Authors: Chanel Cleeton
Groups of girls surround me, chattering with anticipation for the coming attractions. I chose my movie wisely; it’s one of those splashy romantic comedies. The girls giggle, eating popcorn and talking about their plans for the evening. My hands shake.
I check my watch again, the numbers glowing in the dark. It’s been thirty minutes since Luke dumped me in Leicester Square, each minute creeping by with agonizing slowness. There’s a procedure for these situations. If we’re in trouble, we’re supposed to call a special number within the Academy and a team will be dispatched to assist us.
“Hot guy incoming,” a girl in front of me whispers, her friends breaking out into nervous giggles.
Relief fills me at the sight of Luke climbing the theater steps. I temporarily forget I’m angry with him, that things are fucked up between us. In that instant, he’s the same Luke he’s always been. And most importantly, he’s alive.
“Babe, sorry I’m late.” Luke slides into the seat next to me. His arm wraps around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. I stiffen. The scent of his cologne hits me—and something else—a metallic smell I know all too well.
His lips brush my ear, teasing a shiver out of me. “Play along,” he whispers.
“What happened?”
“They’re in Leicester Square. I got one, but there are more out there. It wasn’t just one car.”
“How many?”
“Six guys. Two cars.”
“We need to call the Academy.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Don’t be stupid. It’s procedure. We can’t handle six guys on our own.”
Luke sucks in a deep breath. I pull back slightly, putting several inches between our bodies. Something sounds off about Luke’s breathing.
“What’s wrong?”
“One of the guys got me.” He pulls his jacket to the side. Even in the dark theater, the flickering lights from the screen illuminate where the fabric has been sliced, blood seeping through his T-shirt. Pain slashes across his face. “He had a knife.”
I put pressure on the wound, shuddering at the wetness there. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. We have to get you to a doctor.”
It’s a fight to keep the panic out of my voice. I’m out of my depth here, and more than anything, I need him by my side to get out of this safely. And despite everything between us, I hate to see him in pain.
“It’s fine. I just need to get out of here. The guy barely grazed me.”
“It’s not fine. You could die.” Most of my assignments don’t require first aid; if a man’s bleeding, it’s usually because I caused it. I have no idea what to do next. “You’re in no condition to fight if they find us.”
Luke hesitates for a beat. “I have a flat. Not far from here.”
It’s not ideal, but I can’t think of a better plan right now. Not with Luke bleeding and men searching for us.
“Okay.”
We walk out of the theater, our arms wrapped around one another, me struggling to help Luke walk. His jacket is zipped up, covering his wound. He staggers slightly, but otherwise we look like a couple out on a date. My body is tucked against his, my hair down around my face. My mind races—planning, plotting, revising. We need an exit strategy. Fast.
We step outside of the theater, blending into the crowd. It’s a busy time of night in one of the busiest parts of London; we couldn’t ask for better cover. I scan the square, searching for any sight of the men. The crowd is thick tonight, but I don’t see our pursuers.
“Come on. Let’s get a cab.”
We make our way to the street corner, all of my instincts on high alert. I pray we blend in with the throngs of tourists and couples.
After a minute of waiting that feels like an eternity, a black cab pulls up in front of us. Luke pushes me in, exchanging a few words with the driver.
“What about the bike?”
“I dumped the bike. I’ll get it later.” Luke pulls me against him. His breaths sound even shallower, his face pale. “Pretend we’re a couple making out. If someone looks at the window, I want them to think we’re out on a date.”
I lean in closer to him, the woodsy scent of his cologne filling my nostrils. It sends a tingle down my spine and a memory rips through me—of his body against mine, our flesh joining; of heat, and desire, and kisses that blow my mind. He moves closer, his big body invading my space, sucking all the air around me. It’s hard to remember what’s real and what’s just smoke. I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline of the chase or the man beside me, but my world tilts a bit before sanity returns.
“Don’t kiss me,” I warn. “Injured or not, I’ll kick your ass.”
Luke laughs, the sound weaker than normal. His lips tickle my skin and a shiver rips through me that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the man whose mouth ghosts over my skin. Luke wraps his arm around me, pulling me against his body.
“Whatever you do, don’t look out the window,” he whispers.
I’m too afraid to look anywhere. It’s tough for someone like me to admit it, but I’m starting to realize how little I actually know about my role at the Academy.
“Did you find out anything about the guys who were after us?”
Luke hesitates for a second too long. “No.”
Lie.
The Academy’s location, its very existence, is a closely guarded secret. How would someone know to follow us? Why would they follow us? Were they looking for anyone leaving the Academy gates? Or was it Luke that caught their attention?
