The mansion felt like a tomb.
Dante had shown me to what he called "our bedroom" - a massive suite on the second floor that was bigger than my entire apartment back home. Everything was pristine white and gold, like something out of a luxury magazine. The bed alone could have fit six people.
"Get some rest," he'd said, loosening his tie. "Tomorrow we'll discuss the rules."
Rules. Like I was a pet he'd just brought home.
"Where are you going?" I asked as he headed for the door.
"Business." He didn't even look back. "Don't wait up."
Then he was gone, leaving me alone in this beautiful prison.
I sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, still wearing my wedding dress. The silence was suffocating. No traffic noise, no neighbors arguing through thin walls, no familiar sounds at all. Just the whisper of air conditioning and the distant hum of something mechanical.
After an hour of staring at the walls, I decided I wasn't going to sit there like a good little wife waiting for my husband to come back from his "business." If I was trapped here, I was at least going to figure out what I was trapped in.
The mansion was even bigger than it had looked from the outside. Room after room of expensive furniture and artwork that probably cost more than most people made in a lifetime. But it all felt cold, like a museum nobody lived in.
I was exploring the third sitting room when I heard it - a faint humming sound coming from somewhere below. It was rhythmic, electronic, like machinery running.
The sound led me to a door I hadn't noticed before, tucked away behind a bookshelf in what looked like a study. When I pushed on the bookshelf, it swung inward on hidden hinges.
"Of course there's a secret passage," I muttered. "Because this night wasn't weird enough already."
Stone steps led down into darkness. The mechanical humming got louder as I descended, and I could see a faint blue glow coming from the bottom. My bare feet were silent on the cold stone, but my heart was beating so loud I was sure someone would hear it.
The steps ended at a metal door that looked like something from a science fiction movie. It had a keypad and what might have been a fingerprint scanner. But when I touched the handle, it opened easily.
The room beyond took my breath away.
It was huge - easily the size of the ballroom upstairs. But where the mansion above was all warm colors and soft lighting, this place was stark white and chrome. Banks of computer monitors lined the walls, their screens filled with scrolling data in symbols I didn't recognize. The air hummed with electricity and smelled like ozone and something chemical that made my nose burn.
But it was the freezers that made my blood turn to ice.
They lined one entire wall - tall, cylindrical tanks filled with what looked like liquid nitrogen. And floating inside them...
I forced myself to walk closer, even though every instinct I had was screaming at me to run. The tanks were labeled with numbers and dates, and inside each one was something that had once been alive.
Organs. Tissue samples. Things that might have been limbs but were the wrong shape, the wrong color. One tank held what looked like a heart, but it was too big and had too many chambers. Another contained an eye that was easily the size of my fist, with a pupil that was slit vertically like a cat's.
"Jesus Christ," I whispered, backing away from the tanks.
That's when I saw the desk.
It was positioned in the center of the room like a command station, surrounded by more monitors and equipment I couldn't begin to identify. But it was the papers scattered across its surface that made my knees go weak.
Photos. Dozens of them. All of me.
Pictures of me walking to class. Getting coffee. Sitting in the park reading a book. Someone had been watching me for months, maybe years. And they were all labeled with dates and notes written in that same strange script I'd seen on the computer screens.
But it was the file folder that made me collapse into the desk chair.
"SPECIAL GENE RESEARCH ARCHIVE" was written across the top in red letters. Below that, in smaller text: "PROJECT GENESIS - PHASE THREE."
And stamped across the entire folder in bright red ink: "TARGET SUBJECT - PRIORITY SS."
My hands were shaking as I opened the folder. The first page was a detailed medical report with my name at the top. Blood type, medical history, family background - all information I'd never given to anyone. How did they even get this?
But it was the genetic analysis that made me feel sick.
Charts and graphs showing chromosome patterns, DNA sequences, protein markers. Technical jargon I didn't understand mixed with notes that were crystal clear:
"Subject shows 47% compatibility with Xerion genetic material."
