Wordlessly, I hand Madison my helmet. Perhaps it’s my imagination, but she hugs me tighter than she ever has on the ride back.
She follows me from the garage without a word, nervously clacking her nails against each other and chewing on her lower lip. I can’t tell exactly what she’s feeling, but I’m fairly certain that if I’m hoping for genuine contrition and an apology, I’ll be disappointed. And I’m right.
“I know you’re mad,” she starts as soon as the office door closes firmly behind her. “But that went so well! This is the biggest clue we’ve had yet, and we’re so close now!”
The rage that was so sharp moments ago has dulled into something quieter and controlled. “The ends do not justify the means when your life is at risk, Madison.”I shake my head as I drop to the couch. Some Bills promptly stands from his curled position, arching his back in a stretch, and sits, regarding us with sleepy eyes.
“If I hadn’t been there to question him, he never would have spilled thefrijoles.And it’s fine, right? I’m fine. I took precautions. Iloadedmy gun. I knew you were coming, and I knew you’d bring the…” She trails off, then frowns. “Wait, I never sent you that text. Howdidyou know?”
No sense denying it now, I suppose. “I installed cameras in your flat when I was watching you to determine if I wanted to kill you.” I reach out and scratch Some Bills behind the ear when he rubs against my arm.
“That’s…” She falls back a step. “Um… I don’t know exactly how to feel about that.”
“I also watched you masturbate from your closet before we ever even met in person.”
“What?!” she hisses. “Wesley, just because you’re mad at me, that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to be mad at you for something else—”
“Be mad. You ought to be. Because men like me arenot good people,” I say slowly, emphasizing the words. “I don’t know how else to get it through to you. Your life is in danger, and you don’t seem to care.”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course I care. Come on, Wesley—you don’t genuinely think I just charge into things with no regard for my own safety. That’s not what this is about.”
“You’re under my protection—”
“You mean your control,” she snorts.
“—and it’s on me if you get hurt!”
“Stop saying that! It’s not your fault if I get hurt! Stop trying to… take responsibility for my actions! It’s so weird.”
“Itwouldbe my fault. You have no idea.” I blow out a long breath and drop my head into my hands.
The couch shifts under me as Madison drops onto the adjacent cushion, leaning in with a desperate look in her eye. “Then how about you just fucking tell me? Tell me why you won’t let me help you sort the data. Tell me why you’rereally after the General. Tell me what that black notebook you hide in your drawer is. Tell me why you won’t trust me!” she urges, finishing on a cry.
I want to. The guilt that’s been keeping me awake at night for years bubbles to my lips, wanting to spill over and spill out.
Tell her.
God, I want to. I’ve wanted to for ages. But after all this time, I… I don’t know how.
Keeping unnecessary details from Dimitri and Mac is one thing—even if they had known the truth, it wouldn’t have changed anything about what we’ve done or how we did it—but keeping the truth from Madison is quite another. The omission feels much more like a lie with her, and not just because it was my actions—my mistake, my worst shame—that ultimately wrought all this, but because I want nothing more than to have her at my side, bouncing ideas with me and teasing my coding choices. Acting as a partner.Mypartner.
But secrets are tricky things, and they can sit so heavy that it feels like they’re part of you. It’s like a boulder nestled in a perfectly shaped divot—trying to move means working against gravity, and the boulder falls too easily back into place. It belongs in that space, just as the lie belongs, covering and crushing the truth, its weight borne by the conscience.
And the reason for holding back is the same as it ever was. It’s not safe for her to know; it’s not safe foranyoneto know. Especially before I’m certain I’ve found the man I’ve been looking for.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you…” I run my hands through my hair and sit back, glancing over.
She sees the decision on my face, and her shoulders round in defeat. “You say that, and I think you might even believe it, but I know that’s what it is. At the end of the day, though, it’s all about trust. You’ve been keeping the truth from me in one way or another since the very first day we met,” she says softly, eyes downcast. “And I know you had your reasons, and I know you think your reasons are good, but… I have always been honest with you.
“I have always been 100% myself with you—and only becauseyoumade me feel safe enough to do it. You are the only person who’s ever had all of me—not justthe real me, but my loyalty and my respect and my trust. Yousawme. You made me feel seen, even when we’d never even actually seen each other.”
She shakes her head and wipes under her eyes, getting rid of a tear before I can see it. “You were the only person I wasn’t supposed to have to worry about. And now I feel like I never really knew you at all,” she finishes. The final twist of the knife.
My heart cracks, splintering into a thousand pieces, an echo of the broken look on her face. I’ve hurt her. Deeply. And I know only the truth can fix it.
This is the cost of a lie. I always knew there would come a time when the price was too steep. But as much as I want to tell her… it goes against every fiber of my being.
All my life, I’ve controlled the flow of information. It’s what I do. It’s more than what I’m good at—it’s who I am. I’m the spy master. The keeper of secrets. My web of lies is woven from the finest gossamer, hiding in plain sight. It’s exhausting. Isolating. Lonely.
