A Whole New World | Octavia Blake [1]

Chapter 49

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Addison

It all made sense. The look she remembered when Finn introduced her to Raven at the Pod's crash site —that had made Addie uncomfortable—, down to the way she and Raven had just clicked, like they've known each other their whole lives. Even Finn knew something: the weird, familiar looks he gave when they first met —like he's looked into the same pair of brown eyes—, and how he turned on the "big brother" act when searching for seaweed to save Jasper. He tested the waters —and he was right.

But how? Was she never her mother's true daughter? Or even her father's real daughter?

She's had memories of her parents since she was able to comprehend what memories were. Are they her real parents at all? There's only one attribute that Addison's questioned all her life: where did the colour of her eyes come from?

Her mother's were the colour of —at the time— what she thought Earth's clear skies would look like, while her father's were grey.

No. She shook her head in denial. She's too much like them both. Maybe Raven had it all wrong. Raven had to be wrong . . .

"That's not possible," Addison's tears dried to her cheeks, the entirety of her body ridged and tense. She repeated the denial shake of her head.

"What do you want to talk about? I mean, we hardly know each other. So what could we possibly have to talk about?"

"More than you think."

"From what I heard, you weren't so short-tempered. He was wrong."

The words echoed in the back of her mind. She had almost forgotten about all Raven had said to her the night Lincoln was taken captive. "Will said the only person you ever lost your temper on was Murphy," Raven started, "but if he saw you now, he'd know that's not true anymore . . ."

"Are you—" Addison cut herself. What she wants to say versus what words zoomed a thousand miles per second in her head, intersect and confused the muscles of her lips to speak. She wants to —needs to— say something, anything, but she can't form the right words. "Raven . . ." her voice cracked, "I'm so sorry . . ."

"Don't be." Raven never missed a beat. "I'd do it again if it meant keeping you safe."

Addison turns her head down and plants her knees on the floor of the dropship, elbows resting on the surface Raven is laid on. She uses both hands to clasp around Raven's one and places her forehead on top of them. "How did you talk to him?" her voice muffled, then she looks up at Raven and rests her chin on top of their hands, "How were you able to talk to my father? To find him?" Addison asked louder. She has to know some of the truth. Her father and everybody on the Ark are dead. Raven's the only one who knows the truth that's alive.

"He found me," Raven hissed softly when she moved wrong.

"Raven."

Addison snaps her head to the voice—Finn. He holds the stretcher vertically between him and Dawson. "What's going on?" Addison asked, getting to her feet but still holding onto Raven's hand, tight.