Hypergeniture Bk. 01 Pt. 02

BOOK ONE • PART TWO

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has engaged with this story already! Your comments, feedback, favourites and ratings are wonderful and most welcome. Please keep them coming.

All sexual activity is between characters that are 18 or older. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to real persons, places or events is purely coincidental. The below is not intended to serve as a template for real life sexual encounters or relationships, nor should it be regarded as such. Stay safe, happy and healthy! :-)

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14 • Terminal

The cross pendant on Isabelle's necklace swung around as she splashed her face with cold water. Her faith was straining.

She had just killed a man.

As the crowds flooded onto the street, she knew something was wrong. She grabbed the gun she wasn't supposed to have — the gun Alicia made her buy. Forcing open the door of the Maybach, she started moving through the stampeding mass of bodies.

It wasn't easy, and the people almost crushed her, but she was determined to push through. Then, when she saw her boss and her colleagues locked in a struggle, she knew what she would have to do.

The first shot wounded one of the attackers. The second made him slump to his death.

Firing the third shot, Isabelle wounded a second attacker in the shoulder. She thanked God that not one bullet hit the crowd... She knew she was lucky.

Everyone got away in the end, which started the longest 12 hours of the young American's life. She would surely go to prison, although they managed to flee the scene before the police arrived. Then, there was her boss... Surgery had been quick and dirty — supervised by a top doctor who pledged to keep quiet and agreed to operate at a private plane terminal.

Isabelle couldn't think straight as everything swirled around in her head. All thoughts of losing everything, but without any regrets. She would do it again if it meant protecting her people.

"He's waking up," Alicia interrupted, causing her partner to stop washing her face. "He'll want to see you before you leave."

"Have we decided where I'll be hiding out?" Isabelle asked.

Alicia shook her head; she never envisioned having to spirit away one of her colleagues.

There was no plan for this.

"You know it's fucking cousin, right?" Isabelle spat. "There's no way we leaked. The only other person who knew—"

"We'll focus on that later—"

"I'll kill her!"

"We can't be sure, Izzy. Now, c'mon, he'll kill me if he doesn't get to see you."

Isabelle nodded, turning off the tap and checking herself in the mirror. Professional conduct still applied, and she wanted to look neat for the boss. More than that, she wanted to show him she wasn't scared.

As they entered the 'recovery room', the two women stood on either side of their wounded principal. He was sweating, his eyes tearing up, his face red, his words slurred... "My sisters! Where are they?!"

"We sent a dozen men to go protect them," Alicia assured, gently squeezing a shoulder.

Isabelle reached for Oliver's hand as tears started flooding his eyes.

He was delirious.

"Tell them I love them, please! I don't... I don't have a will..."

"You're not going anywhere, sir."

Oliver grumbled, then whimpered; his skin was glowing bright red, and his eyes looked dull.

Alicia was enraged. "Doctor! What the fuck is going on?! You said he was out of the woods."

A wrinkled old man with a full head of silver hair approached. He hardly looked at his patient as he spoke. "He's perfectly fine. Aren't you, Mr Orwell? We've had to be aggressive with your treatment; that's all you're feeling."

As Oliver continued to writhe, Isabelle felt tears rolling down her cheeks. "Boss, I need to go away for a bit."

"No! No... Why?"

"We kept a gun in the car for emergencies. It was unlicensed, but I had to use it... Don't worry, boss, I didn't waste a single shot, and I'd do it again."

Oliver's breathing was becoming even more laboured. Suddenly he shut his eyes as if the room grew brighter and burned them. He looked motion-sick, like he was trying to overcome nausea and dizziness. Isabelle and Alicia watched as he gnashed his teeth, responding to what must've been terrible pain.

Again, the silver-haired doctor insisted it was all fine.

Speaking through the agony, Oliver begged Alicia, "Let Isabelle come with us! Wherever we're going to hide, she can hide there too."

"No, sir," she answered. "We're going as far south as possible. We need to split everyone up for a little while, just to be safe."

"No!" Oliver bellowed, shaking his bed as he seethed.

"It's for the best, sir. Everyone will be safer for it!"

For a moment, it seemed like Oliver wanted to say more. It was like his tongue was stuck in his mouth, and both women grew even more concerned. Suddenly, a young trauma doctor who'd been called to assist joined them. He was furious.

