Chapter 2 - The Child Who Had Already Been Poisoned
Mia slept in a bedroom upstairs.
Not because Sylvio trusted her.
Because he trusted the possibility that someone else had followed her.
Security checked every hallway.
Every entrance.
Every employee.
Every vehicle.
No one left.
No one entered.
Sylvio stood in the surveillance room while Vincent watched camera feeds.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“Then the girl came alone.”
“Looks like it.”
Sylvio stared at the screen.
Mia was curled into a ball beneath a blanket much too large for her.
A nurse sat nearby.
The child slept with one hand closed around Sylvio's coat.
Vincent noticed.
“She trusts you.”
“No.”
“Then why is she holding your coat?”
“Because she doesn't have anything else.”
Vincent looked away.
He had known Sylvio for twenty-five years.
He had seen him bury his father.
He had seen him shoot a traitor.
He had seen him negotiate with men who controlled governments.
But he had never seen him stare at a sleeping child like that.
“What are you thinking?”
“That someone poisoned a six-year-old girl to practice killing me.”
Vincent's jaw tightened.
“Vale.”
“Yes.”
“We need to confirm.”
“Do it.”
Vincent left.
Sylvio went upstairs.
Mia woke when he entered.
Her eyes opened instantly.
She sat up.
“Where am I?”
“Safe.”
“Safe from what?”
“Everybody.”
She looked skeptical.
“That's not possible.”
Sylvio sat in a chair.
“You're right.”
She pulled the blanket up.
“Am I staying here?”
“For now.”
“Am I in trouble?”
“No.”
“Can I leave?”
Sylvio paused.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“When you're ready.”
She looked surprised.
“You're not making me stay?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because nobody owns you.”
Mia looked down.
“My old people did.”
Sylvio's eyes hardened.
“Who?”
“I don't know their names.”
“Tell me what you remember.”
She thought.
“A basement.”
“Where?”
“Under a building.”
“Which building?”
“I don't know.”
“What did they do?”
Mia hugged her knees.
“They made us stand in line.”
“Who is us?”
“Kids.”
Sylvio went completely still.
“How many?”
“I don't know.”
“Ten?”
She shook her head.
“More.”
“Twenty?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“They wanted to see who got sick.”
Sylvio's face changed.
“What?”
Mia started trembling.
“They gave us drinks.”
“Poison?”
“Sometimes.”
“Why?”
“To test them.”
“And you?”
“I didn't drink.”
“Why?”
“My mom taught me.”
“What did she teach you?”
Mia whispered,
“Never trust something you didn't see made.”
Sylvio remembered the little girl's warning.
“Your mother knew about poisons?”
“She worked with Dr. Vale.”
Sylvio closed his eyes.
His grandmother had once employed Sarah Bell.
A laboratory assistant.
Brilliant.
Quiet.
Trusted.
She had disappeared fifteen years ago.
He had forgotten her.
Or perhaps been encouraged to.
“Your mother worked for us?”
Mia nodded.
“She said the bad men wanted everyone dead.”
“Who?”
“The people in black suits.”
Sylvio almost smiled.
Everyone around him wore black suits.
“Can you describe them?”
“One had a silver ring.”
“Anything on it?”
“A snake.”
Vincent entered.
“We found Vale.”
Sylvio stood.
“Where?”
“Old Saint Jude's hospital.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Let's go.”
Mia suddenly grabbed his sleeve.
“Don't.”
Sylvio looked down.
“Why?”
“That's where they take people.”
His expression changed.
“You've been there.”
She nodded.
“They made Mom go there.”
“When?”
“Before she died.”
Sylvio looked at Vincent.
“Get a team.”
He turned back to Mia.
“You stay here.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“You're safer here.”
“My mother left something there.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
Sylvio crouched.
“How do you know?”
“She told me.”
“What exactly?”
“She said if I ever saw a man with silver eyes, I should tell him about the red room.”
Sylvio stared.
“Silver eyes?”
Mia nodded.
“Like yours.”
His expression hardened.
His eyes were not silver.
They were dark green.
But in certain lighting, gray.
Mia had been looking at him.
Not Vincent.
Not anyone else.
Him.
“What did your mother mean?”
“I don't know.”
Sylvio stood.
“Then I'm coming back.”
Mia grabbed his sleeve.
“Don't die.”
For the first time that night, Sylvio's voice broke.
“I won't.”
They left.
The hospital had been abandoned for years.
Inside, the air smelled of dust.
The lower floor was sealed.
They found the red room.
A laboratory.
Tables.
Broken glass.
Old photographs.
Patient numbers.
Sylvio saw one familiar image.
Sarah Bell.
Standing beside Adrian Vale.
Then he saw another photograph.
A child.
Mia.
Barely two years old.
Sylvio stared.
“How old was she here?”
“Two,” Vincent said.
“Then this place was active until recently.”
They found files.
Children.
Tests.
Toxicology reports.
Then Sylvio found his own name.
Subject: Sylvio Romano.
Target profile.
Suspected immunity.
Preferred delivery: food.
Testing status: successful.
He stopped breathing.
Vincent stared.
“Boss.”
Sylvio turned the page.
The first test subject was listed.
Mia Bell.
He looked at the date.
Three months ago.
The same month her mother died.
Mia wasn't a random victim.
She was chosen because her body could survive the toxin.
They had tested it on her.
And she had lived.
Sylvio turned another page.
A note was attached.
Mia has inherited resistance from her mother.
Do not terminate.
Maintain observation.
Sylvio's blood ran cold.
“Her mother had resistance.”
Vincent nodded.
“And so does she.”
“What does that mean?”
Sylvio looked toward the doorway.
“It means whoever created this toxin spent years looking for someone who could survive it.”
Then he looked at the photographs again.
Sarah Bell.
Adrian Vale.
Mia.
And one more photograph.
Sylvio's father.
Standing beside Vale.
Fifteen years earlier.
His father was supposed to have ordered Vale's death.
But the photograph proved something else.
May you like
They had been working together.
And their secret had survived fifteen years.
