D E L P H I N I U M

Arriving at my grandmother's house was like stepping back into a whole different life. I wasn't the powerful, fearless warrior I'd once been. Now I was the same person I'd been when I was first taken from this place by the ONNT. It was almost as if nothing had changed. I'd come full circle and this time, I was even more aware of what I'd lost.

As the sun set behind us, the front gates slowly opened before us, revealing the mansion inside—a place so large it shouldn't only house one woman. I'd used to hate it here when I came back the first time, had despised the beauty and the extravagance and the wealth it oozed. Because it meant nothing. We'd had everything we ever could have wanted and on that night when it was all taken away, it made a gaping hole in my soul. And that hole could not be filled with things like cars and pearls, like my grandmother seemed to think.

This felt eerily similar to the day I'd come back from the ONNT after the first questioning—alone, paranoid, and so devastatingly empty. After everything that had happened between then and now, despite every precaution I'd taken, I was in this place again.

No one spoke as we walked up the perfectly-gardened front yard. They knew how I hated this place. And they weren't sure what to expect once we got inside and confronted my grandmother. I wasn't either.

Feeling as if my limbs were made of lead, I knocked on the door. Once. Twice. I half-wished it would remain closed. I wouldn't have to relive everything I'd lost if I didn't go inside.

But then the door opened and I was shocked to see Vladlena Tesla herself standing in the doorway. That was strange—we'd used to have a butler when I was younger, a man who was close enough to the family that we regarded him as one of our own. But she must have dismissed him after I left for the ONNT. So she truly was alone in this castle of a house.

She hadn't changed—still wearing the an elegant shawl, her hair swept up in a hairstyle that somehow made her seem younger than she was. There were still no smile lines on her face, just the flat, businesslike gaze. Like everyone else was a client of hers that she had to figure out.

"I take it your flight was satisfactory," she said, not one to mince words. She'd sent a private plane to bring us all the way across the country. It had been a throwback to the few times my father had taken us on business trips as children. I'd felt sick with the memory the entire flight.

She swept a jewelry-laden hand behind her to gesture to the rest of the house. "Come in." No warmth, no inviting smile. But still, she'd opened her home to us. And I couldn't figure out why.

As the eight of us filed in, I was hit in the chest with the familiarity of the place. The same airy windows, the same marble floor, the same wide, open rooms filled with too much expensive furniture to count. To my right was a sitting room with a window seat my brother Toby and I would sit at, waiting for my father's car to roll up the driveway after a long day at work. I looked the other way—a glimpse down the hallway we'd run up and down in our socks. I had to look away.

We'd been normal. Painfully normal. And this house was a reminder of what I'd once been in another sense. What I could have had. A family. A home. I wouldn't have to be a warrior, a killer.

As soon as I had that thought, I knew I wasn't sure what I wanted anymore. If I even wanted anything.

In the foyer, my grandmother turned back to us. "I understand you're being followed by government officials. They were already here to assure I wasn't hiding you. But they will not come back again." I wondered if she'd done something to make them stay away. "You may stay as long as you wish—given you leave everything as you found it."

I raised an eyebrow. I expected her to be horribly overbearing, restricting us to certain rooms and keeping watch over us at all times. But...she almost seemed to understand the plight we were in.

"Thank you," Finn found the words to say. She only gave a stiff acknowledging nod in return.

"We will talk later," she said. Her eyes were on me for the first time and I didn't know how to feel. "You all may stay in any bedroom in the west wing. Delphinium will show you."

I couldn't think of what to say to her. There was too much I hadn't said and now was too weak to. So for now, I nodded and beckoned for the others to follow.

I could barely make myself go back up the stairs—the same stairwell I'd fallen down when I was six. The same banister I'd practiced my ballet forms on. I couldn't look at the others as they followed behind me, unaware of how much history was really in this place.

It almost made me wish I could burn this place to the ground and myself with it.

At the top of the curving stairway, I took a sharp left, booted heels thumping against the marble. To the right was the east wing, where the library and our old playroom was located. And my parent's bedroom. I had to swallow the lump in my throat.

We got to the hallway of bedrooms and I stopped. "Take any room you want."

"Are you sure?" Jaxon asked, looking at me with a strange expression on his face. I knew he thought I was acting strangely robotic. But that was the only way I could hold back from breaking again.

"Yes. Make yourselves at home." But the more I thought about it, the more I realized this wasn't my home anymore. Though I'd desperately wanted it to be in the very beginning, it simply had too many bad memories. The compound felt more like home now—the home I shared with the strange band of outcasts that had branded themselves as a sort of family of their own.

