She shakes her head. The statue drops from her hand, landing with a thud. “Didn’t even get near me. You handled everything.” A flicker of a grin crosses her face. “And even if they had…we hurt them more.”
We.
That word hits more forcefully than any punch.
We. Us.
A unit. Partners.
Terror rips through me, cleaving my chest in half.
I’ve always preferred to work solo to minimize the risk and not dilute the mission.
I break things. I have no algorithm for a partner I can’t bring myself to destroy.
My dread must show on my face or in my stance because Jordan regards me with a tilted head and too-bright eyes.
Before either of us can say more, a new sound cuts in.
A piercing, metallic scream.
Fire alarm.
I sigh. “Shit.”
Chapter 34
Jordan
Water explodes from the ceiling, spraying down in stinging, chemical-sharp sheets that soak my burgundy dress, plaster the cloth to my skin, and shatter the illusion of the evening. My hair falls flat and sticks to my neck.
In the downpour, stripped clean of all pretense, I simply stand here blinking. This isn’t the homecoming I envisioned.
Then I spot my mother in the doorway. Even now, despite her ruined gown and the hair clinging to her skull, her silhouette telegraphs perfect control. Her face appears ghostly and severe.
She doesn’t falter when she spies the bodies on the carpet. Her eyes simply sweep across the room and take inventory.
Her expression contains no fear or surprise, just calculation.
I cover my ears and raise my voice over the howling alarms. “What’s happening?”
“I set them off.” Her gaze flicks to the sprawled bodies, then back to me. Still unshaken.
Kirill enters the light. He’s drenched, water sluicing off his suit, and yet he seems untouched by the chaos. “I’ll send people to clean this up.”
My mother’s voice could snap glass. “You absolutely will not.”
Part of me wants to cackle.
I’d forgotten what she’s like when she’s cornered. Beneath her polished edges, she’s got a steel backbone. I used to consider her cold.
Maybe I just didn’t want to understand the need for her rigid spine.
I’m starting to wonder if she set the alarms off to distract the bad guys or cover our escape.
Her face gives nothing away. And I’m not dumb enough to ask further questions when we should be fleeing.
Kirill and Mom, two predators circling the same ground, lock eyes.
