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  © 2021 Natasha Oliver

  Published by Marshall Cavendish Editions

  An imprint of Marshall Cavendish International

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  National Library Board, Singapore Cataloguing in Publication Data

  Name(s): Oliver, Natasha, 1974-.

  Title: The evolved ones. Book two : sacrifice / Natasha Oliver.

  Description: Singapore : Marshall Cavendish Editions, [2020] | “With the support of National Arts Council Singapore.”--Title page verso.

  Identifier(s): OCN 1155613611 | eISBN: 978 981 4893 80 0

  Subject(s): LCSH: Fantasy fiction.

  Classification: DDC S823--dc23

  Printed in Singapore

  Cover design by Kelley Lim

  To Mom and Dad.

  Thank you for your unwavering love and support as I hopped from here to there and everywhere.

  Oh, and Mom, I spilled nail polish remover on your brand new Queen Anne coffee table when we were living in the apartments in Maplewood. I used all of my pocket money to pay a furniture repairman to fix it before you came home from work.

  And Dad, you should know that was the only mistake I ever made and I still remain your perfect little angel.

  I love you both, more.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Distracted

  August 1st, 3:30pm

  Washington State, USA

  “Well, I have to admit I wasn’t expecting this,” Josh said.

  Neither was Sam. Shards of broken glass were scattered across the floor like caltrops. A painting that could only be described as a novice’s failed attempt of a forest at dusk was lying on its side, its frame cracked. The sofa was on its back with a leg broken off, and two very nice end tables were turned upside down in the middle of the entranceway.

  “Notify Meita,” Sam said.

  Josh’s boots crunched on the shattered remains of a lamp lying at the base of the stairs, its shade wedged in the corner behind the front door. “Your phone works too.”

  Tyson Li owned one of the more modest homes in the popular Queen Anne area of Seattle, and from the looks of things, it had seen better days. The living room appeared as if a small demolition crew had swept through it.

  The kitchen and dining room had fared better: the refrigerator remained upright and the table still had all four of its legs. Three chairs had been pulled out and were turned to face a single one that had its back pushed up against the wall. A tangled rope hung around both its armrests as well as the chair’s two front legs.

  This did not bode well for Tyson, and even less so for Miles, Tyson’s younger brother.

  This place was only hours away from turning into an active crime scene.

  “Don’t touch anything,” Sam shouted.

  “What?”

  Sam stepped over a bookcase and its contents as he made his way to the bottom of the stairs. “Gloves. Wear them.”

  Josh wrapped his fingers around the banister and leaned over the railing. “They’re in the glove compartment.”

  Sam pinched the space between his eyes. “Wipe down anything you touch.”

  He had hoped locating Miles would have been a lot easier than this. The teenager had been missing for twenty-four hours before anyone at Halo noticed. But in everyone’s defense, the boy was a recluse. He hadn’t wanted to socialize with any of them, but neither had he wanted to return home to his parents after he and Rox escaped from Wonderland. In fact, in the last ten months, Miles had only participated in half a dozen of their training sessions. He managed to skip almost all of his psychological assessments with Bethany, their in-house doctor, and now he was missing. His disappearance kickstarted a wild goose chase that led across the country to his older brother’s house where, if the state of the living room was anything to go by, his brother had one hell of a fight with someone … probably someones.

  Sam would have preferred to spend his time helping evolved ones who actually wanted help, but Walter refused to turn the boy away.

  His father was right, of course. New abilities, raging hormones, and let’s not forget post-traumatic stress from being held and experimented on, meant it was also possible that Miles could be the someone that Tyson had that “hell of a fight” with.

  If Sam was right in his latter assumption, Miles needed the kind of help Halo wasn’t equipped to provide. Halo created new identities, relocated families, helped individuals start over with just enough funds to make a go at a second life without the threat of being discovered. Miles needed help not from a relocation provider, but from a psychiatrist, someone dedicated to him and his recovery.

  Sam used the toe of his boot to spread out some papers that had been thrown on the floor, but all of it was useless. A few bills and some kind of homeowner insurance letter. Nothing that could help him locate Miles … or Tyson for that matter. Whoever turned this place over had a good head start on them.

  Why did Miles run? He was clearly safer with them than off on his own. Could his disappearance and the current state of his brother’s house be nothing more than a coincidence?

  “Yo,” Josh yelled from over the banister. “You got the gloves?”

  Sam stood up and kicked at the papers. He stepped over the foam from the inside of a cushion and struggled to open the front door because of the lampshade. He shoved his boot into its largest opening and slowly pivoted on one foot so he could swing it into the living room with the rest of the overturned furniture.