"Reproductive viability: 98.7% success rate for hybrid offspring."
"Recommended for immediate procurement and breeding program initiation."
Breeding program.
I was going to throw up.
"Fascinating reading?"
I spun around so fast the chair rolled backward. Dante stood in the doorway, but he looked completely different than he had upstairs. Gone was the charming groom in the expensive tuxedo. This version of Dante was all hard edges and predatory grace. His jacket was off, his sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms that were more muscled than any human had a right to be.
But it was his eyes that made my breath catch. They weren't amber anymore. They were pure gold, glowing like molten metal in the harsh laboratory lighting.
"You're not supposed to be down here," he said, walking into the room like he owned it. Which, I supposed, he did.
"You're not supposed to have a secret laboratory full of body parts," I shot back, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Touché." He moved closer, and I could see that his canine teeth were definitely longer and sharper than they should be. "But here we are."
"What is this place?" I gestured around the room, the file still clutched in my other hand. "What are all these... things?"
"Research." He was close enough now that I could feel the heat radiating off his skin again. "My employer has very specific interests."
"Your employer?"
"The people who arranged our marriage. The ones who paid your family's debts." His golden eyes flicked to the file in my hands. "The ones who have been very interested in you for a very long time."
"The genetic analysis," I whispered. "The breeding program. You're going to..." I couldn't even say it.
"I'm going to keep you alive," he said simply. "Which is more than they would do if they found out you'd seen this."
"They?"
"The scientists. The military. The politicians who think they can play god with other people's lives." His voice was getting harder, colder. "They want to create the perfect weapon. Something that's part human, part... something else."
"Part what?"
He smiled, and it wasn't a pleasant expression. "That's the million-dollar question, isn't it?"
I stood up on shaky legs, still clutching the file. "I don't understand any of this. A week ago I was a college student working at a coffee shop. Now I'm married to someone I don't know, living in a house with a secret laboratory, reading about genetic experiments and breeding programs. None of this makes sense."
"It doesn't have to make sense to you. It just has to happen."
"No." The word came out stronger than I felt. "I won't be part of whatever this is. I won't be your breeding stock or your experiment or whatever sick thing you people have planned."
"You don't have a choice."
"There's always a choice."
He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Is there? Look around, Aria. Look at where you are. Look at what you've learned tonight. Do you really think you can just walk away from this?"
"I can try."
"You can die." His voice was flat, matter-of-fact. "The moment you stepped foot in this room, you became a security risk. The only reason you're still breathing is because I'm protecting you."
"Why?" The question came out as barely a whisper. "Why would you protect me?"
For a moment, something flickered across his face - something that might have been regret or pain. But it was gone so fast I might have imagined it.
"Because you're valuable," he said finally. "And I don't like waste."
I looked down at the file again, at my photos scattered across the desk like evidence in a murder case. "The genetic compatibility thing. What does that mean exactly?"
"It means you're not entirely human."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "What?"
"Your biological parents weren't who your adoptive family told you they were. Your mother was part of a research program twenty years ago. She volunteered for genetic modification trials."
"You're lying."
"Am I?" He gestured to the file. "It's all in there. Medical records, birth certificates, DNA analysis. Your mother was injected with genetic material from a species called the Xerions. She was told it would cure her infertility."
"That's impossible."
"Is it? Look around you, Aria. Look at what's possible." His eyes flashed brighter. "Your mother gave birth to you and died three days later. Your father lasted six months before the stress killed him. The Rosewood family was paid handsomely to take you in and monitor your development."
"Monitor my development for what?"
"To see if the modifications took. To see if you would be suitable for phase two of the program."
"Which is?"
"Breeding the next generation. Creating children who are part human, part Xerion. Super soldiers who could survive in any environment, fight any enemy, follow any order."
I sank back into the chair, my legs giving out completely. "And Marcus?"
