“For training me to think for myself?”
The woman waved a frustrated hand once in the air. “For caring too much.”
In her answer, Sydney thought she heard the hint of someone else Sauda once was—someone with a hotter head and quicker temper, who wore her heart on her sleeve. Sydney studied her, but the woman didn’t say more.
“And is that my last mission?” Sydney asked quietly after a while.
“Last mission?” Sauda answered.
Sydney hesitated a long moment. Her heart was hammering now. “My lungs,” she said. “I didn’t tell you. I’m sure Niall knows by now, too.”
When Sauda didn’t answer, Sydney turned her eyes up at the woman. There, she saw a soft expression.
“Sydney,” she said gently. “We know.”
Sydney blinked. “You knew about my condition?”
“Why do you think I always taught you that it’s better to be smart than fast?” Sauda gave her a smile. “I wove breathing therapy into all of your training.”
All this time, Sydney had boxed herself in tighter and tighter, feeling the suffocation of her secrets as surely as she felt the strain in her lungs. Thinking she had somehow managed to keep everything hidden. They knew. They had always known.
“Why did you keep me on?” she murmured.
“This is not some kind of temporary work-for-hire job,” Sauda answered. “You are one of us now. That means Niall and I made a joint decision on everything that comes with you, that the parts of you that may challenge us are overshadowed by the parts of you that can benefit this agency.” Sauda fixed her gaze on Sydney. “You may operate on your own in the field, but you are never truly alone.”
Sydney swallowed hard. She could feel the weight in her throat, the threat of tears building in her eyes.
“The future doesn’t have to haunt your present, Sydney,” Sauda said. “And neither does your past. I hope that someday you’ll be able to embrace this. Understand?”
Sydney cleared her throat, forcing back her tears so that she could answer. “Yes, ma’am,” she whispered.
Sauda looked over at her, studied her expression, and gave her a small smile before looking away. “Remind me,” she said, “to tell you about all the trouble I got into as a new Panacea agent.”
Sydney looked quickly at her. “What do you mean, as a new Panacea agent?”
“I mean, my stories might help you get your footing.”
She was talking about the promotion, about Sydney moving from an associate to a full operative, with a permanent, dedicated team and a partner.
Sydney laughed, then hurriedly wiped away her tears. She tried to imagine her mentor as a brash, rebellious young operative, going against her orders and causing mayhem. Somehow, it didn’t seem so surprising.
Sauda straightened, a note of formality returning to her voice. “Don’t get too excited yet. I still need to run it past headquarters. And at this point, Niall sounds like he’d rather wrap you in bubble packaging than agree.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And don’t assume you’ll get out of all this with no consequences. When we arrive back in the States, we’ll discuss next steps. I can have youon a plane with me in a few hours. All you need to do is stay in the car, and we’ll head to the airport right now.”
Right now. Without saying another word to Winter. Some of her euphoria wavered, and Sydney felt the sinking disappointment in her stomach. They would leave without warning, disappear from his radar so thoroughly that he would have no way of contacting her again.
Sauda must have sensed her hesitation—or perhaps she caught the way Sydney’s eyes shifted in the direction of the hospital. The building’s front lawn was still clustered with thousands of fans, all eagerly waiting for updates about Winter even though medical staff had come out several times to ask them to disperse.
“Or you can fly back in the morning,” Sauda then added with an understanding nod. “It’ll give you some time to wrap up any personal loose ends you have.”
Personal loose ends.There was a slight emphasis on the words, and it was how Sydney realized Sauda knew about her growing feelings for Winter.
It was also Sauda’s way of telling her that she needed to bid him goodbye.
Of course she should. This happened at the end of every mission—she cut the necessary ties with the people she worked with, and then she went back to her life. She had been trained in how to say farewell a thousand different ways, to a thousand different kinds of people. She was good at it.
