Chapter 7 - The Sister in the Woods
Amelia ran into the rain without shoes.
Branches tore at her sleeves as she crossed the lawn. Behind her, guards shouted and spread toward the tree line. The girl carrying Lily moved quickly but not blindly; she knew the estate’s security paths and camera gaps.
“Grace!” Amelia screamed.
The figure stopped.
Lily struggled in her arms. “Mommy!”
Amelia slowed as she approached. The older girl was thin, dressed in black, with wet dark hair plastered against her face. A pale scar ran from her left temple to her ear. She held Lily tightly but did not appear to be hurting her.
“Put her down,” Amelia said.
The girl’s eyes searched Amelia’s face. “You know my name.”
“I never forgot it.”
“You buried me.”
“No. I was told you died.”
The girl looked toward the mansion. “He told you.”
“Charles did not tell me the truth until today.”
“He lies even when silence would be easier.”
Lily began to cry. “Grace, please.”
The older girl flinched at the sound of her name. Her grip loosened.
Amelia took another step. “You came into Lily’s room.”
“I needed you to know.”
“You frightened her.”
“I needed Charles to fail.”
“Why take Lily?”
Grace looked beyond Amelia. Security officers were moving closer through the trees.
“To trade.”
“For what?”
“My freedom.”
A shot cracked through the woods.
Grace jerked.
Amelia saw blood bloom across the girl’s shoulder.
She lunged forward as Grace fell, catching Lily with one arm and pulling Grace behind a fallen tree with the other. More shots struck the bark.
The estate guards returned fire toward a ridge beyond the property.
Grace gritted her teeth. “They followed me.”
“Who?”
“The people your husband works for.”
“Derek is in custody.”
Grace laughed bitterly. “Derek was never important.”
Lily clung to Amelia’s neck. Amelia pressed her hand against Grace’s wound. The bullet had passed through the upper shoulder.
Charles reached them with Marcus and two guards.
When he saw Grace, he stopped as if struck.
“Evelyn,” he whispered.
Grace’s eyes sharpened. “Do not call me that.”
Amelia stared at him. “Evelyn?”
“That was the name on her hospital bracelet,” Charles said.
“My name is Grace,” Amelia replied. “I named her Grace.”
The shooter escaped before security could reach the ridge. They found a rifle, a bloodied glove, and tire tracks leading to the highway.
Inside the mansion, Rachel called a physician she trusted. Grace refused sedation until Amelia promised Lily would remain in the room. Even then, her eyes followed every movement.
While the doctor treated her, Grace spoke in fragments.
She had grown up in facilities under different names. The children were tested with lights, sounds, staged threats, and emotional manipulation. Some were adopted by families connected to Aegis. Others disappeared after “graduation.” Grace learned to read cameras, locks, body language, and patterns. At nine, she discovered a file identifying Amelia as her mother. At eleven, Julian contacted her through a hidden terminal.
“He said he could get me out,” Grace whispered.
“Did he?” Amelia asked.
“He got me to the city. Then he vanished.”
“Why did you come here?”
“To find the key. Margot said Charles had it.”
“Margot gave it to me.”
Grace’s face went still. “Margot is dead.”
Amelia looked at Charles.
“We all saw her,” Rachel said.
Grace shook her head. “Margot died at the facility last winter. I watched them take her body.”
The woman at the gate had known family secrets and carried Margot’s face. But perhaps the face was altered, or Grace had been shown a false death, or both.
Marcus entered with news. Police had intercepted Derek’s transport after an armed attack on the convoy. Two officers were injured.
Derek was gone.
Grace closed her eyes. “They are collecting the pieces.”
“What pieces?” Amelia asked.
“Derek. The key. Lily. Me.”
“For the inheritance protocol?”
“For the demonstration.”
Charles moved closer. “What demonstration?”
Grace looked at him with naked hatred. “The one Elias designed before you killed him.”
Charles did not deny it.
Amelia felt the room tighten around the confession.
“You killed my biological father?”
Charles’s voice was low. “I stopped him.”
Grace reached beneath her shirt and pulled out a small metal capsule on a cord. “Then he did not stay stopped.”
She opened it and removed a microfilm strip.
Rachel held it to the lamp.
Tiny letters formed a sequence of dates and coordinates. The last entry was scheduled for forty-eight hours from now at the abandoned Bellweather Medical Center.
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Beside it was a single word:
RESURRECTION.
