Traceless (Stateless #2)

by Meli Raine

  Traceless (Stateless #2)

  Meli Raine

  Copyright © 2019 by Meli Raine

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Traceless

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Traceless

  It's not against any formal rule for us to sleep together.

  It is, however, strictly forbidden to have feelings for each other.

  I can't do one without the other at this point.

  Which means I am doomed.

  When you don’t know who you can trust, reality distorts. It twists and oozes, disintegrating and reformulating to meet whatever needs its masters demand.

  Just like me.

  Just like Kina.

  Except everything is different now that we know who we really are.

  But there’s a second reality, you see.

  This one can’t be manipulated.

  It just is. Solid and true, it takes our mission, our training, our orders, turning them into nothing but secrets and lies.

  And this new reality means my old reality is trying to kill everything I love.

  Including her.

  1

  Kina

  I elevated.

  Faces bob above me as I stare up, the ceiling peeking in between them. Callum's bending down, his knees pointing at me as if they're interrogators, and I realize he’s just one person. No one else is there.

  My vision is blurry.

  “What happened?” I ask, pressing my palm against the floor to sit up, feeling warm stickiness. I look at my hand.

  It's covered in blood. My hand is in a pool of blood.

  Before he can answer, I turn to see Glen blinking at me, watching me like she's studying a specimen. Perplexity radiates from her.

  “Don't know. Just got here,” Callum grunts.

  “She killed Angelica.” Glen's clearly talking to Callum. It's as if I'm not in the room. She's shrugging on a long sweater. I turn, ignoring the mess on my hand, and catch her eye.

  Her head tilts.

  She's still in study mode.

  “Are you sure?” Callum asks. A series of images flickers through my mind. Me, with Glen in a hold, her arm behind her back. Whispering in her ear. Angelica with the gun.

  And then a blankness that comes with a chill.

  That's how higher levels of elevation work, though. We were trained. We were warned.

  We were honored.

  Honored when we figured out how to do it.

  And exalted when we learned how to use it.

  “It doesn't matter,” I say to him briskly, my tone so much like Glen's that he blinks rapidly, looking from me to her as if she's a ventriloquist. “She's finally dead.”

  “Finally?” Glen snaps.

  “She was a pain in my ass for years,” I mutter, standing up, taking in the dead woman's body. “If you killed her, thank you. If I killed her, then I'm capable of far more than I ever imagined.”

  Glen's face goes pale.

  “You did it. You went after her like an animal. It was disgusting. You fought unfairly.” Glen rubs her arm. I look and see bloodstains, a line coming through like her skin's injured under her shirt.

  “What happened to you?”

  “She, uh, attacked me, too.” The uh gives me pause. Glen doesn't hesitate.

  Ever.

  Callum's eyes narrow. He caught it, too.

  I look at my broken fingernails, already short because I never want to accidentally scratch a baby. They're blood filled, the dull red under my nails, covering my cuticles. My fingertips feel unnaturally raw. Angelica's arms are covered in long scrapes.

  But her fingernails are clean.

  “Here,” Callum says, handing me a folded handkerchief, motioning to my face. A sting above my eyebrow makes me realize I'm bleeding. He comes closer, peering at something there.

  “Jesus, Kina, did she bite you? That looks like teeth marks.”

  Glen closes her mouth and licks her teeth inside them.

  I stand, careful not to touch more of Angelica's pooling blood as I turn away from her and Glen and go into my bathroom. Something's wounded my eyebrow, for sure. The cut is clustered, not created by anything sharp, and it's nasty. Red and purple and swollen.

  “How long were you out like that?” Callum appears in the doorway, his reflection in the mirror showing a tight brow, worried eyes, but vigilant alertness as well.

  None of this adds up.

  His body knows it.

  “I don't know. I came to and you were shaking me.”

  “I came in here and Glen was over you, watching you breathe. Her fists were clenched and she had her phone in her hand, like she was about to call someone. When she saw me, she slipped it in her pocket and started putting on her sweater. Angelica was dead.”

  “Where is Glen?” I peer around him, trying to see into my living room.

  “She said she wanted to go shower. Said she hates the smell of blood.” An eye roll punctuates his words.

  “How long was the whole conflict, I wonder?” I open the medicine cabinet behind my mirror and find peroxide. I pour it on a washcloth, abandoning the handkerchief. Red dots cover it. Callum takes it and slides it into a jacket pocket.

  The sting of the antiseptic is harsh and bracing. It grounds me.

  “Not long. But you killed Angelica. Looks like bloodsport that ended with you strangling her. Not sure where the blood's coming from.”

