Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 169266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
“What would Global Dynamix want with a trafficking kingpin?”
“That’s what we need to find out.” Kat moves to stand beside me, looking at the tablet over my shoulder. “But this confirms what we suspected. Global Dynamix isn’t just a tech company playing superhero in this new age. The darkness they brought from the previous decades isn’t going away. It’s spreading.”
“The Prometheus files mentioned test subjects,” I say slowly, remembering the documents I’d glimpsed during my Queens infiltration. “Failure rates. Neural degradation. What if they’re not just enhancing volunteers? What if they’re…”
“Using trafficked people as guinea pigs?” Bayo finishes for me, his voice grim. “Why not? The Nazis experimented with mind control on their prisoners. The CIA tried with MKUltra. Let’s not forget Black Americans being used for everything from food testing to cancer cell research.” He pauses. “It would explain Kozlov’s involvement. He has access to people society has turned its back on. Refugees, migrants…”
My stomach turns. I think of Vanguard, of his genuine heroism and his desire to help people. Does he know what his employers are doing? Is he complicit? Or is he just another victim, a successful experiment in a program built on corpses?
“We need more,” I say. “We need proof.”
“Which is why you’re going to keep doing your job.” Kat’s hand lands on my shoulder, surprisingly gentle. “Keep getting info out of him. Get close—but not that close. You know about him, but see what he knows about the company’s operations. He’s been their golden boy for years; he has to know something.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then we find another way in.” Her grip tightens briefly before releasing. “But for now, Vanguard is our best access point. Don’t waste it.”
I nod slowly, my mind already spinning with possibilities. I know tomorrow, I’ll have to face him again, have to look into those blue eyes and pretend nothing happened, that I didn’t fall apart under his hands, that I’m not already counting the hours until I can touch him again.
Professional. Cold. Operative.
I can do this.
I have to do this.
“Get some sleep,” Kat says, heading for the door. “You’re going to need it.”
She leaves, and I’m alone with Bayo and the weight of my choices.
“Hey.” His voice is softer now, the teasing gone. “For what it’s worth? I don’t think you’re a bad person for wanting something good, even if the timing is shit. I mean, I’ve done some crazy things for the right pussy.”
“Bayo!” I exclaim.
He shrugs in response. “I’m just saying.”
A few beats of silence settle over us.
“But what if he’s a monster?” I say quietly. “Created by monsters. Part of something monstrous. What if he’s really playing me instead of the other way around?”
“Could be.” He shrugs. “Or maybe he’s just a man caught in something bigger than himself, same as you.” He stands, stretching. “Go back to your hotel and get some rest, Mia. And for the love of God, remember to turn off your earring next time.”
There won’t be a next time, is what I want to tell him.
But why lie?
CHAPTER 18
MIA
I wake to sunlight slicing through a gap in the hotel curtains, falling directly across my face like the universe’s alarm clock.
For a moment, I don’t move. I just lie there in the too-soft bed, staring at the ceiling, letting the events of last night wash over me in waves, in memories I never want to forget, that I probably never will forget, even if I tried.
Last night changed everything.
The rooftop. The kiss. The way he didn’t fucking die. The way he made me come apart with his hands and his mouth and those filthy words whispered against my skin.
Then, the debriefing at the safe house. Kat’s warnings. Poor Bayo, thinking he needs a lobotomy.
It won’t happen again.
I said it like I meant it but I never believed it.
What I felt on that rooftop wasn’t just physical release—it was something cracking open inside me, something warm and bright and brilliant, and you can’t just close that back up again. You can’t un-feel what it’s like to be touched by someone when you’ve been deprived of it for so fucking long.
The hotel room phone suddenly rings, and I jolt, leaning over to quell that garish noise again.
“Hello?” I mumble, hoping it’s Vanguard.
“Miss Baxter.” The voice is cool, precise, with that continental accent. “I hope I’m not calling too early.”
Julia Van Veen.
I sit up straighter, suddenly very awake. “Dr. Van Veen. Not at all, I—”
“I won’t keep you long.” She cuts through my fumbling with surgical efficiency. “I wanted to extend an invitation, a private tour of our facilities here at Global Dynamix. I thought it might be useful for your profile piece—give you some context on how we operate, what we’re working toward in the future.” She pauses. “Beyond the public-facing spectacle.”
My instincts prickle the back of my neck. Julia Van Veen doesn’t do anything without a reason, and this invitation makes me suspicious. It’s going to be highly sanitized, that’s for sure, but I’m not about to turn down the opportunity.