She had just put the notebook back when she heard the front door downstairs open and shut.
Every muscle in her froze at the sound of the soft click. Winter? Or was it Eli’s men? Or the men who had killed Eli? She moved on silent feet into her bedroom, settling in a corner and facing the door.
There, she cocked her gun at the door and waited. The dark stillness of the apartment threatened to overwhelm her.
At last she heard slow, cautious steps heading up the stairs. Whoever it was moved quietly. The only sound that gave them away was the faint creak of a weak step.
The bedroom door swung slowly open toward her. She hoisted her gun from her corner. The figure emerged.
Winter.
He was wielding an umbrella like a weapon—and at her movement, he swung in her direction. She shifted her weight instinctively to one side. Then his eyes widened as he recognized her. His hand dropped, and he leaned heavily against the door frame.
“Holy hell,” he snapped at her, throwing his umbrella down. He looked terrifyingly pale. “I could have killed you.”
Relief flooded through her at the sight of him, then embarrassment as tears stung her eyes. She hadn’t realized how afraid she was of him getting killed. Of potentially being the one to find him dead. “Not with that thing, you couldn’t,” she replied instead, sheathing her gun with a flourish. “Are you okay?”
He nodded wearily. There was a gloss of fear in his eyes, and with a start, she realized he’d been afraid for her. “Something happened to you,” he said.
She stared at him. “And to you.”
He hesitated, then said in a low, hoarse voice, “A sniper tried to kill Penelope. Shot straight through the glass of her apartment window. She’s with Connor now, at his place.”
Sydney felt her throat constrict at his words.And what do you think I can do to your loved ones?The sense of spiraling hit her again, and she fought to keep calm. She reached Winter and immediately started scanning him for any sign of injuries. Her fingers brushed the skin of his arm. “Are you hurt?”
He shook his head. His eyes stayed steadily on hers, searching for the secrets behind her haunted expression. “No. You?”
There was a heavy pause. Then she took a deep breath and said, “Eli Morrison is dead.”
For a moment, all they could do was stare at each other.
Their mission was over. Now they were embroiled in something new, something for which they had no plans.
“Sauda and Niall wanted a call as soon as you returned,” Sydney whispered in the silence. “Glad you made it.”
They locked the door and checked the shades on the window. Then they settled in the middle of the floor. Sydney pulled out a small lens, then snapped it into place on her phone’s camera and placed the phone carefully on the carpet between them. She tapped out a few instructions on it.
A muted animation appeared between them, showing a loading circle around a green phone. Seconds later, the animation disappeared to make way for Sauda’s bust hovering in midair as a hologram, her brows knotted with worry. Beside her appeared Niall, who scooted forward at the sight of them.
Sauda’s eyes found Sydney’s immediately. Although she said nothing, Sydney could tell that she was searching for signs of injury. Then the woman said, “What happened?”
Her tone was crisp and cold, a voice that Sydney knew well. “I tailed Eli Morrison and three of his associates down to Teddington Lock tonight,” she replied. “They dragged Eli on board one of his yachts. TheInvictus. I couldn’t catch their entire conversation, but what I did catch was spoken in Corcasian.” She shook her head. “Here.”
She tapped something else on her phone. As Sauda and Niall looked on, a file began to play, filling the air around them with the darkness of a foggy night and lapping water, of angry murmurs overhead. Winter sucked in his breath as the video played out, as the Paramecium cubeappeared and Sydney made her move, as the guard then hit Eli and the man died choking on the chemical weapon.
When the recording finished, Niall said quietly, “Send us the file.”
“Yes, sir.”
As she uploaded the recording, Sydney stared across the hologram at Winter. There was a strange look on his face—horror, clearly, for the kind of scene that he had never witnessed before in his life… but also something else. A haunting. Sydney didn’t know what else to call it.
She nodded at him. “Tell them what happened to you tonight,” she said.
Both Niall’s and Sauda’s gazes flickered to Winter. He cleared his throat, tapped on his phone, and played for them a recording from his bugged earrings, the entire conversation he’d had with Penelope. It ended with the sound of them dropping frantically to the floor.
“One shot came through the window,” Winter said as the video finished. “It left a bullet hole in the window, but no other cracks. Hit one of the couch cushions between us, inches away from her.”
Niall rubbed a hand across his face and sighed. Then he looked again at Sydney and asked, “Eli Morrison’s time of death?”
