“But all that, everything that’s happened to us, it all boils down to one question right now: Are you gonna keep lying to us and hurting us, or are you interested in finally doing the right thing?”
Again, the ’rents just looked at one another.
I sighed out my disappointment, though why I’d still hold hope they’d do right by us was beyond me.
“Look,” I said, “in those notes you snuck to us, you said you wanted to help us. Was that all just another part of the story? Or do you really want to give us a hand? Be on our side? ’Cause if you do, we could really use some help right now.”
Eyes wide, Celia glanced at Porter, asking him under her breath, “How do they remember the notes?”
Although the question was directed solely at him, Layla answered, “I told you. We knoweverything.”
That’s right, my bestie bluffed like a fuckingboss.
“Well?” Griffin snapped. “Are you in or are you out? ’Cause you’re probably not the only ones listening in on our so-called private conversations. Who else is lined up to listen to this chat?”
“Oh shit,” Orson breathed.
“Yeah,” Griffin said flatly. “Oh shit.”
“Comeon, guys,” Hunt grumbled. “How can it be this hard to decide if you want to help your supposed kids not get raped and murdered? Are you really all just pieces of absolute shit?” His voice pitched high at the end, so unlike Hunt. I suspected it was the sound of his heart cracking.
Brady commented into our telepathic link.
Hunt said, his words, just for us, soft and crushed.
The five of us looked back at the six of them. Even Layla’s previous blustery rage seemed to be deflating.
“Oh my God,” Celia said. “Look at them. They’re…”
Heartbroken. Devastated. Betrayed. Probably a little bit scared shitless, though I wouldn’t admit to it. But what our ’rents didn’t also see was that we wouldn’t remain this way for long. Whatever awaited us, we’d face it head-on. We’d fight and we’d fight and we’d fuckingfight—until there was no one left to stand against us.
Our ’rents had cut us deeply, there was no denying it. Regardless of their shit motivations, they’d still raised us since we were young children. It ached when those relationships crumbled. But those weren’t the bonds that made my crew strong.
The lie-rents weren’t our real family.
Griffin, Layla, Hunt, and Brady—they were my family. Bobo too. For them I’d fight to the death—and beyond. For them I’d resurrect and punish whoever was foolish enough to cause them harm.
“Be honest with us for once in your fucking lives,” Brady said with a growl, but it felt forced, as if he didn’t want them to see how difficult this was for us. “When you look at us, do you see your Nobel-Prize-winning research? Or do you see people you care about? That’s really the question, and it’s simple. If we’re just research to you—”
“Or even if the research part is the most important,” Hunt interjected.
Brady nodded. “Then do us a solid and actually admit it to us right here, right now. Be up-front with us. At the very least, the bare minimum, we deserve that.”
Griffin added, “You owe us that. Youoweus.”
The ’rents didn’t answer right away, consulting with each other with openly questioning looks.
Layla said only to our crew.
Only, of course we did. They were supposed to be ourparents, for fuck’s sake. How were we supposed to know we were dealing with a gang of mad scientists out to leave their mark on their world, whatever the damn cost?
Brady added,
Layla asked, sounding not entirely opposed to the idea.
Hunt said.
Brady said.
