Page 25 of Marked to Be Mine (Erased #1)

Maeve

The phone seemed to gain weight in my hand, as if the call itself could somehow harm me. I watched Reaper’s chest rise and fall with shallow breaths, the blue-black lines of poison standing in stark relief against his now pale skin.

With trembling fingers, I swiped to accept the call.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Durham.” The voice on the other end was smooth, casual almost—a businessman on a conference call rather than the puppet master of a shadow organization. “I was beginning to worry you might not answer. How disappointing that would have been for everyone involved.”

I said nothing, watching Reaper’s chest rise and fall with each labored breath.

“Nothing to say? That’s surprising for a journalist of your caliber.” The caller’s voice filled the silence between us, cool and controlled. “Perhaps you’re distracted by my operative’s condition.” I reached for Reaper’s hand, as if it would somehow help ground me in this situation.

“I’m Reaper’s handler. You can call me Brock.

” He introduced himself with unsettling politeness, as if we were meeting at a gallery opening instead of across a battlefield.

“I must say, I’ve admired your work. Your tenacity in digging up information about our little organization is quite impressive.

It’s an honor to speak with Xavier Hale’s sister—or should I say, Blackout’s sister?

Such a touching family reunion this could be. ”

The mention of Xavier’s codename sent my heart racing, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing it in my voice.

“What do you want?” I asked flatly.

A soft chuckle. “Straight to business. I appreciate that.” His tone hardened. “I want my asset back. Now.”

“Your asset?” I glanced at Reaper, the blue-black lines spreading across his skin. “He’s dying. You poisoned him. The blue lines have reached his jaw. He needs an antidote.”

There was a pause before he spoke again. “Fascinating. The compound is progressing faster than anticipated.”

The detachment in his voice made my stomach turn. This man had shaped Reaper, broken him apart, and rebuilt him into a weapon. And now he was observing his deterioration like a scientist watching bacteria in a petri dish.

“You know he took that bullet for me,” I said.

“A regrettable deviation from protocol,” Brock replied. “Though scientifically valuable. His conditioning should have prevented such… heroics.”

Brock continued, “It would be a real pleasure to accompany Reaper personally. I think we’re overdue for a little chat—all three of us.” The thinly veiled threat in his words made my stomach clench. I couldn’t force myself to say a single word.

“I need to observe him immediately,” Brock continued, all business now. His tone shifted to something colder, more detached. “Bring him to me within two hours. I’ll text you the coordinates.” Not a request—a command from someone used to absolute compliance.

“And if I refuse?” I kept my voice steady despite the fear crawling up my spine. I’d spent months searching for my brother; I wasn’t about to hand Reaper over to the man who’d broken him.

“Ms. Durham.” His voice dropped lower, any pretense of civility evaporating. “You misunderstand the situation. This isn’t a negotiation. Reaper is proprietary biotechnology. You wouldn’t steal a prototype from a defense contractor and expect no consequences, would you?”

“He’s a human being,” I said.

“A distinction without a difference in this context.” The coldness in his voice sent a chill down my spine.

I gripped the phone tighter, watching Reaper shiver on the bed.

“I’m not bringing him anywhere until you tell me about the antidote,” I demanded, desperation edging into my voice. “How do I know you’ll save him? How do I know you even can?”

A brief silence stretched across the line before Brock replied. The polished veneer in his voice dropped away, replaced by something colder, more clinical .

“Antidote?” Brock’s laugh was hollow. “There is no antidote, Ms. Durham. This compound wasn’t meant for him.”

My breath caught. “What?”

“It was designed to begin your conditioning process.”

It felt as if all air had suddenly been sucked right out of my lungs. I stared at Reaper’s convulsing form, horror crawling through me as understanding dawned.

“Conditioning?” My voice shook despite my efforts to control it. “You mean like what you did to Reaper? To my brother?”

“Exactly.” Brock’s voice brightened, like a professor finally seeing comprehension dawn on a struggling student. “The first stage of neural preparation for acquisition. His system is not engineered to metabolize it correctly.”

I gripped the edge of the mattress, suddenly dizzy. They’d shot him with chemicals meant for me—meant to strip me down and rebuild me into something else. Something that wasn’t human anymore.