  I stretch my chin up and look at my own neck. Red marks, with tendrils radiating out from a wider, lighter pink area.

  He mutters a curse. “You two really went at it. What's the last clear memory you have?”

  “Glen. I remember Glen hit me–”

  “She what?”

  “I was telling her I know who we really are.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Do you seriously think whoever set it up for me to access that information doesn't know, too? And she's my sister, Callum. She's sleeping with the president of the United States. She has power.”

  “She's a cold narcissist, Kina. How she uses power has no connection to your shared blood.”

  “She slapped me when I told her our real names.”

  “And then what?”

  “I told her maybe we're the bad guys. Maybe Stateless is wrong.”

  His eyebrows fly up. “And how did she handle that?”

  “She tried to hit me.”

  “And?”

  “I got her in a shoulder hold. Told her–” Suddenly, I can't say the words. I can't tell him I told Glen I might be the bad guy. It was a total ruse, a manipulation designed to throw her off.

  “Told her what?”

  “And then Angelica appeared out of nowhere, and her gun was pointed at me. I elevated
. I did it hard and furious and overwhelmed and, yes, emotional. I elevated in all the wrong ways.”

  He looks at my hands and my face. “You're alive. You faced down a woman with a gun and won. I'd say you elevated right.”

  “I killed a really important operative.”

  “You did. But she was about to kill an even more important one.”

  “Survival of the fittest,” we both intone at the same time.

  And then we sigh in unison.

  “I wonder if Glen’s coming back. She must be wondering what's going on here.”

  “I don't think Glen cares.”

  “Glen doesn't care about what?” she asks from the doorway, blocking it with her arms high, hands on the doorframe. Callum and I both jump, shocked by her reappearance.

  “About Angelica.”

  She makes a dismissive sound. “She was an obstacle anyhow. Fine to use when I was a trainee, but slow and so reactive here and in The Field. You did Stateless a favor by eliminating her.” Glen's eyes are on Callum as she says that.

  “I thought you went to shower,” he says, meeting her gaze.

  “I had to take a call.”

  He turns back to face me. “We need to treat these wounds,” he says, patting my cuts with the peroxide. “Do you have a first aid kit?”

  I point to a drawer. He finds the small orange box and opens it with one hand, the other pressing on a wound at my chin.

  “Treat the wounds. I'll get the crew to clean up Angelica. You'll have to meet with Svetnu to explain that.” She points to the living room, as if Angelica's body were a spilled glass of milk. “Kina did a number on her. The level of body abuse is extensive.” Eyes crawl over me, top to bottom, a deliberately intimidating stance. “You had a lot of feelings about her.”

  “And you just stood there and watched?” Callum accuses.

  “I had to fight off Kina, too,” Glen says softly, eyes down in a submissive gesture.

  Her words make a spike of shame run through me. “What?”

  “You turned on me.” She pulls up her sleeve, showing deep scratches. “When I tried to stop you from killing her.” A big, loving smile I haven't seen since we were kids covers her face. “It's fine. You weren't yourself for a moment there.”

  “Did you elevate?” Callum asks her.

  “Me? No. I save that for The Field. Don't need it here.” A flick of her wrist and with the other hand, she grabs something in her fingers. Short strands of hair.

  The reddish color of Angelica's.

  “Speaking of the field,” she says, just as Callum's about to speak, “you need to get back to it.”

  “Me?” I squeak.

  “No, him. He has to find someone. Svetnu assigned him to it.” She looks at Callum. “You need to get back out there.”

  “I told him the same thing.”

  She nods approvingly. “Then we're all on the same page. I'm sure Svetnu told you to take your time,” she adds, facing Callum. “This isn't a fast hit. Surveil him. Gather intel.”

  “I'm not leaving Kina.”

  She snorts. “Kina can take care of herself.” A glance at Angelica, then a smirk. “Obviously.”

  “Who knows when the next attack will occur?” Callum grinds out.

  I reach for him, then pull my hand back, pretending I'm just scratching my knee. A physical display of affection in front of Glen would be a very bad idea.

  “Angelica was clearly the one orchestrating the attacks on Kina,” Glen declares, tapping on her phone. “And now she’s dead. I'll take care of her. You need to infiltrate the group you've been assigned to.”

  “What group?”

  “Your target's workplace. His social circle.”

  “He has a social circle?”

  “Work and social are highly intertwined.”

  Something in his expression sets me on alert. “Of course. Good idea. Find my way in, gather trust, extract information, and eliminate targets.”

  “You sound like a fifth-year trainee.”

  “Hey, we're taught that system for a reason. It works.”

  “My field assignment is different.”