The memory of someone following me rushes back to me now.
Is it me?
The cab pulls down a dark street.
“We’re here.” Luke leans forward, dropping a twenty-pound note in the driver’s hand. He turns to me, his face far too pale. “Ready?”
I hesitate. I don’t know who sits next to me—the boy I grew up with or the man who has spent the last two years turning into someone who frightens me. What if this is an elaborate ruse to get me back to his place? What if this is his revenge, his attempt to make me pay for trying to kill him? My hand sneaks into my pocket, closing around the knife’s handle.
Something flickers in Luke’s brown eyes. “You’re the one with the advantage here. Do you really think I’d try to kill you? I’m bleeding in the back of the cab; I’m trusting you with my life.”
They’ve taught us from the beginning—
Trust no one
.
“Are you coming?”
Pain is etched across his face; his injury grows worse with each moment that passes. I can help him or I can leave him here to die, the irony not lost on me. I’m getting a chance to undo one of my greatest regrets, to banish the dreams that have plagued me for two years.
I don’t entirely trust him, but I don’t know what I believe anymore.
I get out of the car.
###
“There are bandages in the cabinet in the loo.” Luke gestures toward a long hallway.
“We should call a doctor.”
“No doctors. It’s not that bad. I just need something to stop the bleeding. Trust me, this isn’t the first time I’ve been stabbed.”
Life is definitely different outside of the Academy.
Luke sinks down onto a dark leather couch, his long legs sprawled out in front of him. A lock of hair falls forward onto his face. A thin sheen of sweat covers his brow.
I don’t understand why he’s being so difficult. The Academy has doctors trained in this sort of thing. Besides if the Academy is being watched, we need to warn them. I want to push him, make him tell me the things I fear he’s holding back. I don’t. Each moment that passes is another moment he loses blood.
“Just get the stuff out of the loo.” He’s silent for a moment before playing his trump card. “You owe me.”
Damn.
In a way he’s right, I do.
The loo is small, but modern like the rest of the flat. A cabinet reveals an impressive collection of gauze and bandages. I grab some ointment from the top ledge along with a bottle of antibiotics.
“I’ve got it,” I call out, making my way to the living room. I stop in my tracks. In the short amount of time since I left, he looks even worse. “We have to call a doctor.”
“No.”
“Why? You’re not making any sense. If you’re injured, the Academy needs to know about it. It’s procedure.”
“Fuck procedure. Don’t call the Academy.”
“Why?”
“Just don’t. Promise.”
“I can’t promise you anything. You aren’t giving me anything to go on. Blind trust isn’t going to work here. Not between us. Give me one reason to listen to you. I could get into serious trouble with the Director for not reporting this. Give me one good reason not to.”
“It isn’t safe.”
“What do you mean, it isn’t safe? That’s ridiculous. The Academy is the safest place I can think of right now. They’re the only ones who have the kind of manpower needed to take on six guys.”
“You don’t know everything.”
He’s right, I don’t. I’m sick of living in the dark. I kill for them, they’re months away from sending me out on my own, but seeing Luke and hearing slices of his life outside of the Academy is enough to make me wonder just how prepared I really am.
“Then tell me.”
He opens his mouth to speak and a gasp escapes instead. I sit down beside him, setting the bandages and ointment down next to me. He looks terrible. Part of me wants to leave. I have no business here, taking care of him.
Show no weakness.
But another part of me, the part that ultimately wins out, can’t leave him in pain.
There’ll be time for talking later.
I reach out, my fingers brushing against his T-shirt. He must have unzipped his jacket while I was in the loo. I lift up the edge of his shirt, and for a moment I can’t speak. His body is a patchwork of scars and tattoos, harsh jagged white lines and thick swirls of black ink covered by the top of his shirt. My hands itch to trace the shapes, to stroke the smooth skin over tight, bunched muscle…to soothe. I curl my fingers into a fist.
“It looks like most of the bleeding has stopped.”
“Just wrap it. The ointment will help.”
I refuse to meet his gaze, my eyes cast downward as I go through the motions, my fingers brushing against his bare stomach. His skin is warm to the touch. A noise escapes his throat.
I freeze. “Did I hurt you?”
His eyes close; his head falls back onto the couch. “No.”
I hesitate, turning my attention back to his stomach. Muscles ripple along his abs, proving once again that he isn’t the boy I remembered. Back then his body was beautiful, but now it’s a fucking work of art. The scars just make him
more
; he has a warrior’s build.
I return to cleaning the wound, struggling to keep my hands from shaking. He’s right; the gash is relatively shallow, but I bet it hurts like hell.