“Your ability to interrupt Reaper’s programming made you a fascinating candidate. Our research team is impatient to start. The first female Marionette would be quite the achievement. You should be proud.”

I fought the wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm me. These people had planned to do to me what they’d done to Xavier, to Reaper—strip away my identity, my memories, my humanity.

“As for the compound’s impact on Reaper’s enhanced system,” Brock continued. “I have no idea what it’s doing. His programming is likely interacting with the compound in unpredictable ways. That’s why I need him back immediately—to observe and document these effects. And you, of course.”

I watched a bead of sweat track down Reaper’s temple. His eyes darted beneath closed lids, trapped in some nightmare. My mouth opened, then closed again. I couldn’t find any words for Brock at this moment.

“Bring Reaper back to me,” Brock urged. “His reaction is unprecedented data. If he survives, he’ll be an invaluable research subject for cross-compound interactions. You’ve created an accident of significant scientific interest, Ms. Durham.”

The casual cruelty of his words stoked a rage I hadn’t known I possessed.

This man viewed Reaper—viewed all of them—as nothing more than lab rats.

There was no way of knowing what he would do to Reaper once he got his hands on him.

Actually, perhaps there was. He was going to ruin him, torture him, shatter him into pieces all over again.

Right now, death seemed like a more merciful outcome.

If it came to that, he’d die in my arms. Peacefully. Like a man who was cared for. A human with value. Not a piece of property.

“Go fuck yourself,” I spat. “I’m not bringing him anywhere near you.”

“Such fire.” His voice dropped to a purr.

“I see why he’s developed this… aberration toward you.

The Prima conditioning should have prevented any attachment, and yet…

The more we speak, the more fascinating I find his litt le…

infatuation with you.” Brock’s voice dropped, became intimate in a way that made my skin crawl.

“You may even become our new teacher’s pet, Ms. Durham.

” I recoiled from the phone, disgusted by the implication.

Reaper moaned softly on the bed, his fingers twitching.

Time was running out. “Let’s cut through the chase.

If you don’t arrive within two hours, with Reaper or not, your brother will be terminated. The video will be sent to you.”

My heart stopped. No, no, no. “You’re lying.”

“In case you doubt me…”

My phone buzzed with an incoming video message. With trembling fingers, I opened it.

The footage showed a stark white cell. A man sat on the edge of a metal bed, head down, shoulders slumped.

When he looked up at the camera, I barely recognized him—gaunt, skin sallow, eyes hollow—but it was unmistakably Xavier.

My brother’s face was thinner than I remembered, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, but I’d know those green eyes anywhere.

They’d lost their defiant spark, replaced by something vacant and defeated that made my stomach twist. His head was shaved, too.

It looked as if they had stripped him of anything that once made him… him.

He looked directly into the camera, lips cracked and bleeding.

A disembodied hand appeared in the frame, forcing his chin up.

Xavier flinched at the contact—something I’d never seen him do in all our years growing up together.

This wasn’t the man who’d taught me to fight back, who never cowered even when facing the worst foster parents in the system .

The sight of him flinching from human contact hit me harder than any physical blow. Xavier, who’d once dislocated a foster father’s jaw for raising a hand to me. Xavier, who’d never backed down from anything.

My stomach rose to my throat, threatening to spill its contents. No. This couldn’t be happening.

“As you can see, Ms. Durham, your brother is alive. For now. We’re holding him at a private facility. Quite secluded. No one will hear him scream.”

My fingers tightened around the phone, knuckles white. “If you hurt him...”

“That depends entirely on your cooperation. I suggest you hurry. The address has been sent to your phone.” There was a pause, and I could almost hear his smile. “Oh, and Maeve? Don’t involve the authorities. Xavier won’t survive the wait.”

The line went dead before I could respond, leaving me alone with Reaper’s unconscious form and the knowledge that my time was running out.

I collapsed against the wall, my legs suddenly unable to hold my weight. The phone slipped from my hand, clattering to the floor beside me as my mind reeled from Brock’s revelations.

No antidote. The poison wasn’t meant for Reaper—it was designed for me. For my “conditioning.” And Xavier… oh god, Xavier. After all this time searching, I’d found him only to put him directly in the crosshairs.