“Absolutely not.” He was quick to respond. “Your father always spoke as if you were the only one, and there has been no reason for us to doubt that.”

“I doubt he didn’t know. Why wouldn’t he have told us—told me?”

“I wish I knew, because I don’t see how keeping that information from you or any of us would do any good. Not knowing made you vulnerable.”

It could’ve also gotten me killed.

“How old did he appear?” Thierry asked.

“Roughly my age, maybe older. I’m not sure. What I don’t understand is why he even exists. I was created by my father to be used as the ultimate weapon in a battle—this battle. How could there be another, and how could he be...evil? Because he definitely was not a friend.”

Thierry was quiet for so long, unease formed a heavy ball in my stomach.

“What?” I gripped my phone.

His heavy sigh came through the phone. “There’s a lot we never told you, because Matthew and I and your mother didn’t think it was relevant.”

“What do you mean by a lot, and what does it have to do with what’s happening?”

“It’s not that we knew of another Trueborn, but we knew why Trueborns were a thing of the past,” he explained. “It’s why some Wardens who know the history would be wary of any Trueborn. And why Ryker was so easily convinced to turn against a Trueborn.”

My stomach flipped. I was not expecting his name to come up. “You’re going to need to explain this to me, because Trueborns and Wardens are like best friends forever. Wardens are the Protectors of Trueborns, and Ryker was afraid of what I could do—”

“He was afraid of what you could become,” Thierry corrected.

“What?”

“I wish your father had explained this to you. It should come from him.”

“Yeah, well, as you know, my father is about as useful as you’re being when it comes to information,” I snapped, patience running thin. “We don’t keep in touch and have dinners on Sundays. I can count on a few fingers the times I’ve seen him in person.”

“I know. It’s just...” There was a gap of silence. “I wish you were here so we could talk face-to-face. So you understand why we never believed this could be an issue for you. That you’re good, to your very core.”

The unease intensified as his last words settled on me.

“Trueborns are only half angel. Your other half is human, and because of that, you have free will. The choice to do great things with your abilities or to cause incredible harm with them,” he said.

“I’m not Spider-Man,” I mumbled.