by Julia Sykes
Her eyes… They’d lost their sparkle, their life. I’d seen death before. I knew what it looked like.
“We’re launching further investigation into the Latin Kings’ activities in that neighborhood,” Parkinson said calmly, as though I wasn’t breaking down, as though she wasn’t watching a man’s soul ripping apart right in front of her.
“I want to be there,” I seethed, the burning need for vengeance clouding over my burgeoning grief. I couldn’t face the agony, so I’d embrace the fury. “Put me back in the field.”
Her lips pressed to a thin line. “You are going back in the field. I don’t have a choice in that matter. But I’m sending you to Chicago. You won’t be working in the D.C. area. You’re not coming near this case.”
“What?” I burst out. “You can’t do that. You can’t do that to me!”
“I can and I will,” she said grimly. “You initiated a relationship with a recruit. I won’t have a predator here at Quantico. I gave you a second chance when you came here as an addict, and you’ve only proven to me that you’re not fit to be an agent. But your father won’t let me fire you. So I’m sending you back to Chicago.”
A predator? “I love her,” I seethed, unable to say it in the past tense.
“Then I’m sorry for your loss,” she replied, still ice cold. “But I won’t have you here any longer. You leave for Chicago tomorrow. Pack your things and get off my base.”
I slammed my fists against her desk as rage ripped through me.
“Now, Harper,” she barked. “Or I’ll have you forcibly removed. Then your father won’t be able to cover up your mess, and you’ll be out of the Bureau for good.”
I snarled, but I turned and stalked out of her office. I had to get out. If I stayed for one second longer, I wasn’t at all certain I’d be able to stop myself from attacking Parkinson. She’d gotten Natalie…
Killed.
She’s dead. She’s dead.
I ran outside and vomited into the bushes, my body rebelling against the truth.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t live without her.
Low, derisive whispers threaded through my mind, and I realized I was attracting an audience. I couldn’t face them. The next person who met my eye would get their neck snapped. Impotent rage clawed at my insides, demanding to be unleashed on someone, anyone.
But I wouldn’t even have a shot at vengeance. Parkinson had seen to that.
I straightened and started sprinting, putting as much distance between myself and the Director as possible. The air was cold on my face as I sped through it, cooling the hot tears that streaked down my cheeks.
I can’t live without her. I can’t.
In my mind, my future crumbled away. All I’d wanted was to be with her. I’d have given up everything to have her. We’d been so close to the life we wanted. We were going to leave Quantico and be happy together. I hadn’t cared where we went, as long as I was with her.
There was a way for me to be with her again.
“Hold on, kitten,” I murmured. “I’m coming.”
I made it to my apartment and flung open the door, barely slowing my pace as I ripped my way through my belongings until I found what I was looking for.
There. At the bottom of my duffle bag. My last bottle of pills.
I’d brought them with me to prove to myself that I was stronger than their allure. Natalie had helped me find that strength. She’d believed in me when no one else had. Not even me.
I unscrewed the cap and tossed the pills into my mouth. Some of them spilled out, but most of them clogged in my throat. I ran to the sink and sucked in water, forcing the pills down.
Then I sank to the floor, drawing my knees up to my chest and dropping my head in my hands as I waited.
Jason… Her final word—my name on her bloody lips—tormented me.
“I’m coming, kitten,” I promised.
Promise me you’ll be okay.
I shook my head in a sharp jerk. I couldn’t be okay. Not until I was with her again.
Promise me.
She’d been in pain, but she’d forced out the words in her final moments. She’d cared more about making sure I was okay than she did about getting out of that hellhole.
My stomach twisted, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the pills or the agony of losing her.
I closed my eyes. Just a few more minutes. I’ll be with her in a few minutes.
Behind my closed lids, I saw her face. Not slack in death, but shining, alight with joy and love. God, she was so sweet and gentle. But tough as nails when I needed her to be. She’d come into my dark life and dragged me out into the light by sheer force of will.
Promise me. This time, I saw her face as she said it. Not bloody and pale, but whole and fierce. Promise me you’ll be okay.
She’d never forgive me if I followed her into death.
I lurched toward the toilet and shoved two fingers down my throat. I gagged, and the pills I’d taken came back up. My stomach heaved until all the poison had left my system. When there was nothing left, I sank down onto the cool tiles, my body shaking with desperate sobs.
You’re so strong. I heard her ragged words in my mind, and a bitter, maddened laugh choked up my throat.
I was weak. I always had been. She’d been my strength, my salvation, and now she was gone. I’d never be strong again.
I was utterly ruined.
Chapter 15
Natalie
“Jason?” I tried to say his name, but I barely managed a strangled croak. My mouth and throat were painfully dry, and my entire body ached. I tried to open my eyes, but they were too heavy. Half-formed thoughts swam through my muddled mind, none of them able to fully coalesce.
“You’re okay, Natalie,” a strange, male voice said. “Go back to sleep.”
A wave of warmth washed through my system, and the discomfort ended.
My chest throbbed with a dull but persistent ache, and my head spun. I stirred, and agony knifed through me. I stilled with a whimper.
