The Girl Who Wasn't (24 page)

Killed. In a carjacking? I
try to piece it together but nothing makes sense.
My role is a lie.
Which
part had she meant? The fact that she’s supposed to be dead? How is
she still free? Attending parties? Free of the device that I’d give
my right arm to lose?

“
Raven?”

“
Yes, I knew her,” I say
distractedly.

I replay the conversation in the
restroom. She is working with Melanie. There is no other
explanation. But why? And how is she alive when her Authentic is
dead? She should be terminated.

“
What’s the matter? Did she
mean something to you?” Linc asks. He walks toward me slowly,
obviously concerned by whatever he sees in my expression. I
struggle to smooth it over.

I need to think. I need to understand.
I contemplate calling Daniel and confronting him. But I know that
would be foolish. Maybe it’s time to talk to Gus.

“
Raven, talk to me,” Linc
says. His frustration is mounting. I can hear it in his voice. His
hands grasp my shoulders and he shakes me gently. It snaps me out
of my thoughts.

“
I’m sorry, I just—yes, she
means something to me. It’s a shock.”

“
It’s more than that. What
are you thinking? What does that girl have to do with all this?” He
gestures to the empty room but we both know he means the big
picture. Me. This place. Rogen Tower.

Here is my moment. I should tell him
about Daniel. About Titus. What I am. For the first time, I want
him to know everything. But Rogen Tower has too many ears to say
anything in this room. I look away.

“
You still don’t trust me,”
he says quietly.

“
It’s not that.
I—”

His hands drop from my shoulders. They
hang limply at his sides in a gesture of defeat. “Dinner’s ready.”
He stalks out, leaving me trailing behind him in a silence threaded
with half-truths and fear.

***

There are two people already seated at
the dining table when I arrive. One is Titus. The other is
Daniel.

My heart seizes and I have to force air
into and out of my lungs. For once, I welcome my role as Authentic
Raven. It allows me to shove the fear aside and smile as if nothing
else matters but pleasing these men.

“
Good evening, Raven,” Titus
says as I take my seat.

I nod at them both. “Good evening,
Father. Daniel.”

“
You look beautiful, as
always,” Daniel says, his eyes roaming over me in a way that means
more than just appreciating my appearance. I wonder if he’s looking
for damage—evidence of my run-in with Melanie. When it’s obvious
there is none, he turns his attention back to Titus.

The meal is served. Conversation flows
and topics are brought forth and overturned at a rate faster than
my mind can keep up. I force aside everything but the automatic
motion of feeding myself and nodding at the appropriate
places.

I don’t allow myself to think past this
moment and whatever Authentic Raven would say. I eat. I smile. I
answer flippantly when they ask a question. The entire time I am in
awed disgust that I am capable. Even Titus looks
pleased.

When the meal ends, Titus leaves us
alone—something about a speech to write for some benefit for
orphans who will never see a dime of the charity money given—and I
am swept away to the small parlor that I have come to think of as
Daniel’s room. I have not been in there since the first time we
were alone together. Did he know what I was then? The thought of
being in there with him now has me swallowing back a brick-sized
lump. I can sense one of the security team shadowing us. Another
no-name.

Linc wasn’t at dinner. I thought I saw
him halfway through the appetizers, but it was only a flash of a
face before he disappeared back into the kitchen. I have no doubt
he’s still angry with me.

I stand awkwardly beside the small
couch. Daniel goes directly to it and sinks down, either ignoring
my hesitation or oblivious to it. “Sit,” he says with a smile that
doesn’t reach past his lips. It makes me nervous, that smile. I
don’t trust it. But I sit.

He leans closer and brushes his hand
along my hairline. I am a statue as his fingertips trace a trail
down to my shoulder. My face heats under his touch—anger, boiling
hot, bubbles to the surface.

“
How’s your father?” I ask,
just centimeters from our lips meeting.

He sits back abruptly and the frown
that deepens the lines around his mouth is every bit as potent as
the smile he wore just seconds ago. “He’s well. Why do you
ask?”

“
He hasn’t seemed like
himself lately.”

“
I wasn’t aware you’d spent
time with him lately,” he says. His tone is a warning.

I am on dangerous ground and I know it,
but I can’t stop the words now. I am in too far. Backpedaling would
be fatal. So I forge ahead—with no real plan except to survive the
encounter.

“
I haven’t. Not really. I’m
just concerned. I know how much he means to you.”

“
Yes. He’s all I have
now.”

“
Your mother …?” I stop
myself before I can fully ask the question. I remember Linc and the
pictures he showed me that first day. There was a smiling woman
with an arm around Daniel. I remember Linc telling me she died last
year. I don’t know how.

“
Well. She’s gone, isn’t
she?” There is a dull pain in his eyes as he says it, but it is
fleeting. I wonder if he ever felt the loss of his mother or if
he’s found a way to turn it off. Anger doesn’t seem like the most
logical emotion to me, but then I have nothing to compare it to.
I’ve never had a mother.

I don’t feel sorry for him, exactly,
but at least he’s stopped trying to kiss me. “Do you want to talk
about what happened?” I ask.

“
What’s to talk about?” he
shoots back. “The cancer took her faster than we could fight it.
Faster than we could grow a cure.”

I nod like I understand but cancer is a
foreign concept to me. No Imitation has ever had anything so
deadly. “If that’s the case, there’s nothing anyone could’ve done.
Including you.”

“
Least of all me,” he
agrees. “But they could’ve worked faster. Expedited the
growth.”

I open my mouth to murmur
reassurances but the words don’t make it out. Something he said has
my attention. “What do you mean the
growth
?” I ask.

