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.
Chapter Twenty
“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.
Chapter Twenty-one
Luke’s bank is one of the nicest places I’ve ever been. We walk through the lobby; Luke speaks to the bank associates, again in French. Everywhere we go he seems to become someone else—a different language, different mannerisms, a different cover. And yet underneath all of it, the essence of him is still so very Luke.
One of the associates leads us down the hallway to an elevator. Luke’s hand reaches out, rubbing against my leg, seeking my hand. We link fingers as he shifts closer, his thigh brushing against mine. I squeeze his hand.
The elevator takes us down to a private room, the journey full of hushed voices and extreme politeness. I’ve never been to Switzerland before, but it’s exactly as I pictured it—expensive, slick, fancy.
The ride is quick. When we reach our floor, the bank manager walks out in front of us, guiding Luke to another door. He enters a code while we wait. The door opens.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he announces before leaving us on our own.
I follow Luke into the room, trying to shake off my unease. There’s no viable exit point and this place is built like a fortress. The odds of us getting out of here if we’re walking into a trap aren’t promising.
“Is this a good idea?” I ask.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s a small room without any hope of exit.”
“It’s fine. Trust me, I doubt we’re the most disreputable people to enter this room, not by a long shot. They have clients with far darker reputations than ours to protect.”
“Have you been here before?”
“A few times.”
“Do you really have enough money to float us?”
I’m not stupid. Missions are expensive. And the Academy can’t pay that much. I barely make any money as an asset as it is.
Luke’s lips twitch. “I’ve done okay.”
“How?”
He leans forward, kissing my cheek. “Stop worrying. There’s no way the Academy knows we’re here. Even if they did know of my alias, which I promise you—this is my most closely held one—they don’t—this is a numbered account. There’s no way they’re going to trace me to this. I’m not stupid. I’ve always had my exit strategy planned.”
A discrete knock sounds on the door before it opens again. The same man who greeted us when we first arrived at the bank comes back into the room flanked by two guards, a large box, and black duffel in hand. He sets the box on the only table in the room.
“When you’re finished, just tell one of the guards outside.”
When he’s gone Luke pulls a key out of his pocket, flipping the lock open. He then enters another electronic code into a keypad on the box. He lifts the lid, opening it.
“Help me out here.”
I move forward, staring down at the box. It’s full of cash, passports, documents, and a few guns. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was prepared.
“What do you want to take?”
“All of it.”
We start emptying the box, throwing everything into the duffle.
“I have more stuff at my flat in London,” Luke adds.
It looks like he’s preparing for war.
He pulls a few guns and ammo out of the box, loading the guns, his motions quick and confident. He slips the weapons into his trousers, handing me a couple. “Take these.”
“I thought we were safe here.”
Luke tosses me a wry grin. “There’s safe and then there’s safe. We are sadly in the latter group.”
When the box is empty Luke zips the bag closed, lifting it onto his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”
I follow Luke into the elevator. My hand itches to pull the gun out.
“Relax,” Luke murmurs.
The doors slide open in front of us, and we step in, my gaze fixed on the numbers lighting up as we climb floors. Seconds later, we’re back on the main floor. No armed men point guns at us; no assets wait to take us out.
I follow Luke to the street where a car waits.
“Come on. He’ll take us back to the airport.”
We don’t speak the entire ride to the airport. I’m pretty sure we’re doing the same thing—trying to figure out a plan that won’t end up with us dead. From the beginning they teach us to plan our own missions, but we’re still given parameters to work within and assistance from other Academy assets—tech specialists and the like. Assassins are often the point men, but we don’t run the whole show. This is a challenge.
We make it to the airport with little time to spare before our next flight boards.
“Just how do you plan on getting us through security?” I ask Luke as we make it through the entra
nce, our tickets and bags in hand.
“Watch and learn.”
He walks toward the security line. He pauses before picking the busiest line of all. I frown at him.
“Watch.”
One by one, people go up to the guy checking passports. He waves them through into various security lines. For as nervous as I am, Luke seems remarkably calm. I want to ask him what his grand plan is, but I know the worst thing I can do is draw attention to us. And I can’t help but wonder if this is some kind of test—
It’s a game of chicken and him daring me to trust him, all rolled into one.
I hesitate before stepping up to the line just as Luke puts his arm around me, propelling me forward. He hands our falsified passports to the guy.
The officer flips through our passports, running them through a scanner. “Line six.” He points to the far line.
“Luke—”
“Don’t say a word,” he whispers, a broad smile on his face. Luke deposits the duffle bag on the X-ray belt, removing the rest of his stuff and passing it through the compartment. I do the same, my hands shaking slightly.
Luke grins. “Babe, I told you, it’s not going to be a bad flight.” He flashes a heartbreaking smile at the female security officer. “Nervous flyer.”
I’m not sure I look like much of a “babe” in my black trousers, black combat boots, and black leather jacket, but I get his point. I force my hands to stop shaking. A giggle escapes my lips.
“I know, honey. You know how scared I get.”
I can tell Luke wants to laugh for real. He steps toward me, pulling my body up against his. “You just need to trust me,” he whispers, loud enough for our audience to overhear. “I’ll always keep you safe.”
Somewhere in the background I can hear the female officer saying something about how sweet young love is, but it’s only a distant voice sounding in my brain. Because Luke starts kissing me—a full-on, toe-curling kiss. Some of the security guards start laughing; one even claps. Luke releases me with a wink and strolls through the X-ray machine. I hold my breath.
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