My mother’s reappearance caused an unexpected wound, and I felt a sense of relief when Xavier told me her plane had arrived in California. She was safe. In a sense, it meant one less person to resent, a small relief from the daily burdens I carry.
That’s enough.
For me and her, it’s probably the best we’ll get.
Xavier and I hop on the treadmills together. I ask abouthis schedule, feeling reassured by knowing exactly where he’ll be. He hides nothing, as if he’s glad to have someone to share it with, and redirects the question to me.
Typically, I leave for the city, but today, Dante’s going to teach me computers—specifically, hacking. When I told him I wanted to learn and preferred Xavier not know about it, I received a blunt but loyal “fuuuuckno.”
The attack shifted his perspective.
I need to know everything.
I will never be in the dark again.
Xavier smiles when I reveal that I’m staying home today, visibly relieved by the news, as staying home allows him to leave with peace of mind. I very seldom provide him with that reassurance; I prefer to escape this place whenever possible.
Because when he’s not here, it isn’t home.
The guilt of lying to him is overshadowed by my need to keep him alive, reminding me of a time when we had to run for our lives, and I depended on him for every decision, feeling useless when it mattered.
He winks as I hop off the machine and head to the mirrors to start wrapping my hands with tape. I lock in once I’m pounding a punching bag, while the room distorts into a dilapidated compound in Reykjavík. The air feels as if it’s filled with frost, and the ground is hard cement rather than screw-fixed plywood. My arms root to the sandbag, leveling my anxiety with every punch.
The final part of the workout is my favorite. The knives in my palms are a reassuring weight as I dig my shoes into the ground, stiffening my form before unleashing them on the fixed target at the end of the track. In a separate room of the gym, where Xavier once brought me to teach me how to fire a gun at the beginning of our marriage, I lose track of time piercing holes in the target, exploring different ways to move my body to ensure I hit my marks.
Whilethe compound in Iceland emphasized hand-to-hand training, this gym has enhancements, such as the ability to flip a switch that shuffles the target around the edge of the room, with the mechanism shifting up and down like a person.
My arms aren’t as agile as they were when training was my constant, but they pitch the sharp blades with swift precision, battering the board with lethal assaults. I gasp as the last blade is lodged, turning off the machine so I can gather the blades to restart.
“You learned all this in a year?”
Turning, I find my husband with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall behind the spotlights, a damp towel draped over his shoulder. Xavier’s hair is pulled back from his face, revealing sharp cheekbones and a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. The dim light catches the angular contours of his face, subtle shadows accentuating his focus.
Knowing he was watching me, a master of skills, my pulse quickens, the heat of awkwardness flushing my cheeks. “Yes.”
“When did you sleep?”
My smile conceals the real answer to that.
“Come on. Let’s go.”
“For themillionthtime, you need to infect the site with malware first.”
Dante grins at my scowl.
“Thisismy first day, you remember?”
“What can I say? I'm a terrible teacher,” he spouts.
“Your words, not mine.”
He gapes at my quip, pointing at the impossible codes on the screen. “The malware will gain you backdoor access and buy time before they notice. You need to find an unprotectedpathway into their network so you can insert whatever you need to.”
My random clicks are futile. This could—will—take years to master. “This is how you get information?”
“Yep. The internet is the source of literally everything. The government and police are almost entirely online now. But most of the time, we’re wading the black market. That’s where the real information can be found. It’s all about programming and creating sites for specific purposes. It’s how Xavier could track you down in Madrid without leaving a trace. It took him a day or two, but he located you through security cameras, and then he pieced together your whereabouts back to your little apartment above the café.”
“That’s insane.”