I finish the job quickly, grateful I at least paid
some
attention during our meager medical lessons. I twist the top off the antibiotic bottle, scanning the label and pulling out two pills. I hand them to Luke.
“This should help.”
He swallows the pills with a gulp.
“You need to rest.”
“I will.” He leans back on the sofa, studying me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I rise, moving to grab my bag from the counter. “I’m going to head out. If you need anything—”
“Stay. Just stay with me for a bit. Please.”
I want to go home—back to Grace, far away from him. Whatever
this
is, whoever attacked him tonight, I want no part of it. There are still answers he hasn’t given me and questions I’m afraid to ask.
I’m getting a rare look at a different Luke tonight. One I knew when we were younger, but haven’t seen in years. The cockiness, the attitude, the flashy veneer he presents to the world is gone. Replaced by something else, something vulnerable. He looks so different sitting there on the couch. He looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and he’s about to collapse.
I sit next to him, careful to keep some space between us. It’s the last thing I should be doing—
I watch him fall asleep.
Part of me still wants to report this; I’m afraid of what will happen if we don’t. But at the same time, something feels off. The fact that the Director has welcomed Luke back to the fold makes it clear that he was never the traitor they accused him of being.
So what else have they lied about?
Finally Luke wakes, his eyes fluttering open. He seems surprised to see me, but he doesn’t speak. I give him a minute before my impatience gets the best of me.
“What was that back there? Who were those guys and what do they want?”
He sighs. “Have you felt like someone was following you lately?”
“Yeah. Last night. And today.”
“Me too. For weeks now. It’s why I came back. At first, it was just little things. Footsteps I would hear behind me, cars that seemed to be following me. But two gunmen chased me in Venice.”
“Who do you think it is?” I swallow, my fear a boulder in my throat. There’s one thing scarier than men with guns. “Do you think it’s the Academy?”
We’re so tethered to the Academy; it’s unlikely they would need to spy on us even more. And yet—
I can believe the Director capable of just about anything.
“I thought it could be.”
Fuck.
“I came back to figure out if they were following me. At first I thought they were Academy grunts, checking up on me. But then after Venice…” He pauses. “Those guys tried to kill me. Why would the Academy want me dead after they spent so much time and money training me?”
“So you came back here?”
“I didn’t tell them I was back right away. I just watched the school. I started seeing suspicious activity around the Academy. People lurking outside the gates, that sort of thing.”
If Luke is right there’s a huge security breach, one that endangers all of us. But why haven’t we heard anything about it? Why haven’t they put out a security alert? They have a school full of trained assets. Why aren’t we utilizing our skills if the Academy is under attack?
I lean back on the couch, tucking my legs underneath me. “Who do you think those men were?”
“I don’t know.”
I don’t buy that. The Luke I know—
knew
—considered every angle. Sure he’s more impulsive than me, but not enough that he would go into this blind.
“I’ve never heard of anyone at the Academy almost getting caught like that. They pride themselves on the fact that no one knows of our existence.”
Without the protection our secrecy affords us, anyone could come after us. The thought of Grace paying for the weight of my sins sends tendrils of fear licking through me. I’ve killed some bad people with some very bad friends.
“Unless it’s the Academy,” Luke counters.
“Yeah, but why? Why would they bother? They don’t have to follow us. They own us. Our lives are already theirs.”
Luke pushes off the couch, the move sudden. He sways for a moment, unsteady on his feet.
I reach out to brace him. “Do you really think it’s smart for you to walk around? You’re going to make it worse.”
“I need a drink.” He stumbles over to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of dark liquid from the counter. He pours some into a glass, pulling ice from the freezer and dropping it into the crystal with a loud clink. “Want one?”
I shake my head. As he walks closer, the smell of alcohol assails my nostrils. I freeze, a distant memory poking through the periphery. I know that smell.
“What is that?” My voice is calm, betraying nothing of my inner turmoil.
Show no weakness.
“Scotch. You sure you don’t want some?”
“No.” Something about that smell—I can’t put my finger on it—but something makes me nauseous and afraid. I remember the smell…from before.
“You okay?”
I am definitely not okay. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I’m fine.” I stare at the leather couch, shifting my body toward the end opposite Luke. I struggle for calm, to steady the panic building within me. What is it about that smell?
“X?”
I shake off the memory, fighting to bring my mind back to the present before my past drags me down.
“You never answered my question,” I say instead. “What would the Academy want with you? There’s more. Something you’re not telling me.”
Luke hesitates; he’s weighing the pros and cons of trusting me. Unlike me, Luke doesn’t have anyone else. As far as I know, there are no siblings; he came to the Academy alone. He gets along with everyone, but I’ve never seen him be particularly close with anyone either. Besides me.
