“And miss the chance to catch you in a bathrobe? Never.”
The joke falls flat, both our smiles stiff and awkward.
I pour two mini cognacs and hand him one. Our fingers brush during the exchange, and I feel nothing. No spark, no heat, just the familiar warmth of an old friend.
An old friend who told me he loved me. Who offered to live without ever kissing me, just to be with me. Who I turned down because I was scared.
And now I’ve found someone I can kiss.
Someone who isn’t Cal.
“So,” he says, settling into the armchair by the window. “Tell me everything.”
Where the fuck to begin?
I give him the sanitized version.
The cover, the approach, the slow cultivation of access to Vanguard’s world. Then I talk about the warehouse, Marsh meeting with Kozlov, the trafficking connection, the references to “subjects” and “consciousness transfer.” The intelligence that suggests Global Dynamix is building human weapons.
I leave out the parts that matter, like that I’d been fucking Vanguard like silly, that for once I can be with someone intimately without killing them, that I’ve been falling in love with my target the whole bloody time.
Cal listens carefully, asking questions at intervals, clarifying details, probing for gaps in my intel.
“The trafficking pipeline,” he says. “Kozlov mentioned Eastern Europe. Did he specify which routes?”
“No. Just that he controls the flow of refugees, displaced people. The ones nobody notices are gone.”
“And Marsh…did he mention any other partners? Anyone else involved in the supply chain?”
I frown. “No. Why?”
“Just trying to build a complete picture. I mean, wouldn’t you like to know?” He takes a sip of his drink. “What about documentation? Records? Anything that could trace back to…”
“Trace back to what?” I ask.
“To Global Dynamix. Obviously.” He waves a hand dismissively. “I’m just wondering how deep this goes. Whether there are other players we don’t know about yet.”
“Like the government.”
“Yes. Like the government.”
I study him for a moment, taking in the tilt of his mouth, the angle of his brows, the way he’s rubbing his thumb over his forefinger nail. Agents, especially SOE agents, are known for their ability to hide the truth and believe their own lies but we’re also good at recognizing the lies in others. Cal is holding something back from me and I don’t know what it is. But I don’t like it.
“Cal, is there something you’re not telling me?”
He gives me a smile that looks forced. “What do you mean?”
I mean that, I think.None of this feels real.
“I don’t know,” I say, truthfully.
“You’re paranoid, Mia,” he says. “That’s completely understandable too, given everything you’ve been through. But I’m just trying to understand the scope of what we’re dealingwith.” He leans forward, his expression softening. “I’m on your side. You know that. I’llalwaysbe on your side.”
I do know that. At least, I think I do. Cal has been my friend for years. He’s had my back on a dozen missions. He offered me something precious once, and I turned him away, and he stayed anyway, right by my side.
I chalk it up to exhaustion, to the rawness of everything that’s happened. And to the fact that I’m lying to everyone I care about and the weight of it is starting to crush me.
“I know,” I say. “Sorry. Like I said—it’s been a trying mission.”
