Eventually, she realized the pilot’s voice was on the intercom.
“Is everyone alive? Is everyone alive?” he was saying over and over again.
Sydney’s mouth felt too dry to respond. All she could do was look over to where Winter was pressed against the jet floor, his gaze going between her and Tems’s unconscious form. At the rear of the plane, Dameon finally stirred and hurried up the aisle toward them.
At last, Sydney found her voice. “We’re all here,” she shouted. “Stop the plane. Stop the plane!”
She could feel the plane steadying to a stop. Through the windows,the lights of fire engines and police cars flashed along either side of the plane, as if guiding it.
Her eyes went back to Winter. He looked pale, and blood stained his arm and face. But he was alive, and right now, that mattered more to Sydney than anything in the world.
“Are you okay?” he murmured.
She held his gaze for a moment. Then she closed her eyes and rested her head against her arm. Her hand stretched out for his, and in the darkness, she felt him take it.
“I will be,” she whispered.
35Keep Your Heart Open
Once they were debriefed at the Singapore International Airport, once Tems had been cleared for extradition to the United States, once she and Winter were finally back on American soil after catching a new flight, Sydney confirmed several things.
The CIA rogue cell that they—that Tems—had been working with from the beginning of their mission, was behind not only the president’s assassination, but had facilitated Niall’s murder for Tems. As a result, the CIA itself had exploded into the headlines, with the director resigning in the midst of the scandal and an internal investigation plowing through the agency’s ranks. Not a day had passed without the vice president—now the president—addressing the nation to report on the state of international affairs or provide updates about the arrests within the agency as members of the rogue cell were identified.
“He’s going to be okay,” Sauda told Sydney three weeks later as they sat across from each other in a war room at Panacea’s headquarters. The woman nodded at a screen on the wall that was playing a live feed of Winter leaving the FBI’s front entrance, his eyes shielded behind large black sunglasses as a crowd of reporters and fans jostled around him. “We’ve already spoken with both the FBI and President Castillo abouthim. The news will be reporting on his recovery and the number of postponed concerts he’ll need to deal with for the next few months.”
Sydney shifted in her seat. The dozens of bruises she’d gained from the chase and final fight at the airport still made her wince.
“I feel like we owe his fans an apology,” she replied dryly.
“An apology? All this news around Winter being trapped in Singapore during the president’s assassination has practically erased his father’s tell-all book from the news. His team should be sending us flowers.” Sauda crossed her arms and sighed. “But make no mistake, Sydney. I don’t think his cover will last through any more missions with us. Take comfort in the fact that this may be the last time he risks his life for us.”
Sydney angled her swivel chair away and pretended not to care. But a hollow in her chest had formed since the day she had separated from Winter, since her life had taken her back to Panacea’s headquarters and his life had taken him back into the whirlwind of the spotlight. He seemed like he was doing okay, at least in the news, although she had yet to see him smile for the cameras since his return.
At night, she’d startle awake, still reaching for his hand, still waiting for him to take it. Then she would toss and turn, would sit up in bed, staring at her window in grief and exhaustion until dawn came to burn the darkness away.
No more missions with Winter, at least not with him at her side as a partner. She didn’t let herself dwell on it, couldn’t bear the thought that she might never see him again. She told herself to be what Sauda suggested—grateful for his safety.
A smaller window on the live feed now showed a CIA agent being led away in cuffs, the latest arrest in the rogue cell scandal.
“War still on?” Sydney asked hesitantly.
Sauda shook her head. “The last intel we were given was that China has backed down after news spilled about the CIA’s rogue cell. PresidentCastillo has gone with the CIA director to China to apologize for the incident and accusations. China is going to introduce sanctions against us, to show their displeasure with the whole incident. There will be years of damage control ahead for us.” She looked at Sydney. “But no war.”
Sydney sank back in her seat. Suddenly, she felt like everything in her had turned weak, and a curtain of exhaustion draped so heavily on her that she wanted to fall asleep right here in her chair.
“Still,” she whispered, almost to herself. “The mission was a failure.”
Sauda was quiet for a while. “It could have gone much worse. I think we have the camaraderie between you and Winter to thank.”
Camaraderie. A thread of fear shot through her as she met Sauda’s searching gaze, as if the woman was reading every thought she had of Winter. Sydney wondered if Sauda had somehow guessed at what had happened between her and Winter during the mission, if something in her demeanor might have given it away. And she wondered if Sauda was thinking of Niall, of the fleeting moments of love in her own life, of future moments that would now never come to pass.
But Sauda just gave her a curt nod.
“The question now is Tems.” Sauda laced her fingers together against the table. Grief clouded her features. Niall’s name seemed to hover in the air between them, although neither of them had the strength to bring him up.
“What will you do with Tems?” Sydney asked instead.
“I’m hardly the one in control of his fate now,” Sauda replied. “The government will make sure he’ll never set foot outside of prison again. But they want us to have a conversation with him. He has valuable information about others in the ring he was working with.”
