And my own.
Chapter 2
Maeve
I stumbled through the motel door and collapsed against it, barely able to force it closed.
My hands shook so violently I couldn’t get the deadbolt to slide. Three attempts before it clicked into place. Chain next. The metal rattled against the plate as I fumbled with the simple mechanism. These flimsy barriers wouldn’t stop him if he came for me, but I needed the illusion of safety.
Outside, the night air carried the scent of yakisoba and diesel exhaust through my partially open window. Red paper lanterns cast bloody shadows across the Liberdade District. Men had lingered in doorways, their eyes following me as I had hurried inside—their catcalls still ringing in my ears. “Americana bonita,” one had called, making obscene gestures. But these common criminals were nothing compared to the man I just escaped.Reaper. The memory of his eyes—empty as a winter sky—made my skin prickle.
My vision tunneled, no matter how much I tried to keep it focused on my surroundings. The simple beige walls were a strong contrast to my darkening vision, as was the default white bedding that was neatly tucked over my bed. I wantedto stumble toward it, but my feet remained in their place, frozen, as if my body was scared a single wrong move would somehow draw him into this corner of safety.Safety.It was far from it, really, but at least I wasn’t next tohim.
Black edges crept in as the room pitched sideways. Adrenaline crash. I’d read about it, written about it, but never felt it like this—not even after the phone call about my brother. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, drowning out the drip of the bathroom faucet, the hum of the old air conditioner.
My throat burned where he touched me. Those cold fingers. I reached up, half-expecting to find indentations in my skin. Nothing visible, but I felt the ghost of his grip, controlled and deadly. I swallowed and winced. The gesture triggered a flash of him in the garage—tall, expressionless, a statue come to life with death in his hands.
My knees hit the thin carpet as a wave of delayed terror crashed through me. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I heaved for air, desperately trying to force it down my airways, right into my lungs.
“No.” The word came out raw. I wouldn’t let panic win. Not now.
I dragged myself forward on hands and knees, the carpet burning my palms. I crawled to the bed, hauled myself onto its edge, and dropped my head between my knees. Four counts in, hold for seven, eight counts out. The breathing technique my psychiatrist taught me after Xavier disappeared, when the nightmares wouldn’t stop.
Four in. Seven hold. Eight out.
It wasn’t working. My lungs refused to expand fully. Each breath caught, shorter than the last. My body trembled in sheer desperation, and I closed my eyes. A familiar figure popped up in my mind.
“Two choices in a panic—get your shit together or die,” Xavier had said during one of his impromptu survival lessons. “Your mind quits before your body does.” Easy for him to say. He’d faced death before. Special Forces training had prepared him for moments like this.
It was strange just how clearly my mind was able to summon the image of him. Every line, every hair was right in its place. It was almost as if he were right in front of me.
I pressed my fingertips into the mattress, focusing on its cheap polyester texture. The panic ebbed slightly. The room still spun, but slower now.
The air reeked of industrial bleach, barely masking cigarette smoke, but it was the peeling wallpaper and rusted bathroom fixtures that screamed desperation. It was a perfect match for how I felt.
The rope bracelet on my wrist caught my eye—frayed hemp in a sailor’s knot. Xavier’s last birthday gift before he vanished from that prison. “Something to remember me by, little sister,” he’d said, “until I get back.” But he never came back, and now I knew why.
That man—Reaper—he hesitated. When I asked his name, something happened. Something broke through. For a split second, I saw confusion replace that empty stare and then pain fracture his perfect composure. I saw something human. That hesitation saved my life.
Four in. Seven hold. Eight out.
My stomach clenched violently.
I lurched for the bathroom, retching into the toilet until there was nothing left but acid and fear. When I stood, the mirror showed a stranger—hair wild, mascara streaked across pallid skin, a ring of reddish marks forming around my throat. Fingerprints in bruise form. I rinsed my mouth.
“Keep it together,” I whispered to my reflection. “For Xavier.”
I owed him that much. My brother’s name centered me like nothing else could—six months since he disappeared. Six months of nightmares, dead ends, promises from useless police officers, and lies from authorities. Of thinking I was mad. Six months of preparing myself for whatever it would take to find him.
I splashed cold water on my face. The shock of it pulled me further back into my body. My reflection stared back with hollow eyes. The woman who walked into República Square tonight was gone. The trembling in my hands subsided enough that I could grip the edge of the sink without my knuckles turning white.
I straightened my spine. My reflection hardened, panic giving way to something colder, more focused. I had survived an encounter with an assassin from the very shadow organization I was looking for. I saw the crack in their perfect system.
And I was still breathing.
The four feet between the bathroom and the desk felt like forty. I crossed the room to the small desk and sank into thechair, getting my laptop out. As it booted up, I ran my finger along the worn photo taped to the lid. Xavier smiled back at me—that cocky, confident grin that used to infuriate me. His Special Forces beret tilted at the regulation angle, green eyes bright with life.
I could almost swear that the photograph was trying to say something to me. If Xavier knew what I was up to, he would’ve undoubtedly scolded me. He wouldn’t want me to go down this route—to expose myself to so much danger. But what other choice did I have? I couldn’t just…let it go. I was getting closer. I could feel it.
