Chapter 10 - Michael’s Blood
Michael—Evan—had inherited something unusual.
Not supernatural.
Not monstrous.
A rare genetic condition affecting blood clotting and immune response.
Potentially dangerous untreated.
Potentially extraordinarily valuable for the experimental therapy Patrick Mercer had developed.
Margaret discovered doctors were using her infant son for research.
She took him.
Hid him through an adoption.
Patrick Callahan believed Michael died.
Patrick Mercer knew otherwise.
He spent decades searching.
Then Evan found his own history first.
And unknowingly led Patrick straight to me.
I looked at the man I had called my husband.
I didn't know what he was anymore.
Victim.
Liar.
Brother.
Father of my child.
All simultaneously.
There was no clean emotion available.
“I want you away from me.”
Evan nodded.
“And away from Sophie.”
That hurt him.
He nodded again.
Then I finally said my daughter's name aloud.
“Sophie.”
Vincent looked at the sleeping baby.
“Suits her.”
We prepared the operation against the ski resort.
Federal agents wanted Vincent outside.
Patrick Callahan complicated matters.
If Vincent's father was being held against his will, he was a hostage.
If he participated willingly, he was a suspect.
Vincent didn't care.
“I want him alive long enough to answer me.”
Eleanor objected.
“He's still your father.”
Vincent looked at her.
“You taught me blood doesn't excuse cruelty.”
Eleanor had no response.
Before the raid, I received a video.
Patrick Callahan.
Thin.
Sick.
Inside a medical bed.
He looked directly at the camera.
“Claire, don't believe my son.”
Which son?
Vincent?
Michael?
He clarified.
“Vincent.”
I looked at him across the room.
Patrick continued.
“Ask why he recognized you immediately in the cabin.”
My stomach tightened.
Vincent had never asked my name before saying Claire later.
Had he?
I replayed the memory.
He entered.
Asked how long.
Asked about Evan.
Built the fire.
At some point, had I introduced myself?
I couldn't remember.
“Vincent.”
He saw the video.
His face closed.
“Did you know who I was before entering that cabin?”
“Yes.”
Another truth withheld.
“Why?”
He had received my photograph with the order to intercept Evan.
The message identified me.
CLAIRE MERCER. DO NOT HARM.
“You knew.”
“My name, yes.”
“You knew I mattered.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know I was pregnant?”
“Yes.”
That hurt.
“Then finding me wasn't chance.”
“No.”
Everything shifted again.
Vincent hadn't stumbled into the cabin.
He had been looking for us.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because you were in labor.”
“After?”
“Because every answer created another threat.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Welcome to my life.”
Then Patrick's video continued.
“One more question, Claire.”
Vincent looked toward the screen.
Patrick smiled weakly.
“Ask Vincent what he did with your father the night Daniel Mercer died.”
Vincent became perfectly still.
I looked at him.
“No.”
He didn't answer.
“Vincent.”
His eyes met mine.
May you like
“I was there.”
And suddenly the man who had saved my daughter was connected to my father's death.