  “Is it? Screwing the president isn't any different from befriending a special ops private security guy.”

  Glen bristles. “I'm playing this game at a whole different level than you are, Callum.”

  “That's the difference, Glen: This isn't a game to me. It's real life.”

  “Do what you're ordered.”

  “I don't take orders from you.”

  “Of course not. Svetnu laid it all out.”

  “You're right,” he says unexpectedly.

  She grins. “Always am.”

  But he's lying. I can tell.

  And I don't know why.

  2

  Callum

  Finding Kina in a pool of blood with Glen standing over her and Angelica dead was not how I thought my goodbyes would go.

  Glen leaves for the second time, and the sound of the outer door closing makes me feel like prey as the predator moves out of sight. My shoulders drop slightly, and I hear the giant whoosh of air that comes from Kina. We're relieved. We shouldn't be. Glen’s our team member, and yet...

  “I'm not sure I killed Angelica,” Kina blurts out. “Wouldn't she have defensive wounds if I did? I mean, more than just scratches? Glen claims I attacked her, too, and that's why my own sister has blood all over her shirt and sweater.”

  “Do you think that?”

  “No.”

  “We could review tapes.”

  Covertly, using my body as a shield, I slip her the chip jammer. She presses it against her wrist, no reaction discernible on her face. She's smooth. Unflappable. After killing someone, some operatives go into a mental lockdown mode, vital signs completely normal, the work giving them a sense of clarity and focus that would destroy someone with a “normal” emotional makeup.

  Kina's never been in The Field. Never been trained for that. And yet, she has all the right instincts.

  “There aren't any cameras in here. A few years ago, they decided to remove them, and they never replaced them. I'm not important enough.” She glances down at my arm, at the jammer bar.

  “Maybe that's what they said to you, Kina, but everyone is recorded.”

  “Not the leaders.”

  “I'm sure someone, somewhere, can see even those tapes.”

  “You're that certain?”

  “The tapes exist. They always exist. There isn't a moment of our lives that hasn't been documented.”

  “How would we get our hands on them?”

  “I'm sure I can now. Is it that important to you?” I pat my breast pocket. “I have the wet flash drive. You have yours. We've already dug into the computer system enough to possibly trigger a review. I think laying low for now is the smart approach.”

  She considers my words, eyes moving in a slow back-and-forth motion that makes it clear she's strategizing. One blink, and then:

  “You're right. We can always look later.”

  “Later?”

  “After you find your brother.”

  “I have to find McDuff first.”

  “McDuff? Where have I heard that name before?”

  “He was Jane Borokov's personal security guy. He was there the day Romeo shot Lily Thornton, thinking she was Jane. Remember?”

  “No. I don't.”

  “I know we talked about him in the meeting where you learned Glen was the one who wanted you to be the training body.”

  “I think it's pretty clear that was Angelica.”

  “Is it?” I stop rubbing antibiotic cream on her forehead and gaze into her eyes. “Don't you think Glen has it in for you?”

  “Why would my own twin do that?”

  “You really think she isn't capable?”

  Kina shudders. “I think we're all capable of atrocities.”

  “You would never, ever push the leaders to make her the body, though.”

  “No. I wouldn't. And I refuse to beli
eve that Glen did that to me.”

  “But–”

  “Look. I have a sister. She's been with me since we were in the womb. We share DNA. We had our own language when we were little. We were beaten for speaking it here at camp, but we did it anyway. She's a part of me and I'm a part of her, and it will always be that way. You have a brother out there,” she adds, the words making my head jerk up sharply. “I know you weren't raised with him, but he's your blood.”

  “I was raised with him until I was four. Why can't I remember more?”

  “We were trained not to. Our dreams were dissected. We were told they were psychological fantasies that represented something else. We were systematically questioned until the details got re-interpreted. And for all the right reasons.”

  “Right reasons?”

  “I told Glen that we were wanted. Our mother used fertility clinic treatments to have us. We don't know about your parents, but they had you. They had your brother. We were...”

  “Taken. We were taken from our parents.”

  “But we don't know why. And we do know that the society outside this compound is immoral and evil. People are mindless drones.”

  “You haven't spent nine years out there like I have, Kina. That's not entirely true.”

  “I've never even left the compound, Callum.”

  “We need to remedy that.”

  “Not if it puts the babies in danger.”

  “We can find a way to do both.”

  “If you can, then do it.” Her hand goes to my forearm. It stays, pressing down on me, the heavy weight of responsibility concentrated in that single gesture.

  The weight of her heart is in there, too.

  I pull her into my arms on impulse, her small sound of pain as her eyebrow brushes against my shoulder making me let go.