  The air was surprisingly humid for Seattle. He hadn’t spent much time in the Pacific Northwest, but he didn’t think it ever got this hot in this part of the country. The front garden was lush with greenery and colorful plants. Wherever Tyson had gone – more than likely carted off – he hadn’t been missing for long. The plants looked well-watered, but then again, it could have rained recently.

  Sam made a mental note to check the weather reports.

  A crow almost the size of a raven announced its presence as it flew across the yard, drawing Sam’s attention from the yellow and purple flowers lining the narrow path. Nothing about the man standing just outside of Tyson’s front gate was out of place. His clothes said he was someone out for a run, but it was the way he stilled when their eyes met that alerted Sam something was off. The runner held his hand steady over the latch, like he was frozen in indecision, and then he turned and took off at a full sprint.

  “Josh!” Sam shouted as he gave chase.


  It was late afternoon and the roads were about an hour from getting busy. The sidewalks were somewhat slippery, which told Sam it had rained recently, which meant they were no closer to knowing when Tyson’s place had been ransacked.

  The runner was about a good hundred yards ahead of him, but Sam wasn’t worried. Very few people ran as long and as often as he did. The key was not to do a full-out sprint, but to keep pace, because eventually, everyone tired.

  The runner turned left up a side street, disappearing around the corner for a few brief seconds until Sam rounded after him.

  Where are you?

  Regardless of how much they had trained together in the past ten months, Sam still struggled with Josh’s presence inside his head.

  Why are you running? Ohhh … stay connected and I’ll bring the car.

  As if Sam had a choice. Rox was the only one who could stop Josh from invading their thoughts, and no one had spoken to her since she reconnected with her family.

  Perhaps it was a good thing Miles disappeared. Sam hadn’t realized just how much pent-up energy he had until his gait widened and the distance between him and his prey lessened.

  In training, Sam was always aware of the differences between him and Josh. While Josh had natural talent, plus years of ad hoc training, he lacked formal experience. Meita was the closest to giving Sam a real fight, but it was simply a matter of physics with her; he had more mass to throw around. But where he had strength, she had precision. She hadn’t survived as long as she had without knowing when to strike, and when to evade.

  Meita bint Tariq al-Shaikh was the best information specialist he had ever met – and that was saying something because Sam knew his way around a firewall. In fact, Meita was the reason they all still lived. Her and Josh’s timely appearance at Watership Down had saved all of them. Then she saved them again by getting them the backup they needed to get Rox out of Wonderland. However, it was that second dose of help that had changed everything because she didn’t offer it without conditions. One of them was that Sam, Josh, and Rox work for the Global Frontiers Organization (GFO), a non-profit that aided in the advancement of evolved ones. Technically, GFO didn’t exist. They were just an invisible line item on a black-ops budget spreadsheet that lacked oversight or a true mission statement. Whoever was in charge of GFO – right now that was Katherine Louise Cheung – set the objectives and decided to what extent they would “advance” evolved ones.

  The runner looked over his shoulder and stumbled. Sam mentally flicked through the different ways he would subdue him once he caught up, but then the runner hooked another left onto Queen Anne Avenue.

  Sam relayed his new direction to Josh.

  I know. I can see where you are.

  The runner made a sharp right across the main artery and down a side street, causing Sam to shorten his stride to let a passing car go by.

  A dog barking alerted Sam that the runner was crossing to the opposite side of the street. Sam was debating whether to use his ability when a horn blared. The runner had cut in front of a car coming out of its parking space. The driver lowered his window to toss out a few words before speeding off.

  The distance between them closed and it would have been a textbook tackle, but the runner lost his footing when he glanced back. Sam came in too high and slammed into the runner’s shoulder. His weight and the momentum of the collision bruised two of his ribs. Both men cried out, but Sam had the advantage of practice. He rolled with the pain, bringing the runner with him.

  The sound of tires squealing lifted Sam’s head. Daytime running lights were positioned at eye level, and all Sam could focus on was the absence of her energy pulses, but then nails scratched the back of his neck as a hand yanked him out of the path of the skidding car.

  Free from the weight of Sam on top of him, the runner lifted his head at precisely the wrong moment and the front bumper came to a full stop mere millimeters too late.

  The runner’s nose received the brunt of the impact, and whatever injury he had suffered from the fall was insignificant compared to this new one.

  Sam was sure the runner was paralyzed. It was the way his cheek rested on the bumper, the rest of his body completely motionless. But then his eyes started to blink. It meant he was alive, but something was wrong because no one blinked that rapidly or that frequently. Then his mouth fell open and blood poured out.

  Sam was about to tell him to remain still, but the runner’s limbs began trembling as he pushed away from the car. It took him a few tries, but he managed to get to his feet even though he swayed like his brain was struggling to catch up with his body’s movements.