"What the hell is going on here?!"

"Nothing to worry about. He's perfectly fine," the older doctor repeated.

"Fine?! Are you insane?"

"Listen here; I have decades more experience—"

"Experience treating rich people for scrapes! I've worked with hundreds of stab victims, and this isn't how it's supposed to go. Sedate him before the pain kills him! You're torturing the man!"

As the medical team scrambled, Isabelle felt Oliver's grip on her hand loosen.

15 • Assegai

I watched the old ceiling-fan spin dust around the bedroom that had become our sanctuary.

When we arrived, it was clear our hideaway had been abandoned a long time ago. Yet, even among the sparse furniture and cobwebs, I felt safer than I could in any penthouse or mansion.

As I turned onto my side to get a little extra sleep, my sister's finger hooked my collar. She pulled it down, leaving a secret kiss that seemed a silent prayer of thanks. It wasn't a romantic kiss, nor was it the kind of kiss often shared between siblings. It was an Elle kiss: A kiss only she could give, and only I could receive. Our kiss.

She hadn't left my side, being anxious and afraid, and wanting to care for me. Meanwhile, Tecla was hidden away on another continent with our mother. She lost the coin-toss between twins that decided who goes where. My security bosses insisted on splitting us up. They were certain my enemy could only attack one place at a time.

Enemy... I'd become a man with enenies.

Elle draped her leg over mine and wrapped an arm around my torso, pulling herself closer. "I bet you can't wait to see Tecla. Then you'll have both your sisters pampering you."

"It almost makes getting stabbed worth it," I smiled weakly. "You two have never been apart this long... It must be agony."

Resigned whimpering was all the answer I needed. My little sister rolled out of our embrace and got to her feet before rounding the bed to open the curtains.

At first, Elle peeked through the thick antique drapes. A slither of sunlight cut across my face — peppered into my eyes like a sticky glue that kept them from opening. I pushed through the discomfort, and soon my vision was adjusting. I let my body grow heavy and sink into the mattress. The old springs compressed, and I groaned in unison with their metallic clang.

As my eyes focused, I couldn't help but marvel at my sister as I watched the morning sun trace her shape.

"God... You are gorgeous."

Elle laid a hand on her heart and blew me a kiss with the other before stretching. I watched as her legs tensed from her toes to her thighs, ending at the shorts of her tattered summer pyjamas. Like her twin, she was almost lanky, yet she composed herself with a maturity that few could ever muster. Her long inky black hair fell to the small of her back as she cleared rogue strands from her face.

With a yawn, she gripped the room's curtains and split them apart to reveal a green valley outside. As I adjusted to the new light, Elle clambered over me, settling her slim-strong body against my frame.

The world beyond our enclave consisted of hills and mountains in shades of green and yellow. It was all garden paths and god-sculpted topography.

We were just outside Cape Town, South Africa, on a wine farm that had seen better days. Watching the world through the dirty glass, I could smell the sweetness of the sunbaked soil. In a way, our place between the rocks and dirt was limitless. In another, the shadows cast a net that boxed us in.

As much as I enjoyed being in Elle's arms, I had a long day ahead of me. I allowed myself the luxury of a few more minutes in bed before slowly rising to my feet. As my back straightened, I felt a little better about life than I had the day before.

It was the feeling of recovery — the feeling of a body healing.

Elle decided she'd be staying in bed for a while longer as I padded to the kitchen on bare feet.

The rest of the winery was much like my bedroom. Dilapidated.

This place was not as glamorous as the London townhouse, but it told its own story. In truth, I'd never seen the farm listed on the documents I trawled through for the inheritance. That's how much I had — how many material things I possessed — that 'forgetting' a whole swathe of land seemed almost trivial.

I walked past a bank of wood-framed windows that looked out over the other side of the farm. I caught sight of the vines in the distance that seemed so lush in contrast to the house itself. I could even spot a couple of horses that seemed well cared for by the handful of workers that roamed the grounds.

Reaching the kitchen, I found Alicia prepping our regular breakfast: toast and eggs. My protector wore thick make-up to conceal bruises she'd sustained on my behalf. By her standards, she was casually dressed, wearing jeans and a rather masculine shirt. The clothes didn't make her look severe or less feminine, and the smile she gave me was soft. Sweet.

