Authors: Chanel Cleeton
He moves gracefully, every step sharp and sure. There’s a confidence to the way Luke moves, one I can’t help but envy. Sometimes I wonder if he ever takes a wrong step. He swings his leg over the railing, then the other one. There’s no fear, no hesitation in his movements. He grips the metal, his body swinging down. His height helps him here; after all, for him it’s a shorter fall.
He hits the ground with much more ease than I did.
“I thought I told you to run.”
“I didn’t listen.”
“Of course, you didn’t.” He gestures toward the alleyway. “Come on. This way.”
We set off at a run. I let Luke take the lead, following him down a convoluted series of streets. At times, it seems like we’re lost; we double back, retracing our steps several times. If it were anyone else I would be worried, but it’s Luke—he’s planned even our escape route to perfection. With each step and the distance we put between us and the hotel, I feel as though a weight is being lifted off me. All I want is to get back to London. To get back to my sister.
I lose my footing, tripping on the uneven ground. Without breaking stride Luke reaches out, his hand finding mine, grabbing me, pulling me along. Suddenly Luke stops, leaning his body against a building, the shadows hiding us from the main view of the street.
The sun will rise soon and we’ll no longer have the cover of darkness.
I pause in front of him, breathing heavy, my hands fisted on my hips. “Why did you stop? Is your wound bothering you?”
My body’s ready to give out and I wasn’t stabbed days ago. I have no idea how he’s keeping up.
“I’m fine. I think we put enough distance between us for now. I just need to figure out how to get us out of here.”
“All of our stuff is at the hotel.” The important stuff—passports, et cetera—we kept on us. But if they found us at the hotel, they know the names we’ve been using. And they know what we did, likely know my sister’s missing.
“They have it now. We have to use the backup IDs I got us.”
“Will they hold?”
The first set—the ones we flew in on—were meticulously vetted by Luke’s guy in London. But he didn’t have enough time to be as thorough with the second set before we left for Cuba.
“They’ll have to.”
We’re leaving a lot to chance and luck. Assets aren’t big on either; we thrive on planning, coordination, skill. This is strictly improvisation.
“I’m not as worried about getting out of Cuba as I am about getting into London.”
Luke frowns. “We’re not going to London.”
“What do you mean, we’re not going to London? Grace is in London. You’re crazy if you think I’m leaving my sister, especially since we don’t know what the hell is going on here. I’m going back for Grace.”
“I’m not saying you can’t, but we need to be smart about this. I recognized one of the guys. I’ve seen him around my mother. He’s one of the Academy’s lackeys. They know. And if they know what we’re up to, then you can bet they’ve put alerts on all of our travel documents, frozen our bank accounts. I promise you—right now assets at the Academy are working to shut down our lives. They sent those men here to get us. To capture or kill us, I don’t even know which. We aren’t safe anymore. And if you want to try to survive this—if we’re going to survive this—then we need more resources.”
This is exactly what I feared. And the worst part is, I worry that my careless actions have put my sister in danger. My only prayer is that Father Murphy is exactly who I hoped he was.
I’ve never been in this position. I don’t have a plan; don’t know where I’m headed next. My whole life has been controlled by the Academy. They’ve directed every step I’ve taken, set the course for my future. Now I’m on my own and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Trusting Luke is becoming more of a necessity than anything else. He’s more experienced; he’s lived as an asset whereas I’ve been playing at it.
“Where are we going?”
“I have a bank account and a deposit box. The Academy knows nothing about it. I kept it for something exactly like this.”
“Where?” I ask, resigned to the inevitable. As much as I hate it, I know he’s right.
“Switzerland.”
###
It’s hard to be free when someone else holds the reins.
Our new documents hold enough to get us out of Cuba and on a plane to Switzerland. My normal calm has been obliterated, replaced by something tense and uneasy. I still haven’t heard from my sister.
“You’re freaking out.”
I know he’s talking about more than just the flying.
I don’t bother to look at Luke. Instead, I focus on my hands. Scrapes cover them from my jump off the balcony. They join the calluses, nicks, and scars that were already there—and the long scar on the inside of my wrist. I can’t tear my gaze away from that spot. And suddenly, it’s time. Luke had my back in Havana. I need to trust him. I need to tell him all of it.
“I didn’t want to kill you.”
I don’t know who is more surprised to hear the words come out of my mouth—Luke or me.
“The Director called me into her office. Told me it was time for me to start going out on assignments.” I remember the day so clearly—the nerves, and underneath it all—the excitement. I hate that now; I loathe the memory of the humming in my blood that I felt when I realized I was going to really and truly become an asset.
I was a fool.
“I was surprised. I hadn’t been expecting to get my first assignment for a few months. But she told me I was one of the Academy’s best assets.” There had been no praise in that statement; it had been delivered matter-of-factly. “And then she told me my first test was to kill you. I told her I couldn’t. That I wouldn’t.”
I want to look at him, but I’m also afraid. Afraid of the condemnation I may see there.
