I wake to the sound of approaching footsteps. I roll onto my back and stare up at McGregor’s ugly face.
“Rose,” he says.
He knows who I am.Good.My timing isn’t too off. Ignoring his extended hand, I stagger to my feet and brace myself against the wall outside his office. My head’s pounding, but it’s nothing compared to when I was carrying Parker.
Parker.
It feels like something’s pushing on my chest, crushing my heart and lungs from the inside out. I place my hand over the aching spot and clamp my eyes shut.
“Where’s Parker?” McGregor says.
My stomach clenches. “What’s the time?”
McGregor reads the time from his watch, and I adjust my own.
“When did you last see me?” I ask.
“Yesterday, when you disappeared from my office.” McGregor gestures to the book in my hand, his beady eyes wide. “Is that it?”
Yesterday.Parker’s right, my precision is improving.
“Where’s Parker?” McGregor repeats, and my body heats.
“Does it matter?” I snap. “Do you want your research or not?”
I hold his journal out to him, my fingers gripping the blood-stained leather. Am I making a mistake? I’m breaking the oath I swore to uphold at Neurovida, for a man I don’t trust. I pass the book over to him, but before I let go, my gaze locks with his.
“I want to help him, Rose,” he says. “I want to help both of you. And if I don’t hold up my end of the deal, neither will you.” His voice is hoarse. “There’s much at stake for me, too.”
“Good,” I say. “Because if you use this book to betray us, I’ll go back to the day we met, and I’ll kill you.”
25Matthews
I stride down a dim office corridor lined with doors. A halo of light frames the door at the end. They’re already inside, waiting for me. My hand hesitates over the handle. I take in a deep breath, compose myself, and enter the room. Besides the single desk and two chairs, it’s empty, as if it’s been set up for this one, brief meeting.
The hum of the air-conditioner fills the silence, blowing stale air thick with mildew into my face. I don’t recognize the bald man sitting behind the generic metal desk. They change seasonally. But they always hire different versions of the same suit—old, clueless men, forever in a hurry and wanting the job done yesterday.
“Sit,” he orders, gesturing to the metal chair in front of his desk.
I sit, placing a hand on either knee. I keep my body relaxed, ensuring I don’t fidget or adjust my position. The neutral expression I slipped on in the corridor remains in place, a familiar mask slowly melding to my face these past twelve months.
“I’m informed you had the opportunity to catch your targets, yet you were unsuccessful?” His mouth twitches, and he peers at me over the top of his glasses.
“The correspondence from your department wasn’t clear,” I reply, matching his stare with a trained intensity.
“Apparently not,” the man says. “Do you have anything further to report?”
“No. As I’ve mentioned to your colleagues, these meetings not only waste time, but compromise our position.”
“I will be the one to decide what is, and what is not, a waste of time. Have you forgotten what’s at stake?”
There’s something about this man, perhaps his quiet air of authority, his linguistic style, that screams power with minimal exertion, and has me leaning back in my chair. The metal chills my spine. “No,” I answer.
“I’m pulling you from this case. We need results, and you’ve failed to provide any. Your time will be better spent here.”
“What? No.” I jerk forward, my façade momentarily slipping before I school it back into place. I’ve spent twelve months eating, sleeping, and living this case. I’ve sacrificed everything in my life for it. They can’t let me go yet. A bead of sweat runs down my temple. “That would be a mistake. The targets are close. I just need more time.”
The man folds his hands together and rests them on the table with an air of boredom. “Your time is up.”