No one moved. All eyes were still on me and I had to take a deep breath to keep myself together.

Then Benton stepped forward and my heart plunged, seemingly straight out of my body altogether. "Delphinium." For once, it wasn't smug or all-knowing. But I knew how well he could hide things. He was lying. He was waiting until the perfect time to take me back there and I couldn't go, no—

"Delphinium, you know we have things to discuss," he said, looking me straight in my eyes. Reading my thoughts. He knew what I was thinking. He knew my terror, knew how much I felt like vomiting, he knew too much...

"No," I whispered even though I felt like screaming. "No." He wouldn't take me back. I wouldn't be so stupid. I wouldn't be so powerless. Not again.

He sighed, seemingly exasperated that I wouldn't fall for his tricks. "You forget I know what it's like. You forget we're the same." His close proximity to me was all I could think about, I was suffocating in it.

"No." I shook my head wildly. "We're not the same." But we were, oh God, we were. I was just as bad as him and his wretched master.

I looked to Jake, who stood near the wall, watching the assassin. A predator ready to strike. If Benton made a move for me now, he'd stop it.

At least, I hoped so. On the second thought, I wasn't so sure. But if I hadn't been able to defend myself against my fellow assassin once, how could I do it now?

Still not wanting to look into Benton's eyes—the same eyes of my greatest enemy, I caught Kane's flat gaze and knew if Jake didn't make a move for his brother, he would. The strongman stood tall behind Benny, as if he was letting him say what he wanted now, but would intervene if he went any further.

"We are," Benton insisted with eerie calm, like he was daring me to challenge him. "We're both survivors. We survived Orion. And we're the only two to do so." I hated myself for flinching at my old master's name.

With a glance at me, Kane reached out for his brother's shoulder to pull him away from me. "That's enough."

I couldn't be here anymore. I couldn't continue to face him. My weakness would show. So I turned into my room and closed the door. Locked it behind me.

But as soon as I locked myself inside, I wished I hadn't. This was my room but I somehow felt like I shouldn't be in there anymore. This was the room of a scared child desperately trying to conceal her strange abilities. A normal girl. A dead girl.

Perhaps I'd slain forty-two victims, for I'd killed myself as well.

As everything seemed to be in this house, my room was the same. It seemingly hadn't been touched since the day I was taken by the ONNT. There was my bed, the headboard against the wall, my perfectly matching white furniture and all my small trinkets. Trophies. A few certificates for excellence in school. My old ballet shoes, now too small for me to ever hope to fit in. Several dead plants. Like the other rooms I'd seen so far, every surface was covered in a thin layer of dust. My grandmother hadn't been in here since I'd left.

I stared at my old belongings, remembering how I'd felt when I was here last. The same as I did now. Then, I'd been reeling from my first imprisonment with Imperium and everything that had happened in those three years. I'd killed innocents, many more than I had recently. I'd begun to make peace with what I did, but after the second time, I felt the guilt of those murders along with these new ones. And it was crushing me.

There was nothing for me to do here. I couldn't even go in any of the rooms without memories hitting me. Especially not near the east wing. Being at the compound was bad, but this was worse—being in the place my family once dwelt. It was like my old life was being dangled before my face and I couldn't have it.

I then remembered the chest hidden inside my closet. So I dragged it out and opened it, revealing at least twenty knives and daggers I'd smuggled in when my grandmother hadn't let me have weapons in the house—especially when I'd taken being back here after Imperium so badly the first time. There were many instances in which I'd mistakenly lashed out against innocents out of fear. I'd been paranoid then too, seeing my old enslavers around every corner. The risk of being caught with one of these blades was worth it.

After strapping four knives to my thighs and forearms and two on my belt, I had to get used to the feeling of having them on my body once again. Blades—my specialty. The weapons they taught me to use. I hated myself for holding them, even having them near. But I'd hate myself even more if I didn't have them—I'd grown too accustomed to being armed to the teeth. Without my knives, I felt vulnerable, like a part of myself was missing.

I sat on my bed, feeling like I shouldn't. It was mine, even if it didn't quite feel like it.

I won't sleep, I told myself as I stared at the wall. I wouldn't sleep. I wouldn't sleep. I wouldn't—

Eventually, my exhaustion consumed me. I wasn't even aware I was asleep until the night terrors set in, making me writhe and sweat in my slumber.

When I reached my breaking point, I woke up in a cold, nauseous sweat. This place was unfamiliar. Too dark. Like the fortress. The fortress. I was back there again.

And like every night for the past week, I ran to the bathroom to vomit up my fear again.