Serrano:My father served with Tack Severn and followed orders without question. How could we ever be close?
Quinn:His politics strained your relationship.
Serrano:Of course. It’s difficult to connect with people you fundamentally disagree with. My parents were part of something I couldn’t, in good conscience, be a part of. They were loyal to a sick regime and a corrupt leader.
Quinn:So your mother was also a Severnist?
Serrano:Who the hell knows, Captain. My mother was weak. She never stood up to my father. I watched her let him dictate every aspect of her life. If she disagreed with President Severn, she’d never say it. She was more interested in not losing her husband than in doing what was right.
Quinn:And your father? Did he believe he was doing what was right?
Serrano:Yes. That’s what he said, anyway. But you want to know what I believe? I believe it was just a mask for his own ambition. He didn’t care about what was best forthe Continent or the Aberrant he claimed to fight for. All he cared about was power.
Quinn:Were you upset when your parents were executed by General Redden?
Serrano:No. They were traitors. They deserved to die.
Quinn:Traitors to who?
Serrano:Traitors to the Company and our new way of life. They were part of a system that failed us, and they never would have been loyal to the General. He did right by sentencing them to death.
Quinn:I see. And you’re insinuating thatyourloyalties lie with the General?
Serrano:It’s not an insinuation. I am fully loyal to General Merrick Redden, and I believe I’ve gone above and beyond in proving that. I assisted the General in his Coup. I—
Quinn:If you’re loyal to the General, then why did you conceal your Aberrant status?
Chapter 40
“I hate to interrupt,” Kallister says, poking his head into the office. “But I’ve been called to the war room.” He gestures to the tablet in my hands. “The rest will have to wait.”
Disappointment lodges inside my chest. Shit. This was just getting good. I’ve finally started reading my mother’s interrogation, and I regret not doing it sooner. It’s by far the most fascinating document in her file.
Somehow, our weekly meetings in his quarters have gone completely undetected. Gray commented on it only once, and I told him Kallister and I like to talk about Jim. It’s not entirely a lie. We do talk about Uncle Jim, but I spend the bulk of my time poring over my mother’s file.
Stepping into the hallway, I get a message from Mako that brings a smile to my lips.
Want to punch some bags, Wrenny?
I head downstairs to the gym, but when I walk in, I don’t expect to find Gray and Saint sparring. My pulse speeds up. I’ve been avoiding Gray for the past few days, and now here he is.
I don’t mean to, but I find myself staring. I’m fixated on the two guys. They’re bare-knuckle, barefoot, and gleaming with sweat. Gray’s hair is sweaty, too. He pushes it away from his forehead, emphasizing his handsome features.
“Too slow,” he taunts as he ducks out of Saint’s punch.
As always, his face dances with mischief. I don’t think it’s possible for this man to ever be sad about something. I’ve seen him angry, but even that doesn’t last. His temper is like a flash downpour, gone before it even soaks the ground.
He bounces on the balls of his feet, then releases a quick jab that Saint manages to twist out of at the last second.
“Who you calling slow?” Saint calls back. He lunges and manages to land an uppercut that makes Gray grunt.
“Nice,” he says, even as he wipes his mouth where blood is beginning to trickle.
They’re both light on their feet. I watch, admiring the way they move. It’s a lot more cordial than Cross’s fight with Xavier in the pit on the Command base, when they nearly beat each other to death and then laughed about it as if it’s a normal thing friends do.
“Wrenny.” Mako pops up behind me.
The sparring match ends, and both guys finally glance in our direction. My gaze locks with Gray. He stares back, half mocking, half amused. Then he unscrews the cap of a metal water bottle and takes a deep swig.
