Page 141 of Glitched Fates & Stolen Mates

The nurse left without a word, her footsteps echoing down the corridor until silence swallowed them whole.

I sat alone on the examination table, the paper crinkling beneath me with every small movement. My legs dangled like a child’s, bare feet not quite reaching the floor. The hospital gown gaped at the back, letting the recycled air prick at my skin.

Minutes crawled past.

Then the door opened again.

I had to blink several times to process the young woman who walked in. Bright ginger hair, shoulder-length and unmistakable.

“Isla!”

Twenty years old now, but I hadn’t seen her since she was a girl. The years had left her thinner than I remembered, paler. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and she moved strangely—too careful, like she was afraid of making sudden movements. What had Moira been doing with her since May? Before she’d fled Scotland, she’d been studying medicine in Edinburgh. Was Moira putting those skills to use here? She’d already had Isla running their Highland base, nearly orchestrating the capture of a shit tonne of wolves before Rory and Theo stopped her.

Isla’s gaze darted to me, then away. She was dressed in civilian clothes—jeans and a jumper, and something was off about the way she carried herself.

“Rory has been so worried. And your dad has been going mad trying to find you. Are you okay, Isla?”

Isla’s voice snapped out loud and defensive. “Of course I’m okay.”

I suppressed a groan. Rory had said Isla seemed conflicted in Scotland, torn between loyalty to her mother and her own moral compass. But it seemed as if her mother had her claws in her tightly now.

But fuck it, it was worth a try.

“Listen, Isla,” I said urgently. “Rory thinks you don’t truly want to be here.”

Isla’s expression grew distant. “This is my life now. Greywatch is doing important work.” Her words were hollow, rehearsed.

“What Rory said back then is still true. We will help you, Isla.”

Sudden tears sprang from her eyes, streaming down her cheeks. “You can’t help me.” She shook her head. “Nobody can.”

“Isla—”

“They’re relocating you from this base as soon as your chip is in,” she said in a rush. “Deploying you. They’ve already got a unit in mind for you, and they need you straight away. It’s been arranged for days. Ma knew there was no way she’d persuade you to work with her. But… you’ve still got a bit of time. You need to quickly convince Ma to trust you enough to let you work with her.”

I shook my head. “I can’t work with her, Isla.”

“Even with the alternative?”

I didn’t know what to say. My choice was to become a monster, or help create monsters. So I simply shook my head.

“Kit, you need to convince her you’re on our side. It would be easier for everyone.”

I studied her face—really looked at her. Saw the fear beneath her composure, the way her hands trembled slightly at her sides.

“Is that what you really think, Isla?”

My voice came out quiet, not accusatory. She flinched anyway.

“Or would that just be easiest for you?”

She shook her head, and her ginger hair caught the fluorescent light. The same hair that used to fly behind her as she ran away from Rory when they were kids—both of them shrieking with laughter as they shifted mid-run, tumbling over each other in a tangle of human limbs and wolf paws whilst the adults rolled their eyes.

“It really doesn’t matter what I think.” Her voice was small, defeated. “Not at this point.”

“How long have you been here?” I asked. “In Switzerland?”

Emerald-green eyes narrowed at me. “For a short while. We travel between sites all the time.”