She didn’t care. She only cared that he held her, that she absorbed his strength, his warmth and, oh God, the aching awareness that she mattered so much to him.

 He tangled his hand in her hair and then pressed his mouth to the top of her head. He trembled against her, part in anger, but she could feel the emotion pouring into her mind.

 “What else, Shea?” he asked quietly. “We need to know everything. But I need you to know that I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You aren’t alone. And I don’t give a flying fuck how you came into existence.”

 She pulled away and smiled shakily up at him. Then she laced her fingers with his and squeezed. She glanced sideways at Swanny and Nathan’s brothers, embarrassed that they’d witnessed her upset.

 She tugged one hand away from Nathan and wiped hastily at her face, pushing aside her hair. When she would have pulled away from Nathan entirely, he tightened his hold on her hand and guided her back to where they’d been sitting.

 This time he settled her between him and Swanny. He made sure they were touching, his leg against hers, his hand covering her knee.

 She sucked in a deep breath, determined to make it through the rest of the telling without breaking down again.

 “Andrea and Brandon were appalled at the treatment Grace and I received. It wasn’t that we were being tortured or beaten or abused, but we were treated as test subjects, not babies. It was all very cold. We were fed and our basic needs seen to, but little else. We endured endless testing and experimentation. In one entry, Andrea recounted that Grace was purposely cut with a knife to gauge my reaction. Conversely, I was also injured to test Grace’s ability to heal me. And they logged the results, analyzed them, brainstormed ways of utilizing our abilities in a military setting.”

 “What the hell did they expect you to be able to accomplish?” Ethan demanded.

 Shea glanced at Nathan’s brother. He was bigger than both Donovan and Nathan. Taller, broader shouldered. Black hair and startling blue eyes. Nathan was slightly taller than Donovan, but he had a similar build. Lean and muscular. Donovan was a bit heavier, but Shea guessed that under normal circumstances Nathan would have been bulkier. His body was still carved by the time he’d spent imprisoned and nearly starved.

 Nathan’s hair was lighter than Donovan’s and his eyes were dark brown. Donovan’s were green, mesmerizing for the odd shade. Not lighter, but not emerald either.

 Alone, one of them was enough to intimidate the most fearsome person. Together? They were formidable.

 Her gaze drifted to Swanny, her thoughts momentarily interrupted by her analysis of the men she’d now place her trust in. Her heart wrenched. He was tall and lean. Almost haggard in appearance. His cheeks were hollow and his skin was stretched tight over his bones. And the scars on his face were still puckered and raw looking, even months after his rescue. They would take time to heal. They’d never disappear, but with time some of the redness would fade and they wouldn’t look quite so vivid or angry.

 She very nearly reached for his hand, but curled her fingers into a fist instead. He wouldn’t appreciate her pity, and how did you pity a man who’d survived hell? You didn’t pity him. You admired him.

 “Shea,” Nathan prompted softly.

 She flinched, embarrassed at how she’d drifted. She tried to focus her thoughts again. She seemed to be drifting in a sea of confusion, anger and heart sickness.

 She glanced back up at Ethan and bit at her bottom lip. Her stomach clenched and she couldn’t explain the sudden nerves or the panic creeping up her spine.

 Baby, take deep breaths. I’m here. I know this is a lot to deal with. We’ll do it together.

 The loving, soothing voice in her head sent waves of comfort through her veins. She visibly relaxed and sent Nathan a look of gratitude. His brothers glanced sharply at Nathan as if they were aware that something had transpired between him and Shea, but they didn’t know what.

 Again she refocused on Ethan. “I’m sorry,” she said in a quiet, even voice. She was proud of the fact that her voice no longer sounded choked or full of tears. She was determined to get through this.

 Ethan’s expression softened. He looked like he wanted to reach out and take her hand or offer a gesture of comfort. It seemed odd, because he appeared so aloof. All business.

 “Take your time, Shea. I know this has to be difficult for you.”

 She nodded. “To answer your question, again, according to Andrea’s journal, there were several possibilities the organization that funded the research wanted to explore. Remote healing for one. Having someone far removed from the dangers of war or battle with the ability to heal through a psychic link.”

 “Holy hell, is that even possible?” Donovan asked.

 Swanny nodded, injecting himself into the conversation for the first time. Then he glanced sideways at Shea. “Was it you or your sister inside me, when I was so injured?”