“She nodded. Like she understood. And then she brought up Grace.” My fingers clench reflexively. “She told me if I didn’t kill you, she would kill Grace. She told me that you were a traitor, that you had betrayed the Academy, all of us. That if I didn’t kill you, I was no better. That I would be a traitor and my actions would make Grace a traitor. I didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to protect my sister. I was young, and I was stupid, and I made the wrong choice. I should have told you. I should have trusted you. I should have fought back.”
I turn now, my gaze meeting Luke’s.
“I wish I could say more. I wish there was a way for me to make you understand how much I’ve regretted my choice. I’ve thought of you every day. I’ve missed you every day. I’ve hated myself every day. I stopped feeling like a person after I killed you. I felt like a machine—a weapon. You asked me why I go to the church in Knightsbridge. I went the first time after that night. I went because I couldn’t not go. I’ve lived with your memory, with your ghost for two years. I’m sorry. I know it’s not enough. Not even a little bit. I don’t know what to say. I know there’s nothing I can say. You’re right—I don’t know how to let anyone in. But I want to try. If you’ll let me, I want to be friends again. I’ve missed you. So much.”
Luke opens his mouth to speak and everything hinges on his next words. Somewhere along the way he’s become important to me, maybe he never stopped being important to me. His forgiveness has become everything.
His voice is thick with emotion and his eyes tell me everything I need to know.
“They teach us not to fight back. Our whole time there, they taught us not to fight who they said we were. Not to question them. They used our training and obedience to control us. We were the ultimate weapons because they trained us to think like the Academy wanted us to think. They used us.” Luke’s gaze blazes with intensity. “They used
us
against each other. Dividing us. Driving a wedge between us. Do you think that was an accident? Do you think they didn’t know what we could do together? They wanted to rip us apart. We can’t let them. We need to stick together through this. I’m not going to let anything happen to you or Grace. But you have to trust me. We have to trust each other.”
His words set off so many conflicting emotions within me. There’s a rush of gratitude, a sense that for the first time in a long time—maybe ever—I’m not alone. Sure I have Grace, but I’m responsible for her. With Luke, I have a partner; it both reassures and terrifies me.
I don’t know if I can change enough to be the girl who plays on a team; I don’t know if I can ever truly let my guard down. But something has changed between us. I can feel it now; I know Luke senses it, too. Suddenly I’m scared in a way that has nothing to do with guns, or the Academy, or even death.
Because looking into Luke’s eyes I don’t see the condemnation I feared, or even the usual wariness that has existed between us. I see something else entirely.
And I don’t have a clue how to handle it.
“I’m safe. I love you. I miss you.”
I reread my sister’s text, memorizing the words. My fingers fly over the keys, typing back a response.
“The Academy knows we’re gone. If you think you’re in danger, run.”
“Did you hear from Grace?”
I nod, unable to tear my gaze away from my phone.
“We’ll be back to get her soon.”
I close my phone, tucking it back into my pocket. I know he’s right; it’s just a matter of making myself believe it.
I hate not having her with me. I miss her—her smiles, her hugs, her stories about her day. Without Grace here, a part of me is missing—the most essential part.
I follow Luke through the airport. There’s no cover now, no point to it. They’re looking for us and no disguise in the world is enough to keep us safe. I watch everyone, absorb everything. Beside me, Luke does the same. We communicate without speaking, our bodies finely tuned to one another.
Relief floods me as we make it through the airport and walk through the doors leading out to the taxi queue. We slip into a taxi quickly, Luke relaying our destination to the driver in flawless French. I lean back against the leather seat, thoughts racing. As far as plans go, I’m not really sure we have one. Cash is the most important need. And weapons. And IDs. Basically we need everything.
“How far is it to the bank?”
“Ten minutes.”
We only have a few hours before our next flight.
Luke reaches out and squeezes my hand. My gaze jerks, riveted to the spot where our flesh meets. It’s only been a week since Luke has been back, but my whole world has been turned on its head. I built a life, or what I thought was a life, on being X. And now I see that it was all just an illusion. I was never the person I thought I was. I wasn’t doing good. I wasn’t helping people. I was a killer, a blunt instrument. And no matter what forgiveness Luke gives me, I can’t be forgiven for my sins.
I’m lost again—just like I was when I first started at the Academy. Then I possessed the barest of memories, random events and flashes of images that when strung together formed some semblance of a life. One I desperately tried to forget.
“I thought I killed my parents.”
I blurt the words out without a care for the driver or for Luke’s reaction. They’ve been weighing heavily on me for years now. The horror of what I thought I had done, of what I thought I took from my sister, has been an albatross around my neck. Luke leans forward and closes the privacy window between the driver and us. He turns his attention back to me, no judgment in his eyes. It’s all the encouragement I need.
“Until you told me about the fire, about your mother, about the Academy being involved, I thought I was responsible,” I continue, my gaze trained out the window, unable to look at Luke. It seems today is my day for confessions and I’m stripping myself bare before him.
“Why?”
