“Then why S-10?”
“Because the program's director believed the best way to test whether adaptive behavior came from training or temperament was to track the children of selected operators.”
General Harper whispered, “Jesus.”
Aria felt nauseated.
“They studied me?”
“From a distance.”
“Since I was born?”
Thomas nodded.
Cross said, “Not exactly.”
Aria looked at him.
He continued.
“The project ended.”
“Then why were you at my tournament?”
Cross's voice became quieter.
“Because Thomas contacted me.”
Aria turned to her father.
“You sent him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To see whether the old tracking system was still active.”
“You used me as bait?”
“No.”
“You sent a government investigator to a seventeen-year-old girl's tournament to see who else would show up.”
Thomas couldn't deny it.
Aria backed away.
“This is insane.”
“I know.”
“No. You don't.”
She tore the photograph in half.
Thomas flinched.
“I spent my whole life wondering if I was strong enough because you were gone.”
“Aria—”
“I chose fighting because I remembered wrestling with you.”
His face crumpled.
“I joined the military because every story I had about you was about service.”
“I know.”
“I went to war trying to become someone you would've respected.”
“You became more than that.”
“And you were watching.”
Thomas nodded.
“From where?”
“Everywhere I could.”
“Did you watch my first deployment?”
“Yes.”
“My promotion?”
“Yes.”
“When I came home after Kandahar?”
His voice broke.
“Yes.”
Aria had been injured there.
Nothing catastrophic.
Enough to spend weeks recovering.
Her mother had sat beside her hospital bed.
The chair on the other side had been empty.
Aria whispered, “You knew I was hurt.”
“Yes.”
“You didn't come.”
“If I'd come—”
“Stop.”
She turned away.
A thousand soldiers remained silent.
The confrontation no longer belonged to them, and yet they could not leave.
Aria wiped her eyes.
Then she noticed Jackson.
He wasn't watching Thomas.
He was watching the photograph pieces on the ground.
His face looked strange.
“What?” Aria asked.
Jackson looked at her.
“S-10.”
“Yes.”
He shook his head.
“No.”
Thomas said, “Hale.”
Jackson ignored him.
“Sentinel didn't use S designations for candidates.”
Thomas's face went blank.
Cross looked sharply at Jackson.
“What did they use?”
“Numbers only.”
Jackson bent and picked up one half of the photograph.
“S meant something else.”
Thomas stepped toward him.
“Give me that.”
Jackson moved back.
“What did S mean?”
“No one remembers.”
“I do.”
The field seemed to contract around them.
Jackson stared at Thomas.
“S stood for Sponsor.”
Cross's expression changed.
Aria looked between them.
“What does that mean?”
Jackson's voice was barely audible.
“Every candidate had someone inside the command structure who sponsored his selection.”
Aria looked at the baby photograph.
“S-10.”
Then at her father.
“If I wasn't Candidate Ten…”
Jackson finished.
“You were Sponsor Ten.”
Thomas closed his eyes.
Aria stared at him.
“What did I sponsor?”
“You didn't.”
“Then who used my designation?”
Thomas said nothing.
Cross suddenly laughed.
Not mockingly.
In disbelief.
“You actually did it.”
Harper demanded, “Did what?”
Cross looked at Thomas.
“He hid his sponsor under his daughter's identity.”
Aria felt cold.
“What sponsor?”
Thomas whispered, “Aria…”
“Who?”
Jackson stepped closer.
“Every Sentinel candidate was nominated by a senior official.”
Aria's mind raced.
“So my father's sponsor—”
“Was listed as S-10.”
“And he disguised S-10 as me?”
Thomas looked broken.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if anyone discovered who S-10 really was, everything would collapse.”
General Harper's face had gone pale.
Aria noticed.
Then understood.
“No.”
Harper didn't move.
Aria stared at her.