He swallowed hard. Sauda’s voice seemed far away. “Okay,” he heard himself answer.
As they stepped out of the cubicle and back into the rest of the Experimental Design space, he could feel his heart hammering against his ribs. The enormous room felt like it might swallow him whole. There was a cry bottling in his throat, the edges of his eyes threatening to tear up, grief seeking the relief of spilling out. He imagined Artie wandering this place, taking assignments from his superiors, pocketing the tiny vials of toxins without question. Accepting that he might need to use them someday.
“We don’t have much time,” Niall said as he stopped in the hall and turned to face Winter. “So, we’re going to be training you hard in the coming weeks.” He cast a steely gaze between Winter and Sydney, who gave him a sullen look. “I suggest you two become acquainted quickly. You’ll need it. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Sydney replied, and Winter nodded in silence.
As Niall and Sauda walked ahead, Sydney leaned closer to him.
“Just don’t push me,” she said in a low voice. “And don’t get in my way. Do what I tell you, and we’ll get along fine.”
Like hell he was going to cry in front of this girl. He pushed down his tears. “I always appreciate a partnership where I get no say at all,” he replied irritably.
She rolled her eyes at him. “With all due respect, I’ve got a promotion on the line because of you. So come talk to me again when you get some experience.”
Winter stopped in his tracks, and Sydney stopped with him. “You know,” he said, “ever since I set foot inside that meeting room upstairs, I’ve felt like you wanted to cut my head off. I’d love a clue as to why you’re giving me a hard time.”
She stared up at him with such a level look that he felt like she was burning a hole through his head. When she did speak, her voice sounded chipped with ice. “Here’s your clue. I’ve seen plenty of people like you.”
“Like what?” he snapped.
“You cultivated that swagger of yours to hide all your insecurities. But you actually wanted to become famous because you were afraid not to be. Ah, I’m right, aren’t I? The more swagger, the more insecurities. And I’ve learned over time that insecure men are the worst, prone to falling apart at the most inconvenient times.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “And what about you?” he said. “It seems to me like you’re hiding a few things of your own. Bad family life? Mean parents? You must have gotten your shitty attitude from somewhere. But I guess we all have our issues, don’t we?”
He knew he shouldn’t go after her seeking to hurt. The words that came out of his mouth now didn’t sound like him at all. But his heart felt like it had been shredded today, and he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Sydney’s stare went flat, the blue darkening like a storm.
“I wish your brother was still alive,” she said, her voice cool and steady. “Maybe we wouldn’t need you.”
“Don’t bring my brother into this,” he said quietly.
“Then don’t make me,” she called over her shoulder, then waved a leather bracelet in the air. “Also, you need to keep a better eye on your things. I’ll drop it at reception for you.”
She’d somehow managed to slip one of his bracelets right off his wrist, and he hadn’t felt a thing. He glanced down at his arm, then stared at her retreating figure, his mouth open in shock, unable to find the right words. All he could do was watch her walk blithely away without looking back.
6
The New Job
The first assumption about Winter Young that Sydney admitted she’d gotten wrong was that he was foolish.
Stubborn, yes. Dense… yes. But definitely not foolish. The Winter Young that she’d met at the Panacea headquarters had been a boy with a careful eye. She had noticed it about him the instant he stepped inside, the way he’d taken in the room around him and assessed her and the other agents with a single, sweeping gaze, the gestures in his hands and the tilt of his head, the way his gaze jumped from person to person. The anger in his eyes that had sparked when she’d mentioned his brother’s name.
In those moments, she saw right away why Sauda had chosen him.
Now she was lying on her bed in the thickening dark of evening, listening to the faint sound of sirens on the streets far below her apartment, methodically memorizing the contents of a black folder Niall had delivered to her apartment.
The folder contained all the documentation for her new cover as Winter Young’s bodyguard. Fake name (Ashley Coving Miller), fake driver’s license and passport, fake high school diploma, fake passwords and account numbers for Ashley’s supposed direct deposits into a fake personal bank account. An acceptance letter to a real bodyguard company, Elite Securities, that occasionally worked with Panacea, which Sauda had secured for Sydney. There were fake business cards for her in case sheneeded to hand them out, fake photos of fake family members, fake email accounts filled with fake emails dating back to over a year ago, fake phone contacts for fake best friends. A custom-made phone with a bunch of instructions on how to unlock its encryption and secure call lines back to Panacea. There were even fake credit cards that her fictional persona hadn’t paid off, fake expired gym memberships, fake achievement certificates for martial arts, fake gun licenses, and fake rants on fake social media accounts, complete with fake replies posted by fake acquaintances.
Details littering a fake life that made it look real.
Sydney read and reread the papers until she could feel her true identity blurring into this imaginary one. Then she closed her eyes, thoughts of Winter swirling in her mind.
Winter was smart, smarter than she cared for—even if he’d made it too easy for her to slip his bracelet off his wrist. Simpler subjects were less work; they did what they were told and didn’t stray from the plan. Sydney would have to make sure Winter didn’t get any wild ideas of his own during this mission and lead them off on some tangent.
Her second mistaken assumption was that his fame was a gimmick. No, this boy was destined for it. He was a unique kind of beautiful that made her nervous, the kind that didn’t belong at all with the rest of society. Everything about him—dark eyes and thick lashes, the rich black hair that looked effortlessly perfect, the pillow-soft lips, the tattoos that decorated his forearms down to his left hand, the grace in his stride, the lines of his figure—drew the eye. He’d stepped into the meeting room, and it’d felt like his presence had lit the air itself on fire. Those at Panacea who’d seen him that day had been trained to stay calm in all circumstances—but even so, everyone at headquarters was abuzz with news of Winter’s visit.
