The rain hammered against the metal roof, nature’s fury providing perfect cover. In the darkness of our hiding place, I felt his heartbeat against my cheek—steady, controlled, inhuman.
“Your brother,” Reaper said unexpectedly, his voice so low I almost missed it beneath the storm’s rage. “What will you do if we find him and he’s like me?”
The question stole my breath. My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.
“What do you mean?”
His chest rose with a deeper breath. “If they’ve turned him into a weapon. If he doesn’t remember you.” A pause, weighted with something I couldn’t name. “If he tries to kill you.”
Lightning split the sky, illuminating his face through the door slats. For the first time, I saw fear in those eyes.
“He’s my brother,” I whispered. “I’d still try to save him.”
His hand stilled against my back. “Even knowing what I was sent to do to you?”
“Especially because of that.” I lifted my face to his in the darkness. “You were sent to kill me, but here you are, protecting me instead. We’ll apply the same approach to him, and hope that somehow…he’ll remember me. Rememberanything.”
His jaw tightened, muscles working beneath skin. “I don’t know why. I don’t understand what’s happening to me.”
“You’re remembering,” I said softly. “Not memories maybe, but feelings. Instincts they couldn’t erase.”
The silence between us hummed with dangerous possibility. Thunder crashed above, rattling the shelves around us, but neither of us moved.
The mechanical whirring of the drones suddenly changed pitch. Reaper tensed, listening.
“They’re being recalled,” he murmured, pressing closer to the door slats to observe. “Lightning interference is compromising their systems.”
“So we can leave?” Hope flickered dangerously in my chest.
“Soon. Ground teams will return to base. The storm’s getting worse—they’ll assume we’ve moved on and regroup.” His eyes narrowed as he processed something I couldn’t see. “And I know somewhere they won’t follow.”
“Where?”
His mouth curved in what might have been the ghost of a smile. “Somewhere even operatives fear to tread. The favelas. I have a contact there who owes me.”
“A favor? What kind of favor?”
“The kind that keeps you alive when everyone wants you dead.” He shifted, readying himself to move. “Do you trust me?”
Did I trust the man sent to kill me? The weapon who’d taken a bullet meant for me? The stranger whose real name I didn’t even know?
“Yes,” I said, surprising us both with my certainty. “God help me, I do.”
“Then follow me exactly,” he whispered. “And remember what you said about saving your brother—that there’s always something worth saving.” His hand found mine in the darkness, fingers interlacing with mine. “I’m starting to believe you might be right.”
Chapter 8
Maeve
The storm intensified as we navigated the labyrinthine passages of Heliópolis favela. Rain cascaded down makeshift gutters and corrugated metal roofs, transforming narrow walkways into miniature rivers. The puddles below my shoes soaked my feet. I felt eyes tracking us from darkened doorways—not just curious glances but calculating stares measuring what we might be worth to whoever was hunting us.
A gunshot cracked in the distance. I flinched, my heart jumping into my throat, but Reaper didn’t even turn his head. His hand remained steady at the small of my back, his body positioned between me and any potential threats.
“Police or our pursuers won’t come here,” he explained, voice lower than usual. “Too dangerous for them. That makes it safe for us, but...”
“But we’re surrounded by people who might sell information about strangers,” I finished, scanning the shadows that seemed to move with a life of their own.
He nodded. “My contact owed me a debt. He’s a dead man if he doesn’t give us at least forty-eight hours, not that we will stay until then.”
