by Sophie Davis
“Hey there,” I called from the doorway. “Can I come in?”
Charles sat up straighter and ran a hand through his mussed hair.
“Stassi.” He said my name on a long sigh, visibly relieved to see me. “Yes. Please, come in.”
This was truly the last time we’d see each other, our final goodbye. I’d done this once already, but hadn’t appreciated exactly what it meant during the chaos with Baylarian. Realization dawning, the cold fist of fate grabbed hold of my heart and squeezed. I hid my pain behind a smile. He didn’t need to know the truth. No need for both of us to be upset.
“I apologize for my attire. Dr. Carver took my clothes and gave me these.” He plucked at the scrub top, giving the shirt a look of disdain.
His expression made me take stock of my own appearance. I was still wearing the day dress I’d put on that morning in Paris, the fabric now rumpled and stained. I could only imagine what he must think, coming from a world of people who never looked less than perfect.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, inexplicably nervous in his presence.
It was odd. On my home turf, I should have been more relaxed, more at ease with him. But I wasn’t. I couldn’t think of anything to say, couldn’t find a place to put my hands, and couldn’t stop fidgeting.
“Well, thank you,” Charles answered. “You?”
So formal. He’s nervous, too.
“Good. It’s always nice to be home, you know?”
Silence erupted between us like an invisible barrier that we were both afraid to cross. Finally, Charles pointed to an armchair in the corner of his room and invited me to sit with the arch of an eyebrow. I started towards the chair, changed my mind, and altered course.
Charles’s face relaxed into a genuine smile. He held out a hand as I approached, and I threaded my fingers with his. Leaning down, I kissed his forehead, then rested my cheek against his silky golden hair.
“This is goodbye,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. It wasn’t a question.
Lying no longer seemed necessary. Not trusting my voice, I only nodded in response. I wasn’t sure how much Cyrus would tell him, maybe nothing at all. Either way, Charles would soon have no memory of the island, the jump, or our conversation. If they gave him enough memory mod, I might be little more than a whisper in his mind. An itch he couldn’t quite seem to locate, let alone scratch. The thought sickened me.
“Forever goodbye?”
I nodded again.
“Is that what you want?” he asked.
“What I want doesn’t enter the equation,” I replied.
Gently, Charles pushed me back so we were facing each other.
“Is that what you want?” he repeated.
“You don’t understand. You can’t understand. And I can’t explain it to you,” I said, my frustration seeping out.
“I understand more than you might think,” Charles said quietly.
I shook my head. “No. You don’t.”
“Technology beyond comprehension? Women prancing around in less than a cabaret dancer? People who speak English, and yet I cannot understand half the words? I am in the future.”
There wasn’t a trace of uncertainty in his voice.
“Wha—”
Before I could form the words swirling through my mind, Charles grabbed my hand and tugged the sleeve of my dress back to expose the tattoo on my wrist. I tried to pull free, but his grip was firm. Delicately, as if I were made of spun glass instead of flesh and bone, he traced the loops and scrawls of prima as he spoke my name. The act was oddly sensual, and gave me a thrill that started deep in the pit of my stomach. When he brought my wrist to his soft, full lips, my knees went weak. Closing my eyes, I sank onto the bed beside Charles.
His breath tickled my skin as he whispered in my ear, “Is that what you want? Do you want this to be goodbye forever?”
“No.”
His lips found mine, and I lost myself in that kiss. Like puzzle pieces falling into place, we seemed to just fit together.
A knock on the door interrupted our goodbye before it became as involved as I’d have liked. The unfocused look on Charles’s face told me that he felt the same way. A second knock sounded, louder and more insistent.
I reluctantly crawled off of the bed and attempted to smooth my dress.
“Stassi, I’m afraid your time is up,” Cyrus said, poking his head through the door.
Embarrassed, I refused to face my boss.
“One minute, I’ll be right out,” I called.
“Sir, could I speak with you?” Charles asked, tone formal.
“Of course. I have some questions for you, as well.”
Cyrus stepped inside the room.
“Alone,” Charles added.
“Excuse me?” I stammered.
“I think it is best if we speak in private,” Charles told me, his neutral expression rivaling one of Cyrus’s.
“Um, no.” It wasn’t the most eloquent response, but perhaps the truest.
“You need to get some rest, Stassi. You’ve had a long day,” Cyrus chimed in.
“I’m not tired,” I snapped.
“Stassi, please,” Charles pleaded. “Just trust me?”
Trust or not, I was unceremoniously ushered from the room by Cyrus, feeling dumbfounded by the dismissal. I paced the hallway outside of Charles’s room, pausing every so often to listen at the door for snippets of conversation. The damned thing was virtually soundproof. All I could make out was the dull hum of conversation, but no actual words.
I considered visiting with Molly or Gaige to pass the time, but curiosity kept me pacing the same four square feet like an invisible fence held me captive.
What were they talking about? Why wasn’t I allowed inside? How could that have possibly been the last time I’d see Charles? I wasn’t going to be able to say goodbye in private?
I touched my fingertips to my lips, still warm from Charles. My cheeks flushed at the thought of our kiss. I had to see him again. Screw Cyrus and his orders. I just needed a little more time to say a proper goodbye. Both Charles and I deserved that much.
