving Whitmore standing alone on his dock, wrapped in nothing but a towel and the weight of his choices.

"Clean?" Ryker asked as we glided silently away from shore.

"For now." I kept my eyes on Whitmore's figure, growing smaller in the distance. "He has twenty-four hours to do the right thing."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then we do this the hard way."

We made it back to the safe house without incident. I cleaned and stored the weapons while Ryker monitored police scanners and communication channels. No alarms, no emergency calls, no indication that our visit had been detected.

"Think he'll actually turn himself in?" Ryker asked.

"No." I holstered my sidearm. "But he'll make some calls, try to buy himself time or protection. That's when we'll know who else is involved."

My phone buzzed with a text from Wren: "Eden's vitals improving. Doctor says she might wake up tomorrow."

Relief flooded through me, so intense, it left me momentarily lightheaded. She was going to make it. Whatever else happened, Eden was going to survive.

"Good news?" Ryker asked, noting my expression.

"The best." I headed for the door. "I need to get back to the hospital."

"Royal." Ryker's voice stopped me. "What you did tonight—giving him a choice instead of just ending it—Eden would approve."

I considered this. "Maybe. But if he doesn't follow through, if he puts her in danger again..."

"Then we finish what we started," Ryker agreed. "But for now, you gave him the chance to do the right thing. That's more mercy than he deserves."

I drove back to the hospital through empty streets, my mind already shifting from the cold calculations of violence to the warm hope of Eden's recovery. The duality didn't bother me anymore—I'd learned to be both protector and avenger, depending on what the situation required.

At the hospital, I found Wren dozing in the chair beside Eden's bed. She stirred as I entered, giving me a questioning look.

"Handled," I said simply.

She nodded, gathering her things. "Her breathing improved this afternoon. The doctor thinks they might be able to remove the ventilator tomorrow."

After Wren left, I settled back into my vigil. Eden looked better — color returning to her cheeks, her breathing more natural despite the mechanical assistance. I took her hand, relieved to find it warmer than before.

"I'm back," I whispered. "And I took care of the man who hurt you. He won't be a problem anymore."

Her fingers twitched almost imperceptibly in mine. Progress.

"Stella's waiting for you," I continued. "She knows something's wrong, keeps looking for you. Wren says she's been sleeping on one of your shirts."

This time I was sure—her fingers squeezed mine, just barely, but definitely intentional.

"Eden?" I leaned closer. "Can you hear me?"

Her eyelids fluttered, then slowly opened. Confused, unfocused, but aware. The most beautiful sight I'd ever seen.

"Hey," I said softly, barely able to speak around the lump in my throat. "Welcome back."

She tried to speak but couldn't around the ventilator tube. Her eyes found mine, wide with questions and fear.

"You're safe," I assured her quickly. "You were shot, but you're going to be fine. The tube is helping you breathe—they'll remove it soon."

She squeezed my hand again, stronger this time .

"Stella's safe too," I added, knowing that would be her first concern. "She's with Wren, waiting for you to come home."

Tears gathered in her eyes—relief, pain, gratitude, all mixed together.

"I love you," I said, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "And I'm never letting anyone hurt you again."

She couldn't speak, but her eyes said everything I needed to hear.