“Was that there before?” Rose whispers, her voice unusually high.
“No. They must’ve brought in tighter security measures since we left,” I say.
“There’s no way we’re getting in. Let’s go,” she says, grabbing my arm.
“Wait.” I examine the keypad. “I’ll get us in.”
Rose’s head whips back and forth, surveying the empty corridor. “Parker, if you get this wrong, there might be an alarm. Wecan’tbe found here. Let’s go back and work on honing my skills. I’ll travel us directly into the room.”
“We’re here now,” I say, eyes glued to the keypad. “I need to try.”
Footsteps echo along a connecting hallway and I hold my breath, a bead of sweat dripping down my temple.Calm down, it’s only a cleaner.Or do they already know we’re here?
“Parker,” Rose begs.
“Get ready to travel.” I take a deep breath and enter five digits into the keypad, each responding with a small beep.
Rose’s fingers dig into my shoulder, tiny prickling sparks emanating from her contact point. The footsteps grow louder and her hand trembles. Another thirty seconds and we’ll be discovered. I enter the last digit, earning two short beeps. The light above the keypad flashes red and my heart palpitates.
Fuck.Maybe I don’t know McGregor as well as I thought.
“Parker, please,” Rose repeats, voice trembling.
“Wait,” I mutter. Electricity races into my body, collecting in my chest; Rose readying to travel at a second’s notice. The footsteps draw closer.
“If we get caught, I’ll kill you myself, Parker,” she growls.
I roll my shoulders, take another deep breath and press my finger to the panel. The steps are louder now, and close. Too close. We have ten seconds at best. I enter the fifth digit and my finger blurs, like thousands of tiny pixels jumping from my skin—the effects of Rose exerting her power to travel us to safety.
“Hold it, Rose,” I order. Not daring to blink, I enter the last digit, earning a longer beep from the keypad, a green flashing light and a small click. I rip open the door, haul Rose inside and shut the door behind us. Breathing heavily, we wait behind the door until the steps recede.
“Told you I’d get us in,” I say with a smug grin and turn toward the room, drawing in a breath of leather, coffee and old books. A wave of nostalgia warms my chest. McGregor’s pushed his computer to the edge of the desk to make room for the stacks of papers scrawled with his looping handwriting. His cardigan’s draped over the back of his chair, probably left behind in his preoccupation with another impossible theory. A photo of the son he lost still sits on the shelf beside his desk, between volumes of encyclopedias and scientific journals. It’s as if no time’s passed at all.
I cross the room and run my hand along the dark timber desk. “What date is it?” I ask Rose, still standing by the door.
“I don’t know, my watch doesn’t Wi-Fi update like the—” Rose’s jaw drops, her focus on the tall figure materializing in the space between us.
The one man in the world I hate. The man who took everything from me.
“Matthews,” I say, the word tasting like ash on my tongue. He takes a step forward on mismatched feet. “Nice choice of footwear. Still having trouble, are we?”
A muscle tenses in his jaw. “Not as much trouble as you.”
A growl leaves my throat, my sight condensing to tunnel vision, lined in red, Matthews at the center. I don’t know why he’s holding his hands up in front of his chest. And I don’t care. He’s a dead man. Suddenly, escaping here with McGregor’s journal isn’t as important as wrapping my hands around Matthews’ neck. I want to hurt him like he’s hurt me. I want tokillhim.
Matthews takes another step toward me, his deep voice filling the room. “Parker, listen to me.”
Not a chance.I swing at him but he vanishes, reappearing just out of arm’s reach.
“Parker—” he says, but his words are clipped short as I lunge again.
I’m left holding nothing but air as Matthews materializes behind McGregor’s desk.Fuck, how’s he doing that?
Matthews’ dark brows draw together. “I’ve been trying to find you two for—”
“Why did you do it?” Rose asks, her voice filled with thick, rare emotion. “I trusted you.” Her hands curl into fists. “Shetrusted you.” Her voice cracks and the sound claws at my insides. “And you sold us out.Why?”
Matthews turns toward her, and I have my chance. I grab a glass paperweight off the desk and hurl it at him. It strikes his cheek with a satisfying crack and he crumples to the floor, hand pressed to his eye. Blood spurts between his fingers.