"Was going to be your mate until he figured out what he'd signed up for. Smart man. He took the money and ran."
"But you didn't."
"I'm not Marcus." Dante moved around the desk until he was standing directly in front of me. "I'm not afraid of what you are or what you might become."
"What am I going to become?"
"That depends on you."
I looked up at him, at this man - this creature - who had married me under false pretenses and brought me to this nightmare house. "Are you one of them? A Xerion?"
"No." He crouched down so we were eye level. "I'm something else entirely."
"What?"
His smile revealed those sharp canine teeth again. "That's a conversation for another night."
"I have a right to know—"
"You have a right to stay alive," he interrupted. "Everything else is a privilege you haven't earned yet."
"So what happens now?"
"Now you go back upstairs, get some sleep, and pretend this conversation never happened. Tomorrow we'll start your education."
"Education in what?"
"How to survive in a world where everything you thought you knew was a lie." He stood up and held out his hand. "Come on. It's late."
I stared at his outstretched hand. Taking it would mean accepting this new reality, accepting him, accepting whatever he was planning to do to me. But the alternative...
"If I refuse?"
"Then you die. Tonight. And your family dies tomorrow." His golden eyes were completely inhuman now. "And then they'll find another girl with compatible genetics and start over."
"You'd really kill me?"
"I'd really protect you from the people who would do much worse than kill you." His voice softened slightly. "But you have to trust me."
"Trust you? You're holding me prisoner. You're part of some government conspiracy to breed super soldiers. You have a laboratory full of body parts in your basement."
"All true," he agreed. "But I'm also the only thing standing between you and people who would dissect you alive to figure out how your genes work."
I looked around the laboratory one more time - at the freezers full of horrors, at the computers tracking my life, at the file that proved I was never really human to begin with.
"Knowing too much will get me killed," I said quietly.
"Yes."
"But not knowing enough will get me killed too."
"Also yes."
"So I'm trapped either way."
"Welcome to my world." He was still holding out his hand. "The question is whether you want to be trapped and helpless, or trapped and dangerous."
I thought about that for a long moment. About the girl I'd been this morning - naive, trusting, believing that the worst thing that could happen to me was marrying a stranger. That girl was gone now, probably forever.
Maybe it was time to find out who I could become instead.
I took his hand.
His skin was burning hot, but this time I felt something else - a vibration, like electricity running just under the surface. When our fingers touched, the computer screens around the room flickered, and one of the monitoring devices let out a soft beep.
Dante's eyes widened slightly. "Interesting."
"What?"
"Nothing." But he was staring at our joined hands like they might explode. "Let's go."
He led me back upstairs, through the hidden passage and into the normal-looking study. When he closed the bookshelf behind us, it was like the laboratory had never existed.
"Get some sleep," he said as we reached the bedroom door. "Tomorrow starts early."
"Dante?"
He paused with his hand on the doorknob. "What?"
"When you said you'd protect me from people who would do worse than kill me... what did you mean?"
His jaw tightened. "You don't want to know."
"I think I do."
He turned to look at me, and for a moment his eyes were almost human again. "They want to cut you open and see what makes you tick. They want to harvest your eggs and create test tube babies with your genetics. They want to use your body until it breaks and then throw away the pieces."
"And you?"
"I want to keep you in one piece long enough to figure out what you're really capable of." His smile was sharp. "There's a difference."
"Not much of one."
"No," he agreed. "But it's all you've got."
With that cheerful thought, he disappeared down the hallway, leaving me alone with my wedding dress, my shattered worldview, and the growing certainty that my life had just become infinitely more complicated than I'd ever imagined possible.
I changed into the silk nightgown someone had left on the bed and crawled under covers that probably cost more than my car. But sleep was impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw those tanks full of floating horrors, or the file with my picture stamped "Priority SS," or Dante's golden eyes promising protection and threat in equal measure.
Somewhere in the house, machinery hummed. And I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever was happening to me was just the beginning.
End of Chapter 2