Something was very wrong. And I was…
Where was I? I couldn’t see, couldn’t think.
Jason.
I needed…
“She’s waking up again,” the strange man said. “Put her back under.”
Warmth enfolded me, and the world dissolved back into nothingness.
Awareness returned slowly. My thoughts were in tatters; tangled threads I couldn’t make sense of. Emotion was clearer.
Fear.
My heart fluttered with it, beating against the inside of my chest so hard that it caused me physical pain. My breaths came in short, sharp gasps. My aching lungs protested, but I couldn’t stop gasping.
“Calm down, Natalie.” The strange man’s voice. An unfamiliar hand on my shoulder. I couldn’t tell if it was meant to comfort me or pin me in place.
Panic spiked, and my eyes snapped open. I immediately squeezed them shut again when harsh, sterile light seared my retinas.
“You’re okay,” the voice said. It was low, deep and soothing. “You’re safe.”
Safe.
Horrible memories played behind my closed lids: the stairwell exploding with violence; Agent Thurman falling; agony ripping through my chest when the bullet hit.
Come back to me. Jason’s furiously spoken words rang through my mind, my first clear thought since I’d awoken.
My eyes flew open again, searching for him.
“Jason.” I wasn’t capable of saying his name. My throat was too dry, my vocal cords hoarse from disuse.
A cup of water appeared before me.
“Here,” the voice prompted, soft and kind. “Drink. You’ll feel better.”
My lips closed around the straw, and I sucked down several gulps. As I drank, I blinked and looked around. I appeared to be lying on a hospital bed.
I’m alive.
Somehow, I’d survived the bullet that had torn through my lungs.
But the fear remained. Something was wrong. Some
thing about the hospital. I couldn’t focus on it, though. I could only think about one thing.
“Where’s Jason?” I asked, my gaze focusing on the man who’d offered me the water.
Kind, toffee brown eyes regarded me with reassuring warmth. “I’m Dr. Alexander Stevens. You can call me Alex,” he introduced himself. “We thought we were going to lose you for a while there. But you’re a fighter.” His white, even teeth showed when he smiled. The handsome young doctor’s calm demeanor should have been disarming, but alarm bells went off in the corners of my mind.
What was wrong with the hospital?
“Where’s Jason?” I asked again.
Alex tucked a lock of his shoulder-length, honey brown hair behind his ear and flipped open a manila folder. He quickly rifled through the papers inside, checking through what I assumed was information regarding my condition.
“You mean Agent Jason Harper?” he asked, still looking at my chart.
I shouldn’t have used Jason’s first name. He was still my instructor, and “Jason” implied an inappropriate familiarity.
But I’d almost died. I’d thought I’d never see him again. Worrying about keeping our jobs at the Bureau seemed laughable in light of the situation.
“Yes,” I made myself say calmly. “Agent Harper. Where is he?”
Alex’s golden eyes found mine again. This time, they studied me far too incisively.
“Why would Agent Harper be here?” he asked.
I swallowed down the urge to scream for Jason. Maybe this was for the best. If he wasn’t here, then our relationship hadn’t been jeopardized. Maybe he was staying away to save my career.
What’s wrong with the hospital?
“Where’s my family?” I asked abruptly. Jason was the first person I wanted to see, but if I’d been at death’s door, why were my parents not here? They might not be the most doting people, but they loved me.
I glanced around the small, bright white room. No cards. No flowers.
Just Alex.
I don’t hear anyone else, I finally realized. I should be able to hear coughs, sniffles, paperwork being shuffled, phone conversations. But no muted sounds penetrated the closed metal door to my room. The walls were painted stark white, and the floor was… concrete? Why was the door metal? The whole place looked industrial, with exposed pipes overhead.
“Where am I?” I asked when Alex didn’t answer me about my family.
His hand was still on my shoulder. It firmed, pressing me down into the mattress. Instinct to fight kicked in, but I recognized that my body was too weak to fend him off.
Breathe. Assess the scenario.
“You’re at a special ops facility,” Alex told me. “We’ve recruited you because we think you’d make an excellent agent.”
“What?” I asked, dumbstruck. “But where’s my family?”
Where’s Jason?
I didn’t dare to ask about him again. A pit was forming in my stomach. Somehow, I knew not to draw more attention to my relationship with Jason.
Alex’s kind smile stayed fixed in place, but his eyes continued to examine me, as though they could probe into my mind and learn all of my secrets.
“As I said, you’ve been recruited,” he continued. “Your family would be proud of you.”
“Would be? What do you mean? I don’t understand what’s happening.”
His smile turned indulgent. “Of course you don’t. Not yet.”
My unease magnified. “I’d like to talk to my parents, please.”
“I’m afraid you can’t at the moment. You have a decision to make, Natalie. You see, you died a few weeks ago. The world thinks you’re gone. We saved you. You can have a new life in our division. You’ll do great things. But you have to leave your old life behind.”
“He thinks I’m dead?” My voice was barely more than a whisper.
Jason. I have to get to Jason. What would he be going through right now? What would I do if I thought he were dead?
I’d go insane.
