The Extra's Rise
Chapter 673: Heavenly Demon (10)

Chapter 673: Heavenly Demon (10)

I press my face against the small window in my room, watching the guards change shifts like Arthur taught me to notice. The patterns are always the same—three minutes when no one is watching this corridor. Three whole minutes when I can pretend I’m not Subject Zero, when I can just be Luna.

‘Tomorrow,’ I whisper to my butterfly toy, clutching it tight against my chest. ‘Tomorrow Arthur and Cordelia are going to take me away from here.’

The thought makes my stomach feel funny—not bad funny, but excited funny. Like when Arthur first brought me colored pencils, or when he told me I could choose my own name. But bigger. So much bigger it’s almost scary.

I’ve been practicing what I want to say to Arthur when we escape. Important words that I’ve been too nervous to use, even though I think about them all the time. Words that make me feel warm and safe just thinking them.

‘Daddy.’

I whisper it to my butterfly, testing how it sounds. “Daddy Arthur.” It feels right, like puzzle pieces clicking together. Not scary-right like when the doctors say I’m performing well, but happy-right like when Arthur reads me stories.

But what if he doesn’t want me to call him that? What if I’m wrong about what we are?

I shake my head, remembering what Arthur always tells me. “You can ask me anything, Luna. I’ll always tell you the truth.”

The truth. Arthur has never lied to me, not once. When I ask hard questions, he thinks carefully and gives me real answers. When other adults ask me things, they want specific responses. When Arthur asks me things, he actually wants to know what I think.

‘That’s what daddies do,’ I realize. ‘They want to know what their children think because they care about them.’

I pull out the drawing I’ve been working on in secret—the one I want to give Arthur tomorrow. It’s not like my other pictures. This one is special because it shows the truth about what I hope we are.

In the drawing, there are three stick figures holding hands. The tall one is labeled “Daddy Arthur” in my best handwriting. The medium one says “Mama Cordelia.” And the small one in the middle, with pigtails and a big smile, says “Luna.”

Not Subject Zero. Not the weapon. Just Luna, standing between two people who chose to love her.

‘Is that what families do?’ I wonder, studying my drawing. ‘They choose each other?’

Arthur always talks about choices. How I get to choose what I draw, what stories I want to hear, what name I want to use. But the most important choice—whether I get to be their daughter—that’s not just up to me. They have to choose me too.

‘But they did choose me,’ I remind myself. ‘Arthur said he loves me. Cordelia said she cares about me. They’re risking everything to take me away from here.’

The sound of footsteps in the hallway makes me quickly hide my drawing under my pillow. It’s too early for Arthur’s visit, but I’ve learned to be careful. The doctors don’t like when I have “unauthorized emotional attachments.”

‘Stupid doctors,’ I think, using a word Arthur told me was for expressing frustration privately. ‘They don’t understand anything about families or love or being happy.’

The footsteps pass by without stopping, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Soon those footsteps won’t matter anymore. Soon I’ll be walking down different hallways, in a real house with Arthur and Cordelia.

I close my eyes and picture the house I drew for Arthur—our house. I imagine waking up in my own room, with real windows that show a real garden. I imagine Arthur making breakfast in the kitchen while Cordelia helps me get dressed. I imagine all of us sitting together at a table, eating food that isn’t measured and calculated but just tastes good.

‘Will Arthur still read me stories when we live in our house?’ I wonder. ‘Will Cordelia still help me with my drawings?’

The thought makes me a little worried. Right now, Arthur and Cordelia visit me because it’s their job. But when we leave here, when I’m not a subject anymore, will they still want to spend time with me?

‘Don’t be silly,’ I tell myself. ‘That’s not how love works. Arthur explained it to me.’

Arthur said love isn’t something you earn by being good enough or useful enough. Love is something people give because they want to, because caring about someone makes them happy. He said the best kind of love is when people choose each other not because they have to, but because they can’t imagine being apart.

‘That’s how I feel about Arthur and Cordelia,’ I realize. ‘I can’t imagine being apart from them.’

