“I’m excellent at convincing people of things,” I reply. “You are too, obviously. But you also tend to make people nervous.”
“Only the ones who should be,” she chimes in.
I reach the next corner and stop at the light. “What are you planning on wearing tonight?” I ask, almost too casually.
“Something slightly inappropriate,” she says. “You’ll approve.”
“We’ll see,” I say as the light changes. I then step off the curb to walk across the street to continue on to my destination. “I’ll meet you there later, Leigh.”
“Don’t be late,” she says and hangs up first.
I slip the ear piece off of my lobe and slide it into my coat pocket.
I finally getto where I’m going thirty minutes later.
I move down the hall in the building, shoes slightly squeaking against the polished concrete with each step I take, until I reach the room at the end of the corridor.
Faris is seated at the metal table in the middle of the room, sleeves rolled up and coffee untouched thus far.
He doesn’t look up when I step inside.
“You’re late,” he says. “And you ignored my calls.”
I take the chair across from him and ease into it carefully.
I grimace as the pain over my chest stings.
“I was occupied,” I reply through gritted teeth.
He still doesn’t glance up and just hums as he opens up the folder in front of him. The first few photos stop me in my tracks immediately.
Leigh.
One photo is taken from across the street, likely throughanother business’s window. She is stepping out of a black car with her sunglasses on and her chin lifted.
“What exactly am I looking at?”
He shifts in his seat, leaving the folder open in front of me. “Our next assignment.”
I snort quietly. “No. Her father was the assignment and then some kid with a hero complex decided to end that story early.”
He smiles at that, but not because he’s happy. “Rivera, you don’t get to pretend you didn’t see this coming. You’ve been circling that family for years. You know better than anyone that she’s not as naive as she wants people to believe.”
“You’re really aiming for that Christmas bonus, aren’t you, Faris?”
“Come on, man. She gained power with her father out of the picture,” he counters. “That buys her motive.”
I lean back, placing my hands in my lap. “You’re reaching.”
He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a voice recorder, placing it between us like it’s the final chess piece. He then presses a button, starting the recording.
It plays static at first before shifting into a laugh.
Finnic’s.
“What?” Finnic’s voice says. “Was your real father too emotionally abusive? You couldn’t just pack your shit and leave like a fucking adult?”
There’s a pause.
