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“If you know everything about it, why don’t you just drop all the information off at some journalist’s doorstep?”
“I don’t think you understand exactly how powerful these people are,” Jerry says, her voice steely. And I believe her. I don’t know. I don’t even remotely know. I’ve worked hard to keep it that way. But I know how powerful mom and dad were. At least for a time. “The second this gets out to the press anywhere, they’ll be as good as dead.”
“And we won’t be?”
“We have something else on our side,” Jerry says, looking at the others.
“What is that?”
“The CIA.”
My blood turns cold. “What is going on here?”
“Welcome to Project Fallen Angel, sis.”
“I need to go back home.” I get up, my heart beating out of my chest. I can feel the blood racing to my ears, my neck getting hotter and hotter as my shirt suddenly feels ten times too tight.
“There’s no going home. The second you go home, you’re dead.”
“You told me I could go home after I told you what I knew,” I hiss.
“And I thought you knew a little more. I can’t use anything you know, so now we’re going to plan B.”
“Who the hell are you. Tell me the truth,” I say, stepping to the right and slowly drifting backward.
“Project Fallen Angel. Top secret black operation by the CIA. We’re stationed all over the country to keep everything in check.”
“But, that’s ill—”
“Illegal since 1947. Yes, I know.” Jerry rolls her eyes as if this is something she’s heard dozens of times. I doubt anyone would get this far with her, though. Not unless they were going to die after she told them.
This isn’t something you tell someone who will be a free woman after this.
“It’s not exactly a secret that the CIA doesn’t exactly do what it’s told. There have been dozens of projects conducted on US soil since the National Security Act was signed.”
“Project MK-Ulta,” Elena says, and my head whips to her. I had forgotten she was there, too focused on the story my sister was telling me.
“Project SHAMROCK was a big one, but that was kind of a sister project of Project MINARET from before the act was signed,” Zach says, stretching his back.
“Hell, in the 60’s, they had Operation CHAOS,” Brandon states, throwing his hand up before slapping it on his leg.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Jerry barks, annoyed at the explanations. “The CIA has never once done what it was supposed to. Why do you think they would start now?”
“What do you do?” I ask, half curious and half terrified.
“We all do different things. Elena is an informant, Zach gathers intel, Brandon does, well, I’m not actually quite sure what Brandon does, if I’m quite honest with you. Ronan is a deep cover agent and an informant.”
I look them over, watching their faces as they watch me intently, trying to figure out what I’m thinking. For a moment, just a moment, I forget that I was just told that I have to marry Ronan.
I have so many more questions, but they’ll have to wait.
Anxiety grips my stomach, twisting it as pain starts up in my lower abdomen. I feel like a knife is scraping my insides, and I close my eyes, trying not to show fear. I don’t have time for pain right now, especially when it’s my own body turning against me.
“I need to go home.”
“You can’t do that,” Jerry says, her voice monotone. “If you’re not killed, you’re going to get arrested. You’re going to be put in this very same position, except you won’t get a chance to fix what your parents did wrong. No. You’ll be arrested, put on trial for their wrongdoings, and you’ll be put in a jail cell for the rest of your pathetic, miserable life, where you’ll likely die. Here, I’m giving you a chance to really do something good with your life. To make a difference.”
I feel my eyes well with tears as I look around, desperate to go anywhere but here. I just want to go home, back to my bed. Back to Adam and Shiloh.