“Everyone thinks you’re dead,” Alex confirmed, speaking calmly, as though what he was telling me wasn’t horrific. “And our division would like to keep it that way. You can do so much more for us if you don’t exist. I’m giving you a choice, Natalie. Do you choose to work with us?”
I stared into his eyes. They were such a warm, golden color, but they sent a chill straight through my soul. Primal urges told me to fight him, to flee. But my exhausted, aching body wasn’t in any shape for that.
“How long have I been here?” I asked instead of answering him right away, buying time and making a play for information.
“Nearly a month,” he said. “You’ll be feeling weak now, but you’ll make a full recovery. You’ll be an extremely valuable asset.”
“And everyone thinks I’m dead?” I knew the truth even before I asked. The only thing that would have kept Jason from me was death. Otherwise, he would have been by my side every second until I awoke.
“That’s right. I know this is a lot to take in. I’ll give you some time to think it over. Now, you could use a real meal. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Okay,” I agreed, trying to keep my mounting panic from showing on my face. “Thank you.”
He gave me one last bland smile before leaving the room. When he opened the door, I tried to look past him, but it swung shut with a metallic clang before I could see more than further white walls and concrete.
My mind spun. I took a deep breath, and the relatively light pain in my chest let me know I’d healed far more than I could have if I’d only just woken up from getting shot.
Nearly a month. Jason’s thought I was dead all that time.
I couldn’t leave him like that. He was strong, but he needed me to make him accept his strength. What had happened to him in the time I’d been unconscious? Were his nightmares back? Was he using again?
If he is, we’ll deal with it together, I resolved. We could face anything together.
But first, I had to get out of this strange place. CIA or not, the US government had no right to hold me here without telling my loved ones that I was alive.
But something told me Alex wouldn’t take it well if I refused his offer to join their special ops division. My instincts told me that he was dangerous, despite his mild-mannered appearance.
A faint, distant scream penetrated the metal door. It was high, feminine. No noise had slipped past that door since I’d awoken, and all my senses went on high alert in response to the sound of distress.
Without thinking my actions through, I swung my feet from under the covers and settled them on the floor. The concrete was cool beneath my bare soles, and air whispered through the opening at the back of my hospital gown. When I tried to stand, my legs nearly collapsed under me. My muscles had weakened during my unconsciousness.
I gritted my teeth and forced my knees to stop shaking. I began to take jerky, hesitant steps toward the door. When I managed to reach it, I eased it open a crack and peered out. The hallway was thrown into painful relief by exposed fluorescent lighting, which reflected off the white-painted blocks on either side. The gray concrete floor continued throughout.
Where am I?
My instincts had been right: this certainly wasn’t a hospital.
The scream sounded again, much louder now that the door was open. Acting automatically, I pushed my way into the corridor and started stumbling toward the sound. The woman was agonized. I had to get to her, had to help.
I planted my right palm against the rough wall, seeking support as I hobbled toward the sound of pain at a lurching pace. I followed the screams to another metal door a handful of yards down from my room. I shoved it open, desperate to get to the woman.
My stomach dropped, and time froze.
She was strapped down to what looked like a gynecologist’s table, her ankles bound in the stirrups where her legs were spread wide. Something silvery and metallic had been inserted into her vagina, and wires were attached at
various points on her naked body.
She convulsed on a shriek, and she twisted against the restraints around her wrists. Her pale blue eyes focused on me, and they widened with terror.
“Run!” Elena screamed at me.
Forcing the horror aside, I stumbled toward her. I nearly fell onto her, but I caught myself on the edge of the table and began working at the leather cuff around her wrist. My fingers shook violently, and bile rose in the back of my throat. I couldn’t look at her face, couldn’t see what was being done to her body.
“You have to run,” she forced out, panting through her pain.
“I’m not leaving you.”
I almost got the first cuff free when pain slammed into me. A hard jolt ripped through my body. All my muscles tensed, then went completely limp. I dropped, hitting the concrete hard.
“I was curious to see if you’d help her,” Alex said from above me, sounding no more than mildly interested. “Elena has told me all about you. How she hates you. How you think you’re better than her. How jealous she is of you. Elena doesn’t have any secrets from me.” He cocked his head at me. “I wonder what secrets you’ll tell me.”
“You can’t do this,” I hissed, forcing the words out through clenched teeth. “Not even the CIA.”
He laughed, the deep sound rich with amusement. “Welcome to Division 9-C.”
“What is Division 9-C?” I managed.
“Your new employer,” he replied with the same bland smile. “You’re going to be a loyal agent by the time we’re finished with you. Your file is very promising.”
I tried to shove myself up and launch myself at him. His thumb pressed down on a small black device he held in his hand, and the bolt of pain hit me again. I fell back onto the concrete, boneless.
“Your new implant seems to be working,” he said with clinical satisfaction, lifting the black device so I could see it more clearly. “This will prevent you from fighting me. It controls a small device I’ve implanted in your shoulder. I’ll know where you are at all times, and if you step out of line, you’ll get a nasty shock. But I think you’ve worn yourself out enough for one day. You need rest before we can start the program.” He pulled a syringe out of his pocket and swooped down over me.