Chapter 71: The Leak

I shoved the photo into my pocket just as the lock turned. I grabbed the first thing I could reach—a heavy iron skillet from the dish rack.

"Sarah?"

It was Ben. He pushed the door open, looking winded. Mark was behind him, limping but upright.

"You're okay," I said, lowering the skillet. "I thought..."

"You thought we were them," Ben said, stepping inside and locking the door behind him. "We saw the car across the street. Black sedan. Tinted windows."

"They're watching the house," I said. "And they've been inside."

I showed them the package. The photos. The message.

*WE ARE AWAKE.*

Mark picked up the photo of the baby. He stared at it, his face pale.

"It's not just a baby," he said. "Look at the blanket."

I looked closer. The blanket was embroidered. Tiny, white stitching on the hem.

*G-4.*

"Generation Four," I whispered. "Edith said Leo was the source. But if there are already babies..."

"Then she started without him," Ben said. "She used the frozen samples."

"But she needs marrow," I said. "Fresh marrow. That's why she wanted Leo. That's why she took Subject 12's son."

"Maybe she found another source," Mark said. "Another donor."

"Who?"

"One of us," Mark said. "One of the twelve."

I looked at the photo of the baby's eyes. My eyes.

"They're not babies anymore," I said. "The original twelve. We were born in 1988, 1989. We're adults."

"And if she found them..." Ben started.

"She could be harvesting them," I finished. "Or recruiting them."

I looked at the window. The black sedan was still there, a shark circling the block.

"We can't stay here," I said. "It's compromised."

"Where do we go?" Lucia asked, coming into the kitchen. "We're running out of safe houses."

"We go to Vance," I said. "He has the affidavit. He has the leverage."

"Vance isn't answering his phone," Ben said. "I've been calling him for an hour."

My stomach dropped. "He was at the precinct."

"He left," Ben said. "According to the desk sergeant, he signed out two hours ago. He said he had to retrieve 'sensitive documents'."

"The original custody papers," I said. "The ones from 1988. He said they were in his archives."

"His archives aren't at the firm," Mark said. "They're at his house. In the Hamptons."

"If Edith gets to him first..." I let the sentence hang.

"We have to go," I said.

We piled into the SUV. I drove, taking a convoluted route to shake the sedan. We hit the highway, speeding toward the coast.

Vance's house was a sprawling modern structure of glass and concrete, perched on a cliff overlooking the ocean. It looked peaceful. Empty.

But the front gate was open.

"Stay in the car," I told Clara. "Lock the doors."

Ben, Mark, Lucia, and I moved toward the house. The front door was unlocked.

Inside, the house was a wreck. Papers were strewn everywhere. Drawers were pulled out, overturned. It looked like a hurricane had passed through.

"Vance!" I shouted.

No answer.

We moved through the house, checking rooms. Nothing. No Vance. No Edith.

"The study," Mark said. "He kept the archives in the study."

We ran down the hall. The study door was closed.

I pushed it open.

Vance was there.

He was sitting in his leather chair, behind his desk. His eyes were open, staring at the ceiling.

There was a small, neat hole in the center of his forehead.

"Oh god," Lucia whispered, turning away.

I walked to the desk. The drawers were empty. The safe in the wall was open.

"They took it," I said. "The custody papers. The original birth certificates. Everything."

"Not everything," Ben said.

He pointed to Vance's hand. It was clenched in a fist.

I pried his fingers open.

Inside was a small, silver flash drive.

And a note, scrawled on a cocktail napkin.

*The leak isn't a hack. It's a person.*

I stared at the note.

*The leak.*

Edith had known where we were. She knew about the motel. She knew about the rental house. She knew about the bonds—a lie I had only told to three people.

Ben. Mark. Lucia.

I looked at them.

Ben, who had found the nurse.
Lucia, who had taken the money.
Mark, who had been "born" with me.

"Who?" I whispered.

"It's not Ben," Mark said quickly. "He saved us at the lake."

"And it's not Lucia," Ben said. "She saved you at the estate."

I looked at Mark.

"And you?" I asked. "You were with Edith for thirty years. You were her golden child."

"I was her victim," Mark said, his voice rising. "She broke my ribs. She tried to burn me alive."

"Did she?" I asked. "Or was that part of the show?"

I thought about the greenhouse. The fire. How Mark had "miraculously" escaped. How he had known about the keycard. How he had guided me to the basement.

"Show me your phone," I said.

"What?"

"Show me your phone, Mark."

He hesitated.

"Sarah, you're paranoid."

"Show me."

He reached into his pocket. But instead of a phone, he pulled out a gun.

Edith's revolver. The one I had left in the nursery.

"I'm sorry, Sarah," he said, his hand shaking. "She promised me the cure."

"The cure?" I asked. "For what?"

Mark pulled up his sleeve.

His arm was covered in bruises. Dark, purple welts.

"I'm sick, Sarah. Just like Leo. I have the bleeding. And Edith... she has the marrow."

He cocked the gun.

"I need to live."