I glanced toward Vincent's room, weighing the risk of leaving him alone against the potential information Frankie might provide. Information we desperately needed if we were going to survive.
I typed: BE THERE. DON'T FUCK WITH ME.
Three dots appeared, disappeared, then reappeared. Finally: WOULDN'T DREAM OF IT, PRINCESS.
I sighed, dragging myself upright despite the exhaustion weighing down every cell. Sleep would have to wait. I scribbled a quick note for Vincent in case he woke early—GONE FOR INTEL. BACK SOON. STAY HERE—and placed it on the coffee table beneath a green gummy worm for emphasis.
As I pulled on my jacket and checked my weapons, I fought the impulse to look in on Vincent one more time. That would be a weakness I couldn't afford, not with the fever already crawling through my system and Frankie waiting with information that might mean life or death.
One last glance at the cracked bedroom door, then I slipped out into the Acropolis corridors, heading toward what I hoped was answers and not another betrayal.
"You look like shit,"Frankie said, sliding a mug of coffee across the table.
The neon lights of the Acropolis's underground diner cast his scarred face in sickly blue shadows. Five in the morning, and somehow he still looked pressed and polished in his tailored suit while I felt like something dragged through hell and back. My broken nose throbbed with every heartbeat, the pain radiating outward like toxic ripples ina poisoned pond. Heat crawled under my skin, my fever building despite the three ibuprofen I'd choked down before heading out.
"Thanks. Been a rough night." I ignored the coffee. Fever made everything taste like I was sucking on pennies anyway. "So. This contract."
"The contract wasn't my call, kid."
"Bullshit. You're the handler." My voice came out raw from the night's insomnia and the infection clearly taking hold in my system.
"For this region, sure." He leaned forward, voice dropping. "But this came direct from Prometheus himself. He’s the one who told me to make sure you did the job. Made it clear as day."
My skin froze despite the fever ravaging me. Ice and fire coexisted, my core crystallizing while my skin smoldered, a walking contradiction of extremes. "But why Vincent? He's nobody."
"That's what I thought." Frankie's fingers drummed an anxious rhythm on the table. "Then I looked closer. Turns out it wasn't about the therapist at all."
"What do you mean?"
"It was about you." His dark eyes locked with mine. "Prometheus called it a 'loyalty reinforcement exercise.'"
The phrase hit like a blade between the ribs, twisting until I could taste blood at the back of my throat. Loyalty reinforcement. Code for when they suspected an asset might be developing independent thought.
"So Vincent was just... convenient?" The thought made my stomach twist, acid burning up my esophagus. Another innocent caught in Prometheus's web because of me.
Frankie shrugged, casual as if discussing lunch plans instead of a death sentence. "Maybe. But maybe not. Word is, the guy’s got an uncanny ability. Special training on deprogramming. MaybePrometheus thought he was killing two birds with one stone. Test you and take out the one motherfucker in this city who could steal his assets away from him. Who the fuck knows? I sure don’t and I know better than to ask. When the director says jump, I say ‘yes, sir.’"
My vision went red, rage surging through my fever-addled system like napalm. Vincent. Gentle, perceptive Vincent with his plant conversations and his steady hands. Vincent, who'd looked at a killer and seen a person worth saving. Reduced to a fucking test piece in Prometheus's sick games.
My fingers dug into the edge of the table, wood creaking under the pressure. I wanted to flip it, smash the mugs, tear apart the entire Acropolis brick by fucking brick until I reached Prometheus and ripped out his throat with my bare hands.
"So I was never meant to succeed," I said, voice deadly quiet. "He wanted me to fail the test."
"Or pass it by killing the therapist without question," Frankie countered. "Win-win for him either way. If you killed Matthews, your conditioning still held. If you hesitated, he had justification to bring you in for... reconditioning."
"And I failed spectacularly." I laughed without humor, the sound scraping raw in my throat. Each word sent fresh spikes of pain through my broken nose, cartilage grinding against itself in a way that made my eyes water.
"You're not the only one being tested these days," Frankie muttered.
“What do you mean?”
Frankie glanced over his shoulder, paranoia in every line of his body. "You hear about Apollo in Asia? Missing, resumed dead?"
"Yeah, since January."
"And Triton in Oceania?" Frankie's mouth twisted. "Didn't even get a proper death notice in the official report. Just 'confirmed dead.' Now they've got some new guy calling himself Poseidon."
I frowned, trying to connect dots through the haze of fever. My thoughts felt slippery, hard to grasp. "You think Prometheus is behind these disappearances?"
