Darkest Sins (Perfectly Imperfect #9)

“That’s a disturbing way of thanking someone.”

“I know. But it’s the only way I know how.” He rises—slowly, and with measured movements, as if he doesn’t want to spook me. “It was the wrong thing to do, and I understand it now. I’m sorry for scaring you. You won’t be seeing me again.”

What? No! I don’t want him gone. I clasp my hands in front of me and take a step closer to this mysterious man.

“You can come again,” I blurt out. “If you need to have a bullet dug out or to be stitched up again, you know where to find me.” I pause, then add, “If you don’t mind looking like Frankenstein’s monster afterward, that is.”

He lifts his hand as if he’s going to touch me, but then slowly pulls it back. “Real monsters rarely look like one.”

I watch his broad back as he heads to the front door, his steps sounding hollow in the room. With every foot of distance,the tingling in the tips of my fingers from his kiss turns into a quake.

“You won’t even ask my name?” I shout at his retreating form.

He halts at the entryway threshold and places his hand on the frame. “If you give me your name, then I’ll need to give something back. That’s how conversations work.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it. I just don’t have much to give.”

I start to say that it can’t be true, but he’s already opening the door.

“You can give meyourname,” I call after him.

There is a strange stillness in his body as he stands there—a big marble statue in the doorway, while cars zoom by on the street beyond.

“I could give you a name.” His voice is low, I can barely hear the words at this distance. “But it wouldn’t be mine, tiger cub.”

I stand in the middle of the clinic, staring at the door that shuts with a click after him, wondering what he’d meant by that. And hoping I’ll get to see him again. Hopefully it won’t take as long until the next time.

Chapter 7

26 years ago from the present day

Z.E.R.O. unit base

(Kai 8 years old)

Bright light shines on me from the fixture on the ceiling. I squint my eyes and shake my head, trying to clear out the dizziness. The last thing I remember is two nurses at the psych ward holding me down, while a third plunged a syringe into my thigh. When the guy in the uniform stated that I was to come with him, I kicked his nuts and tried to escape. I got to the middle of the hallway before the nurses caught up to me, tackling me to the ground.

“You want to keep the boy’s name?” A voice I don’t recognize comes from my right. “What about his records?”

“Make him disappear, Felix.” Another voice, but this one I’ve heard before. It’s the military guy.

Keeping as quiet as I can, I turn my head to the side, taking a look around me. This seems to be some kind of clinic. There are two wheely beds and shelves with medical supplies. The walls are gray and look unfinished, and electric wires stretch along the floor. No windows.

My eyes slide to the opposite side of the room, to where the two men are standing. One is the guy in uniform. The other is older and wearing a tweed jacket. He’s got thick brown glasses on his face and a laptop under his arm.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just give him a new identity?”

“No,” the uniformed jerk says. “His file makes it sound like he’s not mentally stable. Changing his name again might fuck him up even more.”

“Again?”

“He was found abandoned, neglected, and half-wild when he was six. The social worker couldn’t get the boy to state his name, so he gave him a new one. Apparently, he picked the first name based on a movie he recently watched. And, since the boy spoke partial Polish when he was discovered, his last was chosen at random from an online list of ethnic names.”

The man in the tweed jacket turns and looks at me over the rim of his glasses. “So, the boy doesn’t know anything about his past? Not even his real name?”

“Nope. An ideal candidate and first recruit for my Z.E.R.O. program, don’t you think?”