 “It was Grace,” Shea whispered. “I didn’t have a connection to you. Only Nathan. Nathan and I were the conduits to  you.”

 “That’s incredible,” Donovan muttered. “Jesus, I can see why they’re so hot to track you and your sister down. Can you imagine what this would mean? You’d basically have an indestructible fighting force. They’d go down and then get right back up.”

 Shea shook her head. “It’s faulty. All of it. It takes a terrible toll on Grace. I doubt she’d be able to heal more than one person at a time, and if the wounds were mortal, they could kill her. Even if they didn’t, she’d be too weak, too devastated, to continue on. And I can’t even heal, which makes Grace the more valuable commodity. I have no doubt they’re after us both, but it only makes sense they’d want what Grace has to offer more.”

 Ethan ran a hand through his hair. “This sounds like some freaky sci-fi movie. No offense, Shea.”

 She nodded sadly. “It does, doesn’t it? Imagine finding out your entire life is one of those freaky sci-fi movies.”

 “So you can’t heal?” Donovan asked.

 “No. I can’t even control my telepathy. I heard Nathan. But why not Swanny? Why not everyone else? It’s frustrating. I’ll hear someone out of the blue. They may not even be in danger. It could be perfectly normal. Someone summarizing a grocery list. Or someone in need. Someone sad. Happy.”

 “It sounds pretty damn awful,” Ethan said grimly. “How the hell do you deal with that? It would make me crazy.”

 “But you did heal,” Donovan said, his brow creasing in concentration. “You were a conduit for Grace. I’d say that makes you every bit as valuable as Grace.”

 Shea shrugged. “Who knows if that’s what they think? I haven’t stuck around long enough to ask questions. I just know I don’t want my sister anywhere near them.”

 “I think it’s naïve to think they wouldn’t want to harness your abilities as well,” Donovan persisted.

 “Their only concern when they held me down and beat me was to extract information about Grace,” she said flatly.

 Donovan held up a hand. “Bear with me here. I’m not trying to be an asshole. They beat you, but you told Nathan it was a methodically executed beating. They hurt you, no doubt, but they didn’t damage you. They were careful not to risk hurting you seriously, and by that I mean broken bones, internal injuries. They were trying to manipulate you with pain and fear but they had no intention of killing you.”

 “Well, of course not. I hadn’t told them anything about Grace.”

 Donovan shook his head. “They want you both, Shea. You need to realize that. You’re as valuable to them as your sister. How would they even know what the full extent of your abilities are? They haven’t had access to you since you were a child.”

 “He’s right,” Nathan interjected. He smoothed his hand over her leg as he spoke.

 “What happened?” Ethan asked. “How did you end up with the Petersons? You were raised as their children and they never told you the truth. You have no memory of the laboratory?”

 Shea shook her head. “In her journal, Andrea wrote that she and Brandon grew increasingly upset over our treatment. They’d been with us, studied us since our births, and they felt a bond to us. They considered us theirs because no one else acted as our parents. They planned their escape meticulously. For months. And then one night, they took us and ran.”

 “Amazing that they were able to keep you hidden from them for all those years,” Donovan murmured.

 “We moved a lot.” She turned to Nathan, a frown twisting her lips. “We talked about this before and it makes even less sense to me now. We never had a lot of money. Mom and Dad always scraped by doing jobs where they could be paid cash. But then we moved to that house in Oregon. You saw it. It’s huge. It’s on the ocean. It has state-of-the-art security and surveillance. We never seemed to worry about money after we moved there. So what happened? Why did we suddenly stop running? Where was the money coming from? They didn’t work. They spent their time homeschooling us, making sure we never went out in public. We didn’t have friends. I’m sure the townspeople thought we were crazy recluses.”

 The men traded frowns. Swanny sat forward, his fingers forming a point. He glanced at Nathan and then at Ethan and Donovan. “That’s a damn good question. It certainly would appear that the Petersons got help from someone. Was there anything in the journal to explain it, Shea?”

 “No. That’s what’s frustrating. She chronicled the events of our early years and she did so after the fact. It was like a written account almost as if she wanted us to know the truth one day. But her entries stopped when we moved to Oregon. Her last entry only says, ‘God willing, we won’t have to run any longer.’ ”