What’s left isn’t Nate.
What’s left is smiling.
My whole body goes numb.
“You should go,” I say to Cal, my voice coming out strange and thin. “Right now. You need to leave.”
Cal doesn’t move. He’s watching Nate with the focused stillness of a man who’s walked into an ambush and knows it. His hand drifts toward his hip, toward the weapon I know he keeps holstered under his jacket.
“Mia,” he says carefully, “step away from him.”
“Cal, just go. Please.”
“I’m not leaving you here with?—”
Nate laughs, the sound cold, bitter and slightly unhinged. “With who? America’s savior? Its golden boy? Don’t you know who I am? I’m the safest person on the planet, Cal.”
He sets the jewelry box down on the dresser with exaggerated care, his movements slow and deliberate, and when he turns back to face us his smile has widened into something that makes the numbness take hold in my chest, freezing my heart in place.
“Cal,” he says, tasting the name. “The colleague. Thefriend.” His head tilts to one side, birdlike and predatory, like a hawk. “The one who’s in love with her.”
Swiftly, Cal draws his gun, has it pointed at Nate.
“Don’t move.” His voice is steady, professional, but I can see the sweat beading at his hairline. He knows what Nate is. He’s read the files. He knows a 9mm won’t stop him, knows that nothing short of a direct shot to the brainstem might slow him down, and even then it’s not a guarantee. But right now, Vanguard is not in his suit and doesn’t have special protection and I know Cal is willing to take those odds.
Nate doesn’t flinch at the weapon pointed at him. Doesn’t even look at the gun. His eyes stay fixed on Cal’s face, that terrible smile never wavering.
“Go ahead,” he says. “Shoot me. I’d love to see you try.”
“Nate, stop, please.” I step between them, my hands up, my heart slamming against my ribs so hard I can feel it in my throat. “This isn’t you. Whatever’s happening right now, whatever voice is in your head, you have to fight it. You have to?—”
“Move out of the way, Mia,” Cal says sharply, his eyes laser focused on Nate. “Get out of the line of fire.”
“No one’s firing anything!” I’m shouting now, my voice cracking. “Both of you, just stop, justwait?—”
Nate’s smile falters, just for a second, but enough that I see a glimpse of something else underneath, confusion, maybe, or fear.
Yes, Nate, come back, fight it, you’re still in there,please?—
Then it’s gone and that unnerving blankness is back, like his soul has been wiped clean.
“You know what I think, Mia?” Nate says, conversational, like we’re discussing celebrity news. “I think he came back tonight because he couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand knowing you were with me. Couldn’t stand that you chosemeover him.” He takes a step forward. Cal’s finger tightens on the trigger in response. “I think he’s been waiting years for you to change your mind, and now he knows you never will, and it’s eating him alive.”
“That’s not—” Cal starts, his jaw going tight, his finger steady on the trigger.
Nate goes on. “I think he tells himself he’s here for the mission. Foryou. But really he just wanted to see it for himself. Wanted to look me in the eye and know that I’m the one who gets to touch you. The one who gets to taste you.” Another step. The barrel of Cal’s gun is a foot away from Vanguard’s head. “The one who gets to make you scream.”
“Last warning.” Cal’s voice has gone cold now, all the fear locked away somewhere deep. This is the operative talking, the killer, the man who’s put down threats before and will do it again. “Stand down or I fire.”
Nate stops.
The room holds its breath.
I can hear the blood rushing in my ears, can feel the robe clinging to my sweat-damp skin, can smell gunmetal and Cal’s cologne and something sharp and electric, like the air before a lightning strike.
“Nate,” I whisper. “Please.”
He looks at me.
