Page 57 of Twisted Gift

“I—what the hell are you talking about?” My throat stings as I speak, a painful reminder of the fit of screaming I had a few minutes ago.

Dr. Collins crosses her arms over her chest. “We know about the fae—both the light and the dark—and we know you’re the light’s leader.” Her tone is cold, uncaring.

I struggle against the restraints. “That doesn’t explain why I’m here,” I seethe, my heart throwing itself against my ribcage. “Isthiswhy you were gone? Why you weren’t there when my brother died?” My teeth chatter. “Maybe if you’d been doing your job, he—”

“Aurora, your brother was very sick. Had I been there that night, I would’ve done what the doctors there did, and the outcome would’ve been the same. I’m sorry for your loss, I am, but that’s neither here nor there.”

“The hell it is,” I growl.

She exhales, changing the subject with a shake of her head. “You weren’t born fae. You had fae lineage, yes, but were still technically human.” It’s not a question, so I don’t bother offering an answer. “You were changed upon the death of the previous leader—at your hands.”

I struggle in an attempt to sit up. “Yep. Still no explanation.” I tug on my arm. “What the hell are you doing to me?” I demand.

“We’re keeping you here.”

My eyes swing back to her. “A-plus with the vague-ass answer, Doc, but that doesn’t help me.”

She almost smiles. “We don’t want to harm you, Aurora, however, we had to be sure you couldn’t be a threat to our organization while you’re here.”

“What organization?” I ask.

She ignores my questions and instead walks around the bed and checks over the machines above my head. She hums under her breath, something that sounds as if it’s meant to be calming, but my blood is running cold.

“Richelle,” I growl. “Why am I here?”

Her eyes land on me. “My daughter, Corrine, was killed by one of you,” she says in a voice void of emotion.

Tightness clamps down on my chest. “What?”

“Ten years ago, when she was thirteen years old, she was out with some friends and ran into a fae who decided to make her their next meal.” She has a distant look in her eyes as if she’s told this story many times and is reciting a practiced version of it. “Unlike some of the fae—like yourself, I’m sure—this fae didn’t stop feeding when Corrine crumpled to the ground. She was dead.”

My mind is reeling. Suddenly, I flash back to the day Adam and I ran into her at the mall. She’d said her daughter was at the video game store.

She lied.

“I want them to pay,” she says, bitterness lacing her tone.

I frown. “I’m sorry, I—”

“I don’t blame you, Aurora, and I wish you no harm.” Her tone is kind, an odd contrast to the dark expression on her face. “You never meant to be fae, that much we’ve gathered in our research.”

I shake my head. “Your research?”

“Yes. Please correct me if I’m wrong, but from what we know, you became fae upon the death of Jules, the previous light leader. You killed him for hurting you, however, you had no idea killing him would in turn make you faeandthe new leader of his kind.”

“That’s right,” I answer reluctantly. “Why does it matter?”

She offers a small smile. “Our fight is not with you. At least, it doesn’t have to be.”

“What fight?”

Her smile fades as her expression darkens, shooting shivers up and down my back. “We’re going to rid this earth of fae.”

I blink once. Twice. My lips feel glued shut, and my throat is too tight to speak. “I don’t understand,” I whisper, my voice cracking.

She nods. “I belong—along with a team of scientists, doctors, and others—to what’s known as The Experiment. We’re a group of professionals working against the fae—your kind now.”

“You’re hunters,” I mutter. “Killers.”

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