  “Well, as far as being hit by a car goes, it’s not that bad,” Josh said.

  The runner used the hood for balance as he attempted to take his first step.

  “I’m no doctor, but I’m thinking concussion,” Josh said. “Definite cranial damage.”

  “Then connect with him before he passes out,” Sam whispered.

  His thoughts are gonna be a jumbled mess.

  “Oh my God!” The man who had been driving the car climbed out. “Are you alright?”

  I’m gonna go ahead and answer on his behalf—

  “Josh!”

  “What were you guys doing?” the driver said. “Running in the street like that is dangerous!”

  Sam was still on the ground, his knees bent with his elbows resting on top. In hindsight, he should have used his ability to stop the chase before it began, but it felt good to run flat out like that.

  Josh reached for his mobile to phone Meita. She would need to know that their only lead for locating Miles was missing and his home had been ransacked.

  “Did you hear me?” the driver said. “What were you guys doing running into the road like that? This wasn’t my fault!”

  Sam pushed to his feet with the feeling that things were snowballing downhill rapidly. Luckily, the runner hadn’t gotten far. He looked as if he were stuck in a mental loop, contemplating the mechanics of walking. Sam sent a thought to Josh that they should get what they could from the runner before the paramedics arrived.

  “This was not my fault,” the driver shouted again. “I have a camera in my car.”

  Josh stopped mid-sentence with Meita and ended the call. I’ll take care of him, you sort out the camera. He turned to the driver. “Help me check him over,” Josh said as he directed him to the front of the car.

  “You a doctor?” the driver asked.

  Sam lowered himself into the driver’s seat slowly, knowing that once the adrenaline wore off, pain would rapidly set in. The camera was fixed to the windshield just below the rearview mirror and looked to be one of the older models. It was a long cylindrical tube with a black button that ran the entire length on the right side and a shorter button on the left, just beside a narrow slit that housed the SD card.

  “Check SD card,” the camera announced when Sam pressed the eject button.

  Two heads appeared over the front of the car.

  “Check SD card.”

  Sam hit the start/stop engine button.

  “Check SD card,” the camera continued.

  Pull the power cable!

  “What are you doing in my car?” the driver asked, making his way to the driver’s side. Sam switched on the hazard lights with one hand and pulled the power connector from the camera with his other hand.

  Sam wasn’t exceptionally tall or overly muscular. He was more lithe than thick, and was dressed in black cargo pants and a long-sleeved black shirt designed for performance. But it was the way he crossed his arms over his chest as he climbed out of the car that made the driver step back. “Trouble finding the hazard lights.”

  “I-I don’t want no trouble,” the driver said.

  “Think you can call 9-1-1 for us?” Sam asked.

  The driver looked confused, but then slowly nodded as he sidestepped Sam to reach in the car for his phone.

  Got anything? Sam asked as he came to the front of the car where the
runner was now seated and struggling to remain conscious.

  Josh reached up and grabbed Sam’s wrist to create a three-way connection.

  Nausea churned in Sam’s stomach as Josh struggled to find a single coherent thread inside the runner’s thoughts that could lead them to the information they needed.

  Where is Tyson?

  Sam felt the runner try to resist, but just asking the question brought about unsequenced memories of Tyson and his home.

  Images of the runner and two other men breaking into the house briefly took form. A glimpse of a bleeding Tyson tied to one of the dining room chairs, followed by questions and feelings of euphoria at Tyson’s pain when he couldn’t tell them where his little brother, Miles, was located.

  What did you do with him? Sam asked through Josh.

  The runner groaned, but a memory of him driving a car into Tyson’s garage and his two buddies loading an inert body into the trunk told Sam everything he needed to know. They had strangled Tyson, and one of the other two men had gotten rid of the body.

  That would explain the lack of blood back at his place, Sam said.

  What do you want with Miles? Josh asked.

  “Hey!” the driver cut in as if this wasn’t his first time trying to get their attention. “The paramedics are on their way.” Then he pointed to the runner. “He alright? He’s starting to lose color, man.”

  “Joder,” Josh said and tried to regain his connection, but all Sam felt was silence. A sad kind of nothingness. No peace, no darkness. Only silence, and the growing sounds of sirens.

  “You got something, right?” Sam asked.

  Only what you saw.

  Sam swore. What did Meita say?

  To go with the locals. She doesn’t want us causing a scene. Katherine will make a few calls to get us out.

  That could take hours.

  It will take hours. Meita will look into Tyson. I get the impression he’s not been dead long. Josh explained that the images from the runner were too vivid to have happened more than a day or two ago.