I can’t answer his question. Not completely. I’ve never understood why my memory of my childhood is so foggy. It’s as if the whole thing is a haze. I see parts of it, but as hard as I try, I can’t make anything fit. But I remember pieces of the fire…
“I was playing with candles. My mother had this beautiful silver candelabra. She told me that it had been in our family for decades and one day it was to be mine. On special occasions, she would let me light it. I used to like fire. I used to like watching the flames dance.” The memory flashes through, sharp and bright. Me in a blue dress. My mother putting a bow in my hair. “It was my birthday.” How had I forgotten that part? “It was my birthday and she let me light the candles because it was a special day. I told her I would blow them out when we were ready for bed. I didn’t. And then I woke up with the fire.”
“You didn’t start it. I heard them talking. What happened to your parents was no accident.”
“I know that now. But then…” My voice trails off. “The Director told me I was chosen to be an asset—to be an assassin—because of what happened to my parents. Because I killed them. Because I was good at killing. She told me I was born for this. I know it’s stupid. It sounds stupid now. But—”
“But you were a kid. A kid who had lost her parents in a tragedy. A kid who had been through hell.” Luke swears, the word filling the small space.
Anger comes off of him in waves now. It’s as if we’ve changed places. The anger I have carried with me for so long has eased a bit, replaced by a sense of relief. This is my darkest secret, my greatest fear that my sister would discover just how much she lost at my hands. But thanks to Luke, I feel a sense of forgiveness—it’s not much, there’s still so much more I’ve done, but it’s something.
I obliterate the distance between us before Luke even seems to realize I’ve moved. I sense his surprise, turned to something else entirely when my hand sneaks out and wraps around his neck. My fingers stroke the skin there, reaching higher to delve into his dark hair. I normally hate being touched, but right now I can’t imagine
not
touching Luke. Whatever he said the night after we had sex, I don’t believe he’s indifferent to me. This is undoubtedly a spectacularly bad idea and I just don’t care anymore. He wants me just as badly as I want him and I’m tired of running from it.
My lips move next, searching, filling the space between us until my mouth brushes against Luke’s. Hesitantly, at first. And then bolder. I may have started the kiss—and for one glorious moment, caught Luke off guard again—but that’s only as long as it lasts. A moment. The barest brush of flesh against flesh. And then Luke takes over.
There is no control here. There is fire, madness, and a burning in my skin that screams to get closer to his. Whatever has existed between us, whatever barrier has kept us from this tangle of limbs, has been reduced to rubble. In this moment, I want things I never imagined wanting. More than anything I want
him.
Just
him.
This man who accepts me as I am, who knew who I was before I became X. This man who I have hurt, who has forgiven me and protected me, and now fights by my side. And all of the emotions that I’ve kept in check since the day the Director called me into her office and told me to kill Luke, come flooding back.
I wanted him then. I want him now.
His hands are all over me. There is no shame or caution. Only a complete and utter surrender. The hope that for a moment we can be someone else.
This
moment is ours, just ours, private and separate from our lives as assets. And I know that I shall always grip it tightly, protect it,
protect him.
Just like Grace, he is mine now.
His lips ravage mine, taking more than they give, pushing me over the edge. I’ve always thought Luke had a clever mouth—but now? His mouth is destroying me.
“God, X.” He moans against my lips, sending a shiver down my spine.
I can’t speak. Part of me wants to say something, anything. But any words I would have for him are hollow and stick in my throat. I don’t have words for this. Not for how I feel. It’s lust, desire, and angst all balled up into one.
Want.
I jerk back, my emotions overcoming me. Luke’s eyes are wild, his skin slightly flushed. Seeing him like this, knowing that I made him like this, makes me feel a bit better over my own spectacular loss of control. For a few minutes we just stare at each other, not speaking.
Then he flashes me a grin. A very
Luke
grin.
“I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re better than I remembered.”
“You’ve thought about this?”
He laughs, the sound low and rich, sending a shiver down my spine. “Yeah. Only once or twice. Every day for two years.”
I never imagined—
“It’s always been you.”
And with those four words, the rest of my composure dissolves.
It’s always been you.
I’ve never really been anyone to anybody. Only ever someone to Grace, and we’re bound by blood. The rest of my life—most of my life—has been spent training to be a ghost. To not be memorable. With four words, he’s changed that.
“Why?”
I need to know. Need to understand what he sees in me. I’m not ugly, but I’m certainly not beautiful. And my greatest talent? Not exactly something to be proud of. Not to mention what I did to him years ago. What does he see that I don’t?
“Because you’re strong. And brave. Because you’re a fighter.”
Those words, coming from Luke, mean something. If he’d said I was pretty, or had sparkling eyes, or some shit like that, it would have been nice to hear. But this—it staggers me. Luke staggers me.
“Thank you.” A faint blush covers my cheeks.
Luke’s hand slides under my chin, lifting it, our gazes locking. “Partners?”
I nod, the word sliding over me, filling me with warmth. “Partners.”
And just like that, the walls are down.