Hardwired Read Free Page B

suddenly realizing how much I missed real furniture and longing for my own bed. Chris swatted my legs off the couch and sat down next to me, his glare telling me not to look so relaxed. He was right; that’s what they wanted, that’s what this room was—a comfortable place where they could trick you into letting your guard down. That wasn’t going to happen.
    â€œThis is where the real fun starts,” I said to Chris. “Where they try to get you to tell them all your deep, dark secrets.”
    â€œSays who?”
    â€œTyler,” I replied. I’d slept in his room the night he died, foolishly trying to hang on to some tiny piece of him. It suddenly got cold, the old drafty window above his bed sending a chill through the room that had me shivering and searching for a blanket. When I shook out an old blanket I found on the top shelf of his closet, a composition book fell to the floor by my feet. The instant I picked it up, I knew what it was—his journal, tiny fragments of the time he’d spent in the Bake Shop. I read it from cover to cover that night; he gave me enough information to figure this place out. Enough information to scare me.
    â€œYou boys will be moving on to the reintegration phase shortly,” Ms. Tremblay announced, her gaze sweeping across the ten of us sitting in the room. “No doubt you have some questions about what to expect, both there and at home. This is the time to discuss those issues, along with anything else you have on your minds.”
    I nudged Chris’s arm, warning him to say nothing. He nodded, a half-smile parting his lips. He had no intention of giving them any information.
    â€œBe assured,” Ms. Tremblay continued when we all remained silent, “what is said in this room stays in this room. Nothing you confide in me or your peers will be mentioned in your discharge notes.”
    â€œHa.” The sharp remark was out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop it. All eyes, even those of the security guard, turned to me.
    â€œPerhaps you would like to start, Lucas,” Ms. Tremblay said.
    Oh, I wanted to start all right. I wanted to curse Ms. Tremblay and this entire facility for what they’d done to my brother. I wanted to warn all the genetically flawed guys in here with me, Chris especially, that being sent home equated to nothing more than an isolated hell. Most of all, I wanted to tell Ms. Tremblay to take her fake smile and circle-of-trust crap and shove it. But I wasn’t that dumb.
    â€œNope, I’m good,” I lied. “Couldn’t be better. Happy to be going home. Can’t wait to see my family and friends, ma’am .”
    â€œYou have the benefit of experience here, Lucas. Perhaps you’d like to share some of that with the others, maybe dispel some myths and rumors they may have heard.”
    â€œAnd how do you figure that? I’ve been locked up in this Bake Shop for the exact same amount of time they have,” I said, and she rolled her eyes at my pet name for the facility. “I’ve suffered through the same tests and heard all the same excuses about how the entire gene-testing protocol is for the greater good.”
    She shook her head, aggravated that I wasn’t coughing up my feelings. “You had a brother who came through this program two years ago, isn’t that right?”
    I nodded. That wasn’t exactly earth-shattering information. It was in my intake file, along with my address and date of birth. “I have a dog named Brady and a sister named Suzie, too, but I don’t see how any of that is their business,” I said, fanning my hand out to encompass the other nine guys sitting in the room with me.
    â€œI knew your brother,” Ms. Tremblay replied, ignoring my sarcasm. “You remind me a bit of him. Strong-willed and determined.”
    I bit back my response. What she meant was stubborn and defiant. They’d really tried to break