Replica

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Nadia stared at her reflection over the sink and wondered if her family would even recognize her. She’d scrubbed off all the blood and other fluids that had stained her skin and hair. Her clothes had been ruined, so now she was wearing a bright-orange prison jumpsuit—necessary camouflage, since she was supposedly being released from prison. The bright orange leached any hint of color from her pale skin, and she had a bad case of raccoon eyes with no makeup to brighten them up.

Despite showering in water as hot as she could bear, she was still shivering, and her eyes were red as if she’d been crying, though she didn’t think she had been. It was hard to be sure. She was so dazed by everything that had happened, by everything she had seen and everything she had done, that she felt like there were holes in her memory. Big, deep potholes that could swallow her whole if she let herself venture too close to their edges.

There was a knock on the bathroom door.

“Nadia?” Nate called. “Are you all right in there?”

No, she was definitely not all right. But she was alive, and she hadn’t been tortured. She hadn’t betrayed Dante and the resistance, and she’d convinced the Chairman to destroy Thea and her sickening research project. Maybe once she got out of the Fortress and back to her own home, she’d have a hope of recovering.

“Nadia?” Nate asked again, and the door rattled. She’d locked it, of course, not trusting that the ordeal was truly over.

“I’m fine, Nate,” she lied. She took a deep breath to steady herself, then opened the door.

Nate had showered in another restroom down the hall. Nadia had hidden away so long that his hair had dried and was even more unruly than usual thanks to a lack of hair product. He frowned fiercely at the sight of her prison jumpsuit. She didn’t like it much, either, but it was a necessary part of the cover story they had concocted to explain the day’s events without revealing anything about Thea. She had supposedly been taken directly from her family’s home to Riker’s Island, and the Chairman had listened in when Mosely questioned her. During the questioning, she revealed that she’d learned Mosely was Nate’s true killer, though she was a little fuzzy on what his motivation was supposed to have been. Mosely had been shot trying to escape, and Nadia was being released and exonerated.

The Chairman had originally insisted that the charade be further strengthened by having Nadia reunited with her family at the Riker’s Island processing center, where inmates were taken in and released, but Nate had categorically refused to entertain the possibility. Nadia didn’t much care where the big reunion occurred, as long as she got out of the Fortress. They were now two floors above the sub-basement, where Thea had resided, but that wasn’t anywhere near far enough away for her tastes.

Nate put his arms around her in a hug. She gratefully hugged him back, reveling in his warmth, wishing it would sink into her flesh and chase away the chill.

“We aren’t safe,” she whispered into his chest. “If your father ever manages to track down the recordings…”

She let her voice trail off. They both knew what would happen if she ever lost her leverage. The Chairman was usually a cold and dispassionate man, but she had clearly broken through that shell. The way he had looked at her when he’d stepped out of Thea’s room had spoken of a soul-deep hatred and a promise of revenge. She didn’t know how much of that hatred spilled over onto Nate. Maybe now that the Chairman could no longer create a Replica he would not stoop so low as to murder his own son. But Nadia wouldn’t put it past him, and she didn’t think Nate would, either.

“I know,” Nate said, lowering his head until he was whispering directly in her ear. There was no one around to hear, not at this moment, but after what they’d been through, she figured paranoia was natural—and smart.

“What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know. But that’s a problem to worry about later.”

He pushed her away a little, but only so he could look down into her eyes. He brushed a stray strand of hair off of her cheek, tucking it behind her ear in an undeniably tender gesture. “I’m sorry I was such an ass to you yesterday. I was selfish, and judgmental, and otherwise completely out of line. Can you forgive me?”

Nadia’s heart fluttered in her chest. She was standing intimately close to him, staring into his eyes. He had touched her with affection, and there was unmistakable warmth in his eyes. He loved her, she realized, in his own way. It wasn’t the romantic, fairy-tale love she’d have wished for in the man she was destined to marry. Not the kind of love he had with Bishop. But it was love nonetheless, and she would have to settle for it until she found a Bishop of her own someday.

“Of course I forgive you,” she said, dropping her gaze and taking a step backward, not wanting him to read her thoughts.

Nate interpreted her withdrawal differently, not knowing the thoughts and emotions that were swirling through her head.

“You mean you’re trying to forgive me,” he said. “But I guess that will take some time.”

She glanced back up at his face to make a hasty denial, then stopped herself. He was right. They’d just been through an unspeakable trauma together, a trauma that made everything else that had gone on between them seem trivial. But none of the things they’d said to one another had gone away, and they were both still hurting. For now, all was peaceful between them, but there was still a storm waiting to be reckoned with.

“I’m sure the same goes for you,” she responded quietly.

He smiled sadly. “Probably so. But we’ll work it out, somehow. We might not be able to go back to what we were, but maybe we can become something new and better.”

“I hope so.”

And considering how dismal her future had looked just a handful of hours ago, that was a very cheering thought.