“Hard to predict in someone without prior conditioning.” He ran a hand through his dark hair—a surprisingly human gesture. “Could be nausea, disorientation, hallucinations. Could be nothing. As I said before, I’ve never seen its results.”
Despite his matter-of-fact tone, I caught a flicker of genuine concern in his eyes. “It’s a risk. But so is going in without protection.”
I swallowed hard, taking the syringe. “Great.”
“I’ll stay with him,” Specter said, nodding toward Reaper. “Try to stabilize his condition.”
“Thank you.” I tucked the syringe carefully into my pocket.
Specter moved suddenly, closing the distance between us before I could react. His hand brushed my hair aside, and I felt a sharp pinch behind my ear.
“What the hell?” I jerked away.
“Tracking implant,” he said, stepping back quickly. “Microscopic, undetectable by standard scans. Limited range, but enough to follow you if things go wrong.”
“You could have asked first,” I snapped, rubbing at my ear.
Something like embarrassment crossed his face. “I’m… still working on the social protocols. Asking seemed…” He paused, searching for the word. “Inefficient. Sorry.”
The apology sounded rusty, unpracticed, but genuine. I nodded, as if to say,apology accepted.
“If you’re not back in the next few hours and if Reaper hasn’t woken up, I’ll have to move him and assume you’re captured.” Specter met my eyes directly. “I don’t know if I’ll even be able to intervene on my own. Once they have you in a black site, not even I can get you out.” I swallowed, giving him another nod. I knew what he was doing—he was presenting all the risk, and allowing me to make an informed decision. It didn’t change my decision though. Ihadto go. I had no other choice.
“Once you’re in a conditioning facility, extraction becomes practically impossible,” he said quietly. “Even for me. Especially alone.”
The brutal honesty made my stomach sink. “Understood.”
I looked back at Reaper, his face slack and pale against the pillow. I wanted to stay until he woke up—if he woke up—but Xavier’s time was running out.
I leaned down, brushed my lips against Reaper’s burning forehead. “Come back,” I whispered. “I can’t do this alone.”
“Keep him alive,” I told Specter. It wasn’t quite a request, not quite a demand.
He gave a single nod. “Take the northeastern exit and avoid main streets. You have cameras on both corners. There’s a service corridor they don’t monitor as heavily.”
I couldn’t wait any longer. My hands trembled as I pulled the syringe from my pocket, yanked up my sleeve, and jabbed the needle into my arm before I could overthink it. The sharp sting made me flinch, but I pushed the plunger down, injecting whatever counteragent Specter had given me.
Nothing happened. No rush of relief, no sudden clarity, no magical antidote effect. Just the same heavy dread sitting in my stomach.
As I reached the door, he spoke again. “Durham.” His voice had changed—something softer in it, almost hesitant. “Reaper. He means something to you, doesn’t he?” The question hung between us, unexpected and strangely personal, coming from someone like Specter.
I turned back. “Yes. He does.”
Specter nodded slowly, a flicker of something like longing crossing his face. “Then I’ll keep him alive. Not because of mission parameters or tactical advantage.” He looked down at Reaper. “Because he matters to someone. That should count for something.”
I gathered my courage, took one last look at Reaper, and headed for the door.
Chapter 13
Maeve
I drifted up through layers of darkness, sensations hitting me in disjointed flashes. Cold metal pressed against my back. Sharp edges bit into my wrists and ankles. A mechanical buzz filled the air, insistent and grating.
My eyelids refused to cooperate, heavy as iron shutters. When I finally forced them open, harsh fluorescent light stabbed into my skull, sending pain lancing through my brain. I squeezed them shut again, counting to three before trying once more.
The room swam into focus. Concrete walls. Gray floor. A single light fixture overhead that hummed with steady, artificial brightness. My tongue felt swollen, coated with a chemical taste that made me gag. The bitter flavor reminded me of Reaper’s kiss after he’d been poisoned—metallic and wrong. God, was he even alive?
The memories rushed back in broken fragments.