His expression clears, his shoulders
deliberately relaxing as he studies me. “Nothing, kitten, just me
ranting, as usual.” He pats my knee like one would a small child
who doesn’t understand a simple concept. “Don’t pay me any mind. Do
you want some tea? I can ring the maid.”

“
No, thank you. I think I’m
going to call it a night,” I say, rising. I’m not sure what to make
of the turn in our conversation but I want to sit and process it
alone. There is something there, something important—I just don’t
know what.

“
Call it a night? But we
haven’t even started yet.” And just like that, the smile is back
and he is leaning in again.

“
I have no intention
of
starting
tonight. I am here for you about your mother but—”

“
Do not pretend to
understand about my mother. You couldn’t possibly understand
anything so complex.”

I rise and make a show of smoothing my
dress. “I don’t like your tone. I’m saying good night.”

I have taken two steps when his hand
grabs mine and he spins me around. “You will say good night when I
tell you.”

“
You don’t get to order me
around like you own me,” I say, packing so much venom in those
words my gut aches.

“
No, of course not. Titus
owns you.” He pauses to reach around and grab my ass. Using his
grip as leverage, he pushes me into his chest. He flashes a
lip-curling smile. “I just get to play with you.”

I slap him. He winces and when he looks
back at me, his pupils are dilated, his mouth set.

The door opens and I realize the sound
of my hitting him must’ve been loud enough to alert the sentry in
the hall. He steps into the room and watches us curiously. He
doesn’t move toward us and I can see him trying to assess the
situation, to determine the threat.

“
Leave us,” Daniel snaps at
him.

The guard hesitates.

“
I said, leave
us!”

The man shuffles out and the door
clicks shut behind him. Something that feels an awful lot like hope
drains out of me. I feel empty.

“
That was a mistake,” Daniel
says in a low voice. He takes a step toward me. I take one
back.

“
The mistake is yours,” I
say, “to think I would just roll over and give up so
easily.”

“
Easy or hard, it will
happen.”

“
Why? I’ve done nothing to
you.”

“
Don’t flatter yourself.
This isn’t about you.”

“
Her, then. The
redhead.”

Daniel registers surprise
but it doesn’t last. “I’ve underestimated you,
product
.”

I ignore the sting left by his words
and press on, determined to return the focus where it belongs. “I
saw the two of you kissing. Is this for her?”

“
Melanie?” He waves a hand.
“Please. She is not important.” He laughs and it sounds like a
short bark. I know then that he does not love Melanie. That he is
using her just like he’s trying to use me. But there is
another.

“
Not Melanie, then.
Raven.”

In an instant, his expression is deadly
serious. I’ve hit a nerve. “I should’ve known the moment he
switched her for you.”

“
You hurt me. When you
thought I was her,” I say. “And you pretend you care for
her?”

“
I would never hurt Raven.
Her own father, on the other hand, would ship her off while he
waits around for her product to bite it just so he can neutralize a
threat to his precious company. His products are all that matter to
him. Ironic if you think about it, considering how choosy he is
with which ones he decides to grow.

“
Wouldn’t it be a shame if
slowly, one by one, all of his precious creations were taken from
him? Siphoned away until there was nothing left in his underground
empire but test tubes and his own obsession with imitating
life.”

I know then that everything I suspected
is true. Daniel is the one stealing away Imitations. And Melanie is
helping him do it. Did Raven know that? Did it get her in trouble?
“Killing me won’t accomplish any of the things you’re talking
about,” I say.

He blinks. “I’m—I’m sorry, Ven. He
deserves everything that happens next.” For a split second, all of
the crazy goes out of his eyes and he’s just a boy. And the sad
acceptance in him makes my heart ache. In that moment, I want to
help. I am willing to hurt for whatever cure we can find him. But
then the acceptance is resignation. And the resignation is cruel
resolve. And the Daniel I know is back.

He takes another step toward me. I take
another one back. “You don’t have to do this.”

With a lingering touch of sadness left
in his voice, he says, “You have no idea what I have to
do.”

My back bumps the bookshelf on the far
wall. I’ve gone as far as I can.

When his hands reach me, I don’t fight
it. In some pre-programmed part of my mind, I am willing to
sacrifice certain things if it means survival. I’m not sure which
things. I hold my breath and pray he doesn’t take it further than
I’m willing to go.

His hands slide down my face roughly,
pulling on my still-tender cheeks, before falling lower. He drags
his palms down my sides from shoulders to hips. When he reaches my
waist, they trail up again, pushing forcefully against my abdomen
and then breasts in a too-rough caress.

He’s close now. Too close. I can smell
the cologne on him that I don’t have a name for but reminds me too
much of the shallow-yet-wealthy that fill the ballrooms at parties.
His expression twists as he leans toward me.

For a panic-filled moment I think he is
going to kiss me, to force himself on me. But then his hands close
over my throat and he squeezes and I am relieved to realize no, he
means only to kill me.

Despite the relief, I fight.

I have to—if not for myself, then for
Anna. Or Lonnie and Ida. Or anyone else’s Imitation Daniel will try
to use after I’m gone in his mission to destroy Titus.

I claw at his wrists, my nails raking
down his flesh, but it’s not enough. His grip doesn’t loosen. If
anything, it only seems to enrage him further. When I realize
there’s no real damage to be done that way, I stop trying to pry
his hands off my neck and reach out for his face. My fingers find
purchase against his cheeks and I dig my nails in as hard as I can
and wrench them sideways. I hear him cry out but he doesn’t let go
of me.

Black spots swim across my vision. I
realize I have only seconds before I pass out.