“Can you get back on your own?”
His voice was low, quiet, and urgent. It calmed her somewhat, a reminder that there was another seasoned Panacea agent here paying attention to her—and with that thought, she looked down the hall and gauged her options.
“Don’t come,” she whispered. “Note my location and make sure I’m still moving.”
“I’ve got you,” he answered.
She let his words still her, then turned her focus back on the hall. There were other scattered security guards here, patrolling the corridor, as well as the occasional cluster of concert attendees hurrying along, giggling and laughing, oblivious to what might have happened here, to a laser point fixed on her.
Would they try shooting her in public like this, with witnesses scattered all over the place? Surely they wouldn’t want to cause a scene.
Sydney took a deep breath, silently counted for ten seconds—and then stepped out from the safety of the pillar, moving as precisely as if she were walking on a blade.
She immediately passed a pair of guards heading in the opposite direction, then kept pace with a group of laughing friends, all giggling about the new merchandise they’d just purchased from the stadium’s front stands. Her pace stayed steady, even as she braced for the feeling of a bullet ripping into her body.
It didn’t. Not yet, at least.
The hall’s population thinned again. Now she was nearly alone, and a long, open corridor stretched between her and the location of the box.
So the sniper—whoever they were—didn’t want to gun her down in front of a crowd, or else they would have pulled the trigger minutes ago. It’d given her a little leeway, but she needed to get back immediately, needed to warn the others.
Then, as she saw two security officers round the bend, she stepped out into the open and began walking back to the box.
From her periphery, she caught a glimpse of the red dot glimmering again on her sleeve. She forced herself to continue walking calmly, although everything in her screamed to bolt. One of the security officers gave her a disinterested nod as she approached him.
“Excuse me,” she said, trying to sound sheepish. “I’m supposed to be in the reserved box as a bodyguard for Winter Young, but they won’t let me back inside. Could you come with me to speak with them? I have all my identification.”
The officer shook his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said. “We’re expected at the entrance on the other side of the stadium in a few minutes. What’s your name?”
“Ashley Miller, sir.”
“I’ll radio them,” he said, already starting to turn away. “They’ll know you’re coming.”
She cursed inwardly as she started walking again, too, her head still turned toward them—but on the surface she gave them both a pleasant smile and a nod. “That would be so great,” she replied. “Thank you.”
He nodded back at her before he and his partner turned around and continued down the path. The protection of their proximity waned—and as Sydney turned back around to face the empty hall, she braced herself for gunfire. Her eyes darted around, looking for any more cover she could use.
“Ashley?”
Then the familiar voice came around the turn of the corridor—and Sydney found herself bumping right into Gavi.
“Oh!” Gavi let out a startled yelp before she rolled her eyes and gave Sydney a wry smile that looked more like a grimace. “They said you were lost out here. I stepped out to grab you.”
Relief washed over Sydney. It took all of her willpower not to grab Gavi and hug her senseless. Instead, she chuckled dryly and looked down, as if embarrassed. “I appreciate the help, miss,” she said as Gavi began leading them back the way she had come.
Gavi shrugged before folding her arms together and leaning closer to her. “In all honesty,” she muttered, “I was trying to get a break from a minister in there who keeps loitering near me. You’re a good excuse. Now, stay close so I don’t have to keep talking to the guy.”
Sydney felt a twinge of guilt at using Gavi as a shield from her attacker. Still, the girl was completely unaware, and the shot never came. By the time they rounded the corner and the glass doors of the box came into view, the laser sight hadn’t reappeared. The moment her assailant had wanted to take advantage of was gone now.
So was Gavi’s sense of camaraderie. The instant they returned to the space, she made a beeline for a woman standing near the food trays, sipping on a cup of tea. Sydney recognized her as the prime minister’s assistant. So much for sticking near Gavi—but Sydney did nevertheless, feeling both weak with relief after her encounter and uneasy with the idea of an assassin lying in wait outside for her.
Down below, Winter’s performance continued. He had taken off his glittering suit jacket, revealing a silver shirt made out of a gleaming, rippling fabric that moved like water when he did. His smile now was genuine, full of mischief as he belted out a high note and then winked at the audience, making the stadium burst into delighted screams.
She was glad that he hadn’t been with her out in the hall. It ruled out her hypothesis that her airport assailant had been there for Winter instead of her. Perhaps he had a stalker of his own, but this—this was a deliberate targeting of Sydney.
She imagined the way his eyes would constrict in fear if she told him what had happened, and the uneasiness churned in her stomach again. It was the same look he’d had on his face during their most dangerous moments in London, when it seemed for a while that they might not make it out alive.
It was the act of him worrying that bothered her, the fact that her well-being could affect his emotions so visibly. She was too used to walking alone through life. Sure, Sauda and Niall cared about her safety—butthis, this attention from Winter, this sudden tethering of another person’s emotions… was different. This scared her.