An hour after closing behind me, the door to Charles’s room finally swung open again. A pale, drawn, and, if I didn’t know better, troubled Cyrus emerged. His hands shook slightly as he ran them over his face. Shoulders hunched, the confidence my boss always emanated had vanished. He seemed to have aged ten years in that one hour.
Forgetting my irritation, I hurried over to my boss.
“Cyrus? Cyrus, what’s wrong?”
“Oh, Stassi. You’re still here. Good. Very good.” He cleared his throat, attempting to compose himself. “We need to talk tomorrow. For now, you should go back to your bungalow. It’s very late.”
“But, Charles…. Please, Cyrus, just give me—”
“Charles will be here in the morning, Stassi. You can see him then,” my boss quietly interjected.
“Really?” I asked hopefully.
“In fact,” Cyrus continued, talking over me. “You can show him around the island. He’ll be your responsibility until he starts his training.”
“Training?”
“Yes, Charles DuPree is our newest runner.”
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading The Syndicate! We genuinely hope you enjoyed the book.
As an indie author, reviews are incredibly important. As we all know, reviews can make or break most anything now; I rarely buy anything without checking out what others have to say, especially when it comes to books. And the more reviews something has, the more likely it is that others will take a chance on it.
Because of this, I hope you’ll consider reviewing The Syndicate. Posting an honest—good or bad!—review on your blog, the retail site for your E-reader, and Goodreads allows authors like us to gain new readers and keep doing what we’re doing.
Read on!
XOXO, the Sophies
First and foremost, I want to thank my partner in crime, hetero-lifemate, a
nd the best friend a girl could ask for. You’ve never given up on me, and I will never be able to thank you enough for that. I know it’s been really hard since I became sick, but you never stopped pushing me to make our collective dreams come true. And even though this one, silly idea of mine ended up taking us a full year to research and write, you never gave up on it. Thank you for being the kindest, most thoughtful, and most compassionate person who’s ever lived. Here’s to another ten years of laughing hysterically, painful singing, dance parties, traveling the world, finding adventures, and dominating life. I love you!
Thank you to our whole BEA crew! We honestly could not have done it without all of you, and are so grateful that you guys came from all over the country to help us. It was great getting to hang out with all of you, and we hope we’ll be able to do it again soon, sans stress. SD retreat in the Caribbean??
As always, thank you to Barbara Gordon, who holds a very special place in our hearts. You’ve been with us since the beginning, and we will never be able to convey how grateful we are for your help, time, dedication, and support. Thank you for always being there for us, we appreciate you more than you’ll ever know. No matter where this journey takes us, we hope you’re up for the ride! And even if we never write another word or post another promo pic, I know our friendship will endure.
Thank you to Jaclyn Mara, who came up with the tagline for the cover of this book! But more than that, thank you for being so incredibly supportive of us. From making quote edits to acting as our blog liason, you dove into this craziness with both feet and an infectious enthusiasm. We are so glad we met you, and so grateful for your friendship.
Thank you to Victoria Schmitz, for the years of support you’ve given us. You were such a trooper in New York, and such a huge help to us. Thank you for being an invaluable member of our team! We adore you, and hope we’ll be able to get together again soon.
Thank you to Patrick Gordon—for BEA, for all of your time, and for insisting that we keep the metal stand that now holds our dog leashes and keys. It was great to meet you, and we are really grateful for all the time you’ve spent helping us. I know your sister roped you in to all of this, but you’ve been so supportive and we really appreciate it!
To Justess- my kindred sleuthing spirit! Thank you for being so supportive of our writing, taking a chance on our books, and for telling others about them, too! I’m so glad I’ve gotten to know you, and hope you enjoy your surprise.
To Kelly Hillman, thank you for showing such a keen interest in this crazy journey we’re on, and for being so proud of us. Your enthusiasm spurs us on, and you remind us to stop every once in a while and appreciate how far we’ve come. I’m so happy that Bunny has officially made you my sister. We love you!
Thank you to our families and all of our parents, for teaching us to dream big and work hard. You guys taught us both that anything is possible, and we never would’ve been able to do all of this without you. Thank you for your unfailing support.
And finally, but mostly importantly, thank you to our readers. It never ceases to amaze us how you guys have embraced the wild stories in our heads. We wouldn’t be where we are without each and every one of you. Every time you read and review one of our books, tell a friend about them, or post on social media, you’re supporting our dreams. For that, we are eternally grateful.
"Sophie Davis" is the pseudonym for two best friends, roommates, and now writing partners. The pair met at Penn State's Dickinson School of Law in 2005 and instantly bonded over their love of great books and bad horror movies. After they graduated, when one longed for the ability to read minds so she wouldn't have to study for the bar exam, a Saga was born. When the Talented Saga went on to be an internationally bestselling series, the girls decided to throw caution to the wind and follow their shared life-long dream of being writers.
The duo currently lives in Washington, D.C. with a poodle and a rescued mutt. The pups are their faithful companions—with frequent social media appearances—as the girls navigate the world of Indie Publishing.
For more information on Sophie Davis, visit: www.sophiedavisbooks.com
To contact the girls directly, email them at: [email protected].
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