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My life has changed, but Broderick has been stopped.
I hustle down the stairs toward the front door of Devan’s apartment building with my phone clenched so tightly in my hands that my fingers are numb.
“Fuck.” I blow out a breath, shoving suddenly heavy hair out of my face.
This is a disaster. From nearly one to a full-blown one in less than ten seconds. A new world record, if I have to guess. And Devan is right. It’s suicide to do whatever it is the mysterious hacker wants me to do.
I’ve got no choice.
If they release my files, then we’re fucked, and all the hard work of the past few days will be for nothing. I knew I should have gone back to the mill to make damn sure Broderick was cooling, to stand over him until I saw rigor mortis set in and watch the breakdown of his body as he rotted.
I’d been content to accept his death and work on unraveling his system from the hospital room and my phone.
Especially when Naomi’s people recovered the body, and Jasleen began the arduous process of autopsy.
This is an imposter.
Isn’t it?
I jolt into motion, hurrying down the sidewalk, hardly seeing anyone in my way. The buildings here block out most of the natural light, but there, above the crest of one of the apartment spires nearby, I catch a glimpse of the silvery moon in the rapidly darkening sky.
My heart constricts in my chest to the point where I’m light-headed, short of breath, but I still put one foot in front of the other.
What’s the plan?
What’s the real plan?
No matter how hard I push my brain for a solution and several backup options, I’m coming up blank. My phone rings with an alert, and the message on the chat screen is horrible enough to stop my heart entirely.
You’ve got twenty minutes, or our snipers will kill Detective Bishop in his bed. Come alone, Darkling.
A sob breaks free, and I curl in on myself. Worry for Devan drags behind me like an anchor.
If I flake out and he dies, I’ll never be able to forgive myself.
Boyfriend. Have I ever really had a boyfriend? Like, ever in my life? Nothing official for sure. The thought has me giggling. What is it going to be like calling Devan mine? Will we go out on an actual date?
Or do those kinds of cheesy things couples do when they’re really in love?
It seems unnatural to be happy right now, and yet a sliver of something I’ve never really felt before starts to grow inside of me.
The cell buzzes along with the tinkling song of an incoming call, and I jump, screaming out loud to the point where several people on the sidewalk stop and turn in my direction. It takes me way too long to actually answer the call.
I fumble, recognizing the caller and jabbing my finger to the screen to answer.
“Blake.” His name comes out in a rush.
“Aria, it’s a fucking mess here. A real goddamn mess,” he hurries to say. “There’s someone here who says he’s Broderick Stevens, but it’s not my uncle, and he’s making threats. I need you.”
It’s pointless to pretend I have no idea what’s going on. Pointless when the strain in his tone tells me Blake already knows shit has gone down, and he’s calling about the imposter. “I barely got out, Blake. Now they’re trying to reel me back in, and I’m scared.”
It’s the truth.
“You’re the only one who can help me. Please. I need someone because I’m losing it, and I can’t keep myself together to do what I need to do.” He sounds like he’s lost the picture, his voice cracking.
“I don’t know what to do.” Except keep walking. I keep walking in the direction of the subway that will take me to my stop.
“Just get here, and I’ll protect you. I’ll figure it out. I’ll…ha. I’ll tell you my favorite donut flavor if you help me out. Please, anything.”