“There’s more.”
“There is.” His gaze meets mine. “I don’t trust you.”
I don’t trust him either, but the part of me that knows I need help wants to. What if I’d been out with Grace? What would I have done then? Luke’s a powerful ally to have; he’s also a dangerous enemy.
He stares at me now, his gaze penetrating. I know what he’s going to ask me, some part of me has been waiting for it—dreading it—since he came back.
“Did you regret it at all? Or did you just chalk it up to a job well done?”
I can’t meet his gaze. This is the question, the point that can alter the trajectory between us. I could lie and then he’d tell me what I need to hear. I could lie…
I don’t answer him. The truth is both too much and not enough.
“Is it any wonder I don’t trust you?” His eyes judge me as his voice condemns me.
“They told me you were a traitor.” My words sound hollow, the explanation poor, and yet it’s all I have, all I can afford to give before he picks at the scab that’s formed over a wound that never healed.
“You knew me.”
That voice. I’ve never known anyone to speak with such power. It’s as though he’s struck me without lifting a finger.
“Better than anyone,” he continues, adding a kick to his verbal punch. “Did you really think I would sell you out? After everything we’d been through? You were the only person I trusted at the Academy. And you stuck a knife in my back and ripped my throat out.”
I splinter with each accusation. “Do you think I was in any position to question the Director?” I whisper, each word painful to release. “Do you think it was ever a choice? Have you ever heard of an asset turning down an assignment?”
“You could have warned me.”
My laugh is sharp and full of bite. “No. I couldn’t have. Not with Grace. Not with what they would have done to her. They would have known immediately and they would have killed her for my disobedience.
I
would have been the traitor.
“It’s been drilled into us since we got to the Academy. Can you blame me for doing what I was trained to do? Did I want to kill you? No. Did I take pleasure in it? No.”
It sliced me in half.
“I did what I had to for myself and for my sister. You know better than anyone—you don’t tell the Academy ‘no.’” My voice builds with each word, filling with anger, fear, and regret until I’m overflowing with the weight of my sins.
He knows there’s no escaping who we are. It’s inside of us like a cancer eating its way through our bodies. There is no such thing as retirement or escape for people like us. Our lives are death—causing it, mastering it, and then succumbing to it when our utility is gone. There’s nothing else. I hate myself for what I did, but I would have hated myself more if my little sister had been killed because of me.
It doesn’t make what I did right, not even a little bit, but right or wrong, it’s why I did it.
“What would you have done in my place?” I ask, wanting him to admit it, wanting to hear those words fall from his lips. Needing to believe that I’m not entirely the monster he thinks I am. Just a shade less, perhaps.
Luke raises the glass to his lips, taking a long swig of the liquid. It’s a minute before he answers me. He won’t meet my gaze. “I don’t know. Two weeks ago, maybe I would have believed them, would have done what they told me to. I don’t know anymore.”
His words hang between us, tension filling the air. “What happened two weeks ago?”
“Promise. On your sister’s life. Promise you won’t tell anyone.”
“Leave Grace out of it.”
“Promise.”
“I won’t tell anyone. What happened two weeks ago?”
His gaze shutters; his hands clench. “Life’s very different outside of the Academy. You begin to realize just how big the organization is. There are other academies in other cities around the world. It’s more connected than you could ever imagine, but you’ve never felt as alone as you do on the outside.”
I figured there were other academies, but it’s not something that has ever been openly discussed. The secrecy that clouds our lives surrounds the Academy as well. I’m its best asset, but I know practically nothing about the operational side of things, about life on the outside.
“This past year I had twelve assignments.” His mouth tightens in a harsh line. “Twelve kills.”
In a given year, the best assets at the Academy have half that.
“Where were you?”
Luke laughs, the sound nothing like I remember. Luke’s laugh used to fill me with warmth. Now it’s a shell of what it once was.
“Paris, Marrakech, Venice. The list goes on.”
I’d forgotten how good Luke is with languages. It makes sense they would send him to different countries—he could blend anywhere.
For the first time since he’s been back, I look at him. Really look at him. He looks tired. His brown eyes that used to be so warm are now haunted. His lips are slashed in a tight line. He looks harder, so much of his spark gone, replaced by something cold and lethal. I’ve been playing at being an asset; he’s been living it.
And it’s been killing him.
“You’ve changed.”
“Yeah, I have.”
I beat down the tiny flare of sympathy. This is Luke; he’s dangerous and deadly. Except he doesn’t seem dangerous right now. He looks exhausted.
I have to know what put that haunted look in his eyes.
“What happened two weeks ago?” I repeat.