The idea of being separated from them makes my chest hurt in a way that has nothing to do with my enhancements or the implants. It’s a different kind of hurt—the kind that comes from caring about someone so much that losing them would break something inside you.

‘Is that what it means to love someone like family?’ I wonder. ‘When the thought of losing them hurts more than anything else?’

I think about the stories Arthur has told me about normal families. Parents who worry when their children are late coming home. Children who miss their parents when they’re at school. People who celebrate birthdays and holidays together because being together makes ordinary days special.

‘I want that,’ I admit to my butterfly toy. ‘I want to worry about Arthur and Cordelia when they’re gone. I want them to worry about me. I want us to celebrate things together just because we’re family.’

The door to my room opens, and my heart jumps until I see Arthur’s familiar face. He’s early today, and there’s something different about his expression. More serious, but also more… hopeful?

“Good morning, Luna,” he says, settling into his usual chair. “How are you feeling today?”

‘Like I’m going to explode from excitement and nervousness,’ I think, but what I say is, “I’m good. Are you… is everything okay?”

Arthur smiles, but it’s his careful smile, the one he uses when he wants to tell me something important but doesn’t want to scare me. “Luna, I need to talk to you about something very important. Can you come sit with me?”

My stomach does the funny flip-flop thing again as I walk over to Arthur’s chair. He pats his knee, and I climb up to sit on his lap like I sometimes do when I’m scared or sad. His arms come around me automatically, holding me safe and secure.

‘This is what having a daddy feels like,’ I think with sudden certainty. ‘Being held like you’re precious and protected and loved.’

“Luna,” Arthur says quietly, “tomorrow night, we’re going to leave this place. All three of us—you, me, and Cordelia. We’re going to go somewhere safe where no one can hurt you or make you do things you don’t want to do.”

Even though I knew this was coming, hearing it out loud makes everything feel real in a way that’s both wonderful and terrifying.

“Really?” I whisper. “We’re really going to leave?”

“Really,” Arthur confirms. “But it might be scary sometimes. There might be moments when you’re frightened or confused. I need you to trust me and Cordelia completely. Can you do that?”

I nod without hesitation. “I trust you more than anyone in the whole world.”

Arthur’s arms tighten around me, and I can feel something change in the way he’s holding me. Like he’s memorizing how it feels to have me close, or like he’s making a promise with his whole body.

“Luna,” he says, and his voice sounds different. Softer and stronger at the same time. “I want you to know that no matter what happens, no matter where we go or what challenges we face, you will always be my family. Do you understand?”

‘Family.’ The word makes my heart feel so full I think it might burst.

“Arthur?” I say, looking up at his face. His blue eyes are shiny, like he might cry, but he’s smiling too. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

I take a deep breath, gathering all my courage. This is the most important question I’ve ever asked, and I need to be brave enough to hear the answer.

“When we leave here… when we go to our new house… could I…” I swallow hard, my voice getting smaller. “Could I call you Daddy?”

Arthur goes very still. For a moment, I worry I’ve said something wrong, that I’ve asked for too much. But then I see his expression, and it’s not upset or uncomfortable. It’s something else entirely—something that makes me feel warm all the way down to my toes.

“Luna,” he says, and his voice is thick with emotion. “I would be honored if you called me Daddy. More honored than you could ever know.”

Relief and happiness crash over me like a wave. I throw my arms around Arthur’s neck, burying my face against his shoulder.

“I love you, Daddy,” I whisper, using the word out loud for the first time. “I love you so much.”

I feel Arthur’s body shake slightly, and when he speaks, his voice is rough around the edges.

“I love you too, sweetheart. My brave, wonderful daughter.”

‘Daughter.’ He called me his daughter. Not subject, not asset, not weapon. Daughter.

We sit like that for a long time, holding each other and letting the reality of what we are sink in. I have a daddy now. Arthur has a daughter. Tomorrow we’re going to start our real family, in a real house, with real happiness.

‘Tomorrow,’ I think, clutching my butterfly toy between us, ‘tomorrow I get to be Luna, and Arthur gets to be Daddy, and we never have to pretend to be anything else ever again.’