Page 37 of Beautifully Scarred Omega

I hang my coat on the hook by the door and go to join him. It’s my favorite space in the house, the fire already going, throwing warm light over the old Persian rug Ethan dragged home from an estate sale years ago.

Finn is sprawled on one end of the sofa, phone in hand, thumb moving idly across the screen. He’s changed out of his suit into jeans and a sweater, his hair slightly mussed. Ethan is in the armchair nearest the fire, absorbed in a book.

“Rough day?” Ethan asks, looking up as I enter.

“You could say that.” I loosen my tie as I cross the room. “The quarterly projections came in. We’re ahead of schedule on two of the clinical trials, but the regulatory paperwork for Equinox is going to be a nightmare.”

“We always knew that it would be.” Ethan closes his book and sets it aside. “The FDA doesn’t know what to do with compounds that don’t fit their existing frameworks, but we’ll get there.”

I sink into the other armchair. The fire crackles and pops, sending shadows dancing across the walls. For a moment, none of us speak. It’s the comfortable silence of men who have known each other half a lifetime.

But something feels off.

I glance at Finn. He’s staring into the fire, his jaw tight, the phone gone dark and forgotten in his hand. He hasn’t said a word since I walked in, and a quiet Finn is as rare as a snowball in hell.

Ethan notices too. His gray eyes flick from Finn to me and back again, a question forming behind his glasses.

“Alright.” Ethan leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What’s going on with you?”

Finn blinks, surfacing from whatever thoughts had pulled him under. “What?”

“You’ve been acting strange all day. You barely said two words in the meeting this morning. And now you’re sitting there looking like someone kicked your dog.” Ethan tilts his head, studying him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Finn wakes the screen, the motion mechanical and automatic. “Just tired.”

I watch the way his shoulders tense and he won’t quite meet our eyes.

“Is this about our new hire?” I ask.

Finn’s head snaps toward me. His grip tightens on the phone, knuckles going white for just a second before he forces his fingers to relax.

“Why would it be about her?”

“I don’t know.” I hold his gaze. “You tell me.”

The silence stretches. Finn’s throat works, but whatever he means to say, he swallows it.

“No, of course not.” His voice comes out weaker this time.

He’s lying, alright.

But I don’t push. If Finn wants to talk about it, he will. If he doesn’t, no amount of prodding will change his mind.

“There’s something about her,” I say slowly. “Something that makes me uneasy.”

“Uneasy how?” Ethan asks.

“When I look at her, really look at her, it’s like there’s nothing there.” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “Her eyes are empty. Like she’s not really a person, just something wearing a person’s skin.”

“That’s unsettling,” Ethan murmurs.

“She’s supposed to be unsettling,” Finn says.

Ethan and I both look up at him. He’s barely spoken all evening, and now there’s an anger in his voice sharper than the moment calls for.

“She’s a spy. Of course her eyes are empty, it’s her job to be no one. She becomes exactly what you need her to be, someone easy to trust.”

I look over at Finn. He still won’t meet our eyes, just staring into the fire, his expression intense.