Her exact words were: “Now is our time for revenge. Go after Rafael with all you’ve got, Emilia. I’m trusting you with this.”
I said yes, of course. How could I not?
But the truth is… I don’t know if I stillwantrevenge.
I quickly push the thought away. Nonsense. Of course I still want revenge. I–
“Are you even listening to me?” Greg demands, getting to his feet.
I blink, dragging my gaze from the bookshelf back to his pissed-off face. “Yes, sir.” No, sir. I just want to go home and sleep the entire weekend.
He clearly doesn’t believe me, his lips thinning to nearly nothing. “Get out of here. When you come back in the morning, I want you refreshed and at your best.” He waves me off like I’m a bad smell and slumps back down into his chair.
Come back in the morning? Fuck. “Yes sir.”
I fight the urge to add a mocking salute and just turn on my heel. Shoulders back, head high, I walk out of his office, down the buzzing hallway, and into the elevator. Even there, with nobody but me and the hum of the lift, I stay alert, conscious of the camera in the corner.
You never show weakness or it will be taken advantage of.
In the underground parking lot, I fish out my key fob. The headlights of my bike blink and, for the first time today, a little of my exhaustion slips away.
God, I missed my baby.
I can’t ride her when I’m on missions, so whenever I’m back in the city, I make it a point to take her out for a spin.
From the back saddle, I grab my helmet—a thick black one that matches the chrome finish of my bike—and pull it on. Then my leg swings over, straddling the seat, and the second my hands wrap around the handlebars, a delicious thrill shoots down my spine. I kick the stand up and settle in, feeling the weight of the world lift off my shoulders.
One twist of the key, and my baby roars to life with a low, hungry purr that sinks straight into my bones. I give the throttle a playful rev, just for the hell of it, then lean forward and let her loose from the parking lot.
Strands of hair whip behind me under my helmet, the wind tugging hard, and I feel my face crack into a genuine grin. First one in days. I needed this—speed, freedom, the city blurring around me. I take the long way home, dodging cars and weaving through the traffic, heart pounding with excitement.
About twenty minutes later, I finally make the turn onto my street—the one that leads to the brownstone apartment I got a few years ago in Washington Height. I feel my phone buzz again in my jacket pocket. It hasn’t stopped all ride, and I already know it’s Katie. She’s the only one who blows up my line like that.
I pull up into my parking spot with an expert flick of the wheel and kill the engine, knocking the kickstand down in one fluid move. A chorus of catcalls follows as I pull off my helmet, and I chuckle, waving a dismissive hand at the drunk men wobbling down the sidewalk.Yeah, keep dreaming, boys.Helmet stashed in the saddle, I take out my phone and make my way into the lobby, nodding at the door man on my way past.
Sure enough, it’s Katie that’s been blowing up my phone. Nine missed calls. Twelve texts.That girl. I shake my head as the elevator doors slide shut.
“Where have you been?” she blurts out the second I walk into the apartment, shoving her blonde hair out of her face like she’s two seconds from combusting. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?”
“Sorry, babe. I was on my bike, on my way home,” I say pointedly, hoping she’ll get the hint that I’m exhausted, but Katie has the emotional intelligence of a brick wall when she’s worked up. She just sticks her hand out like I’m supposed to know what that means. I raise a brow, deadpan, and place myhand on hers—because, hell if I know what else she wants from me.
She slaps it away with a huff. “Give me your phone. Unlocked, please,” she elaborates, mouth set in a determined line that I know means arguing is useless.
Oh. This should be interesting.
I unlock my phone and hand it over to her. She immediately spins away from me, fingers flying across the screen. I shuffle up close behind her, practically breathing down her neck to catch a glimpse of what she’s doing.
She’s downloading something. A few taps, a swipe… and then I catch the icon. A tracking app. Without missing a beat, she signs me up, links it to her phone, then finally hands mine back. “Now I can see where you are at all times—and vice versa,” she says, looking entirely too pleased with herself.
“Well…” I say, because honestly, what else is there to say?. Intrusive much?
Katherine and I first met back at the academy in Quantico and we were briefly friends. Then I got called to New York for my first mission—the one that cost me my fucking heart—while she was sent across the country.
We tried to keep in touch whenever we could, and then five years ago, after my old partner snitched on me and lost his life for it—courtesy of Rafael—I was assigned a new one: Katherine Pierce.
Yeah,thatKatherine. Katie. My best friend.
We’ve only gotten closer since. She’s the sister I never had. We know everything about each other.Well, almost everything.She’s family. Just like Maximo, Romero, Michael… and Rafael once were.
