“About an hour.”
Reyna rubbed her eyes and then swished her legs off of the table. She jumped down and stretched out her sore limbs. She felt none of the pain from the explosion. Her hand went to the back of her head. No goose egg. They’d put her into sweatpants and a black T-shirt. Her old clothes were probably long gone. Destroyed in the blast.
“Oh, the cure.”
Meghan winced and sat back. Beckham gestured to the coolersitting on the floor. Inside all the tiny vials of liquid were shattered. Glass lay at the bottom with a few dribbles of the gold liquid mixed with some kind of ice to keep it cold.
“No,” she whispered. “All of it’s gone?”
“It must have shattered and drained before I got to it.”
Reyna put her head between her knees. All of that work. Everything Washington had done to get them a cure—a weapon to use against Visage—and now it was gone.
“And Washington?”
Beckham shook his head. “He never left the mansion.”
“We’re so fucked,” Meghan said.
“Was there a backup? He said that he was going to try to back it up,” Reyna said.
“It’s gone, Little One.”
“No,” she whispered. “It can’t be. He said…”
Meghan shook her head. “I checked. Zoya checked. It looks like it’s gone. He didn’t finish in time.”
“All that research. Everything he’d been working on just gone. No cure. None of the research on our blood match or on Jodie’s blood.” Reyna closed her eyes for a minute, took a deep breath, and then straightened. “But we can’t change what happened. I think we knew all along what we needed to do. We were trying to find an edge to use against our opponent. Well, we found one.” She faced Beckham. “We’re blood matched. If that doesn’t throw his chess game out of whack, nothing will.”
“What are you suggesting?” Meghan asked.
“I go in and face Harrington alone. I’m the only one who can get close enough.”
“Are you serious?” Meghan gasped.
“He might have an antidote, but nothing can substitute for the real thing. And it’ll be a point of pride for him that he has me after I’ve evaded him for so long. I can do this.”
Reyna braced herself, expecting the worst from Beckham. Hissilence was weighted. It typically held more power than most people’s words. His first priority was her safety, but if there was only one way to save the world, she’d take it. One more life for millions.
“You’re right,” Beckham said, staring down at the floor. Then he finally met her gaze, and she felt calm resolve resonate from him.
She blinked twice. “Come again?”
One side of his lips upturned as if he found her surprise humorous. But he nodded at her as if they were on the same page. As if he understood where she was coming from and what this would cost them both.
“You really think I can do this?” It was different hearing it from him. She’d been expecting a fight. He’d always fought her on anything that could harm her. This acceptance was new. It was powerful.
“You can get close to Harrington,” he said, taking her hand. “That much we know for a fact. No one else is going to get that close. And we’ll need that advantage if we want to end this.”
Her heart stuttered at his words. His confidence.
He opened himself up to her and their connection bloomed into life. She felt his fear. It was there of course. But also his deep love, his careful calculation, and his determination to succeed. He believed in her. He really did.
“Plus,” he continued, “I’ll be there with you every step of the way. I trust you.”
A slow smile stretched across Reyna’s face. Trust. What a magical word.
And with that he leveled the playing field.