She had saved my life. She kept me safe.

A wooden cane leaned against the kitchen counter. It was another sign of Alicia's injuries, but she never used the thing in front of me. Pride made her pretend her ribs didn't hurt, or maybe she just didn't want to worry me.

"Good morning, sir," she greeted, bringing over a tray of Rooibos tea.

"By now, we should be on a first-name basis."

"No... That wouldn't be appropriate."

There was no need to argue. Despite the formalities of our relationship, we'd spent the last few days eating at the same table. I drank from the steaming cup of tea. The red and sweet liquid was therapeutic, settling me into the day.

Alicia started our morning with good news. "Scotland Yard has taken responsibility for shooting the men who attacked us."

"But it was Isabelle—"

"Not according to the UK government. The Home Secretary told the Commons it was a drug-related incident and that a police armed response team arrived within minutes, killing the assailants."

"So, Isabelle's in the clear?!"

"Well, there's a cover-up," Alicia shrugged. "I don't know why... So, I want her to lie low for a few more weeks."

"Does any of this make sense to you?"

Alicia shook her head. She couldn't offer answers, but she did produce one piece of new information. "This might be hard to watch," she said, handing me her phone.

It was CCTV footage from the night of the attack. The sequence opened on the street, time-stamped when we should've arrived in the area. One of our attackers was on his phone, coordinating with someone. His friends seemed to be loitering near the edge of the frame, but you couldn't see their faces.

The video cut forward to when we arrived. One man checks where we park while two slip into the club. Now, I was looking at an interior camera with eyes on the dance floor. The men try to open the door to the service corridor but fail. Yet, just as they're walking away, we open it from the other side so I could get to a bathroom... We walked right into them — we made it easy.

I made it easy.

Putting the phone down, I didn't want to watch the actual attack. I didn't want to relive the absolute horror of those sights and sounds.

"They had intelligence," I inferred. "Who were they on the phone with? Are we any closer to finding out?"

"The Mayfair house has been swept for bugs twice, and everyone who could've leaked — including Isabelle and me — were with people throughout the night. All we have is this... We know the attackers were part of a specific street gang. One that keeps exotic pets and coats their blades—"

"Yes, I know," I grumbled.

Alicia sat back in her chair, watching as I gripped the spot I'd been knifed. I cringed instinctively. I grit my teeth and must've looked quite insane as I tried to regain my composure.

"Sorry... It's hard hearing about it. Sometimes—"

"It's like the pain isn't there until you're reminded of it?"

"That's exactly it," I agreed humbly, knowing she felt it too. "Alicia... if Natasha is somehow involved in all this, it will kill me."

My protector was sympathetic, but there was nothing she could say to guide me either way. We knew very little, and the police cover-up meant we might never know anything more.

"At least we can now assume your former employer was murdered," I speculated. "She didn't fall — she was pushed — and much like our attack, the police covered it up."

"Yes, sir," Alicia agreed. "I wasn't there for her, in the end..."

It felt like the stoic brunette's hand was inching towards mine for a second, but it never quite got there. We took a shared breath — in sync and solemnity — before moving on.

There were some things we could still control, and Alicia started briefing me on my day. "The doctor will see you. Then you have the meeting with my friend... Your cousin will arrive during. Don't worry; our people will help her get settled."

"And when do you see the doctor?" I asked.

"Only tomorrow, sir. I'm already feeling much better."

Alicia exhaled contently as she turned her attention to her plate, and we ate together. There was something very familiar about how we could live in the same space. It was seamless — two people joined at the hip by strange events outside their control.

I wanted to theorise more about the attack, but the sound of Elle leaving the bedroom took my mind off it.

Every morning, Alicia would stand when my sister walked into the kitchen. It was less a show of respect and more a sign of the tension between them. It's not something my bodyguard would do for me, but she knew I didn't have those expectations. She knew she didn't have to win my favour — she had it, eternally.

The same wasn't true for Elle, who distrusted everyone and everything.

As sweet as my little sister was to me, she could be harsh on other people. This was especially true of other women, who seemed to remind her of our mother and pose a threat. Joining us, she appeared ultra-alert. She sat down and started eating, only to drop her cutlery after a few seconds.

"When are you leaving, Alicia?"

"I... Uhm..."

