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~Lily~
Today is the one-year anniversary of our deaths. Dresden and I take the day off to wallow in self-pity and get drunk. My thoughts are only of Blake— a constant, miserable need to know what he’s doing, how he’s held up without me. For the first few months of this assignment, Hyde gave us weekly updates. But that quickly dwindled to monthly. It’s been five months since the last one.
My nightmares are filled with his face and the horror of him forgetting about me.
Dresden has dreams about Shannon, too. He broke down this morning and punched a hole in the wall. We’ve physically transformed ourselves over the last year, but nothing has lessened the pain we both carry.
“How much longer are we going to do this shit,” he grumbles, taking a swig from a Tequila bottle.
“Who knows?” I sigh. “Hyde told us this could take a while.”
“Fuck Hyde. Fuck Interpol. It’s been a year, Lily. I want my life back.” He gives me a steel
y glare.
“Me too, man,” I say in a low voice, taking a swig from my bottle, reaching over to lay my hand on his.
“I doubt they’ll even recognize us by the time we get there.” He sighs, meeting my gaze.
I stare at him a moment, still thrown by how he looks these days. We both wear wigs every day, but only because he shaved his head before we left. I refused to cut my hair or dye it. The fake hair transforms us both into blondes, but we’ve done our own permanent markings, too.
Eight months ago, I covered my Taurus brand with an elaborate tattoo of Sorina’s name. It runs from my collarbone to the top of my shoulder. Most of the scars across my shoulders are covered by a tattoo of the Romanian flag, and my left side, just below my armpit to my hip, is covered by a vertical tattoo of Blake’s name.
Dresden’s chest is covered, shoulder-to-shoulder, with Shannon’s name and roses in a variety of colors. I glance over, smiling at the memory of our night at the tattoo parlor.
“What’re you smiling at?” he says, raising his eyebrows.
“You think they’ll dig the tattoos?”
He chuckles. “Who knows? No taking ‘em off now.”
I laugh, sitting back in my chair. With my eyes closed, I try to remember the way Blake smells, the way his hands feel against my skin. My cell phone rings and vibrates against my hip.
“Hello,” I say, balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder.
“Viper, it’s Monroe,” says a strained voice.
“Hey, boss. What’s up?”
“Where’s Python?”
“Uh, sitting next to me, why?”
“Put me on speaker,” he says, sighing into the phone.
I hold the phone between us, pressing the speaker button.
“Sup, asshole,” Dresden says. “When the fuck can we come home?”
“Today. Your plane leaves in an hour.”
“What?” I sit up straight.
“Agent Johanson fucked up,” he says, huffing.
“What do you mean ‘fucked up’?” Dresden says, sitting up as well.
“She went over my head and got the okay to bring Mason back to visit your graves. They were ambushed. Shannon is okay, but . . .”
My blood runs cold. “But what, Monroe?”
“Blake was shot.”
“What,” I yell into the phone, shooting out of my chair.
“Calm down, Lily. I’ll text you the hospital information. We’ll talk when you get here.”
