Winter snorted. As he took note of the room again, he now realized that behind the dining façade was some unusual technology. The walls were fitted, floor to ceiling, with screens. As he stood there, bits of text drifted into existence on the screen nearest to him, spelling out his name and profile.
Winter Young
19 Years Old
Birthplace: Los Angeles, CA, USA
Ethnicity: Chinese American
The text went on, displaying everything from his home address to his social security number, from the restaurant he most frequented to the last phone number he’d dialed. His hackles rose.
Sauda nodded at the screens. “Avalon, our headquarters’ friendly neighborhood AI, just likes to run through the data of all newcomers to the building. But don’t worry. None of this information is new to us.”
As Winter was debating whether this made him feel better or worse, the text on the screens disappeared, replaced with a single line.
Good morning, Winter Young! Welcome to Panacea.
“What if Avalon goes rogue?” Winter said before looking back at the agents.
“You’ve watched too many movies. Sit down,” Sauda said, waving him toward the table’s empty chair.
Winter’s stomach rumbled in response. He took a hesitant seat in front of a bamboo steamer of bao, a little dish of gleaming tea eggs, and a bowl of hot porridge, its surface still bubbling gently as if it’d just come from the kitchen.
“My favorite brunch?” he said, glancing back up at Sauda. Just how much did they know about him?
“What a coincidence.” Sauda smiled, then glanced at the third, unspeaking person sitting beside her. “I’d like to introduce you to Sydney Cossette. She will be your bodyguard.”
He turned his attention to her.
So this was the Jackal, the Panacea agent that they were sending in with him. She was a pale girl with a wavy, blond bob who looked like she must be around his own age, dressed in black jeans and a black bomber jacket with the crest pin on it, her arms folded across her chest.
At first glance, she seemed like someone who was probably olderthan their appearance. In fact, if they hadn’t all been sitting in Panacea’s headquarters, he would’ve thought she was one of his former classmates. He would’ve done a double take because she had that kind of face: small and heart-shaped, almost innocently pretty if not for her eyes. Those eyes were what made him hesitate: dark blue and stone cold, brooding underneath a pair of full, furrowed brows that gave Niall’s a run for their money. There was an entire world in there—secrets and knowledge and opinions he didn’t know and was a little afraid to ask about. Five years he’d spent in front of crowds all over the world, and yet somehow her stare unnerved him. She noticed him in a way he wasn’t used to, as if she was methodically memorizing everything about him, as if he were less a person and more a pile of data.
“You look different in person,” she said to him in greeting, her voice slightly raspy and deeper than he expected.
“Nice to meet you, too,” he replied dryly. “How long have you been with the Panacea Group?”
“Long enough to be on time,” she replied.
“Sorry,” Winter muttered sarcastically, annoyed that her words stung. “I got lost going through the fridge tunnel.”
Sydney turned to look at Niall. “You’re right,” she said with a completely blank face. “He is funny.”
“Be polite, Sydney, and eat your risotto,” Niall admonished, his brows scrunching lower. He glanced at his partner. “Go ahead, Sauda.”
“You’re currently inside a secured information room,” Sauda told him. “We call it a SIR. What that means is no information revealed in here enters or leaves this room without special clearance. The walls are designed to prevent the transmittance of any signals outside of those approved on our agency equipment. Even your brunch today is classified information. So don’t go raving about our porridge to your manager.”
Winter studied her face. “What if I’d said no?” he asked.
“To telling your manager about our porridge?”
“To your request in the car.” He frowned. “You told me an awful lot in there without any guarantee that I’d work with you.”
She smiled a little. “We’ve been studying you for a bit longer than that night. Months, actually. We’ve been gathering intel on you, your team, your music, and your beliefs. What matters to you. We take risks, Mr. Young, but calculated ones—and when we drove you off in that car, we knew we were coming into your life during a time when you were questioning it. Makes you an ideal potential asset. Avalon calculated the chance of your successful recruitment at ninety-three percent.”
Winter opened his mouth a little, then closed it. His head buzzed with the number. They had been psychoanalyzing him for months.
“And how accurate are Avalon’s calculations?” he finally said. On a whim, he glanced over his shoulder at the walls. “Avalon, am I cute?”