"Are you still leaving?" Elle asked uncomfortably.

Not sure what was happening, I tried to get to the bottom of things. "What's this about leaving?"

Alicia's ears turned red, and her usually calm exterior shattered. "It's something I mentioned to your sister, sir," she explained. "Because I failed... Because you got hurt—"

"Oh, shut up!" I snapped, rubbing the back of my neck as my mind briefly blanked. When I came to my senses again, I realised just how loud I must've shouted because both women seemed shocked.

I wasn't aiming to be crass, but the stinging pain in my torso and the prospect of losing Alicia put me on edge. I was mad at Elle for being so subtly bitchy, mad at Alicia for wanting to leave, and mad at the world for existing. Despite all that, I knew these two deserved better than my anger.

Taking a deep breath, my eyelids became heavy with remorse.

"You didn't fail," I assured. "You wanted me to wear a stab vest — I refused. You wanted me to stay home — I refused. If you intend on resigning, I won't accept it. Then again, if you feel I'm too difficult a customer—"

"No! No... Not at all, sir. Uhm... Maybe we both messed up?"

My sister wasn't pleased, but she wasn't the type to throw a tantrum. Instead, she awkwardly pressed her case, clearly wanting Alicia gone. "She's already found a potential replacement who'll arrive this morning."

Alicia confirmed it. "Yes, I was going to introduce her to you after breakfast."

"Her?!" Elle scoffed, breaking her soft demeanour with uncharacteristic irritation. "Why does it have to be a her? Since when do so many women work as bodyguards?! Isn't it a little butch?"

I rolled my eyes. Alicia wasn't butch... Her baby face and dusky green eyes made her seem soft and girlish. She was cute... Pretty. Though, her profession drove her to dress unremarkably and style her dark brown hair in neat and practical ways. I could never get the measure of her — sometimes she was tall, and sometimes she seemed shorter. She moved a bit like a shadow. My shadow.

My sister's tone was beginning to irritate me, and I felt it was my job to settle her down. I put a hand on hers and gave a stern look that told her everything she needed to know.

Although she flicked her hair and huffed, Elle followed my lead. After all, I was her big brother and that counted for a lot. Without a dad and with an absent mother, I was the one who always had to 'discipline' my sisters. At the very least, I was responsible for teaching them manners.

I never wanted to lord over the twins, but a stern hand was necessary every so often. With Elle settled, I started dealing with the situation she had helped create.

"I'll meet with the new protection agent," I conceded. "She can fit in somewhere. Who's my current head of security?"

"You don't have one," Alicia responded.

"No wonder I got stabbed."

"Yes."

"Well, the job is yours. The new agent will take over your old position, and you'll focus on management."

Alicia seemed excited. She hid it well — her cool facade restored after my sister's shock tactics. Turning to Elle, my new head of security understood and accepted her responsibilities immediately, flashing an almost motherly smile my sister's way.

"Why don't you and I go do something while Mr Orwell meets my friend?"

"Like what?" Elle frowned. "I actually wanted to go to the meeting with him."

"Well, if Mr Orwell allows, I would like to take you to the firing range. It's on the farm, so we won't have to go far, and it could help to learn a little about self-defence."

I approved. "That sounds like it could be good for you, sis! Please be careful, though... Don't shoot each other."

Elle's animosity toward Alicia seemed to fade at a rate of knots. She looked delighted at the prospect of using a gun for the first time, and Alicia left to make the preparations.

I was happy enough with a ceasefire but wanted to ensure things stayed on the right track. I leaned in to make a little privacy bubble for us and spoke softly, taking my sister's hand.

"Don't feel threatened—"

"I don't," Elle mumbled shyly.

"Then why are you so rude to her?"

"I... I didn't mean to be rude, Olly. I promise... It's just... Everything is so confusing, and there are so many new people."

I understood. "I think you'll learn to love her. She's very nice, and she takes good care of us. Enjoy your afternoon with her, sis."

"Okay... I'll try."

I smiled, pulling my sister in for a hug and leaving a brotherly kiss on her forehead. "Love you, Elle."

"I'm glad you're alive," my sister sniffled, and I held her closer.

"It's going to be alright. It'll all be okay."

Elle gave me one final squeeze before heading for the door. "Do you want me to make you some more tea before I leave?"