Chapter 14 - The Ash and the Dawn
The silence that followed Julian's fall was broken only by the whistling wind and the rhythmic, powerful crying of the child.
Marcus hung over the void for a second longer before Althea’s strong, calloused hands locked onto his collar, hauling him backward onto the safe, reinforced section of the floor. Marcus collapsed onto his back, panting, staring up through the shattered ceiling into the stormy sky.
Clara crawled across the wet marble, the baby secured against her chest. She reached Marcus, collapsing beside him, burying her face into the curve of his neck. Marcus wrapped his uninjured arm around both of them, his tears finally breaking through, mixing with the rain on Clara’s cheek.
"We made it," Marcus whispered, his voice cracked and raw. "We're alive."
Althea knelt beside them, pulling a medical scanner from her vest. She ran the sensor over the infant's chest. The monitor beeped with a clear, steady, perfect rhythm.
"The stabilizer is fully integrated," Althea said softly, a genuine, exhausted smile touching her lips for the first time. "Her bone marrow has accepted the CRISPR rewrite. She's completely healthy. She won't need another dose."
As the wind began to die down, the sound of heavy rotor blades beat through the clouds.
A massive search-and-rescue helicopter emblazoned with the official seal of the Federal Bureau of Investigation descended through the mist, its floodlight illuminating the ruined penthouse in brilliant white.
"Federal authorities," Althea said, standing up and shielding her eyes. "My contacts inside the Department of Justice finally bypassed Croft’s blockade. It's over."
Clara looked down at the baby in her arms. The little girl had stopped crying. Her deep brown eyes were open now, blinking calmly against the soft morning light beginning to crest over the distant ocean horizon. The storm clouds were breaking, golden rays of dawn piercing the dark city streets below.
Clara looked up at Althea, the woman whose blood ran through the child's veins, then at Marcus, the man who had nearly died three times over to protect her.
"What do we do now?" Clara asked quietly. "Who does she belong to?"
Althea looked at Clara—at the bruises on her arms, the dried blood on her hospital gown, and the fierce, unyielding love radiating from her every breath.
"A child doesn't belong to a genetic sequence, Clara," Althea said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "She belongs to the people who bleed for her. You gave her life twice tonight."
Althea reached out, gently touching the baby's tiny hand. The infant's fingers curled tightly around Althea’s thumb.
"I have to disappear," Althea continued, looking toward the descending federal helicopter. "Julian’s syndicate has remnants abroad. If they know I'm alive, they will never stop hunting. But as long as the world believes Dr. Althea Sterling and her child died in this building... she will be safe."
Marcus looked at the geneticist, profound respect shining in his eyes. "You're giving her to us?"
"I'm entrusting her to her parents," Althea corrected, a single tear slipping down her scarred cheek. "Just promise me one thing."
May you like
"Anything," Clara whispered.
"Tell her where she came from," Althea said. "When she's old enough. Tell her that her mother loved her enough to let her go."
