Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
Harry
Flashback
I press my palms against the sink, my knuckles white as I stare into my reflection. The porcelain groans beneath my grip, my jaw clenching so hard it aches.
Breathe.
It’s just her.
Although this is far deeper than watching her from the shadows. I never intended for her to know who I was, but now I’ve seen the potential of what we could be, I can’t comprehend the idea of anything else.
But what if she doesn’t remember last night?
What if it was merely a drunken mistake and she doesn’t remember a thing?
Dread sweeps over me at the thought, and I shake my head to push it away. If I dwell on the idea too much, I fear what will come of it.
Besides, she promised.
“I’d never forget you,” she said.
I push myself off the sink, and head to the front door, collecting my keys thrown on the side as I exit. The engine rumbles as I start my car, and a few seconds later, I’m driving to her house.
I planned to see her first thing this morning, unable to think about anything else, but Richard pulled me on a heist last-minute – a high-stakes assassination of an important politician with a hefty price tag.
No one says no to the Boss, but I would have been the first if I weren’t so certain I could sneak off this evening.
The other recruits are basking in the aftermath in Knightsbridge, drowning in expensive champagne, but I’m choosing to find my euphoria elsewhere.
With her.
My phone buzzes frantically, and I slip it out of my jeans pocket, switching it onto silent before pushing it back in. I pull the car round the end of the street, the familiar house only a few yards away.
I step out of the car, shutting the door behind me and using the fresh air to bring myself into focus.
I’m chewing the inside of my cheek as I walk closer, dreaming up the possible scenarios in my head. A beautiful nightmare.
Questions drill into me.
Am I too late?
Am I too early?
What if I missed the mark completely and dreamt this whole thing?
I’ve killed for her, appreciated her silence when she didn’t know I was watching, yet each pathetic question slams into me with each sudden thud against my ribs.
I lift my eyes from the dark stone pavement when I’m only a few steps away. As I approach the end of the driveway, I spot a silhouette just beyond the parked cars, leaning against the stone pillar as if they belong there.
At first, it’s just a tall shape in the dark, but as I step closer, the shadows slide off his face.
Stiff. Suited. Familiar.
Richard.
I stop dead.
His smile is calculated, standing outside the Thomas family home like he’s waiting for me. But I’m standing outside her house. Outside Jack’s home, a former recruit. He’s been gone for nearly five years now – there’s no reason for Richard to be here.
I feel the confusion written across my face. The air shifts, and Richard’s mouth twitches into something humorous yet terrifying.
“What are you doing here?”
He tilts his head. “I should be asking you that.”
Brows pulled in close, I turn my attention to her bedroom window, turning back to my boss just as fast. The need to keep her hidden remains strong, but I’m so deep in unknown territory I can’t do anything other than press my lips into a thin line.
Richard says nothing, just stares at me with that calculating expression he wears when someone’s made a mistake and doesn’t know it yet. But she’s not part of the Circle; the codex doesn’t apply to her. To us.
She’s nobody, in the grand scheme of things, but everything to me.
“I’m here to see—”
“I know.” He pauses momentarily, letting the silence sink in. “She doesn’t remember you, Harry.”
What?
The words don’t land all at once. They drop in pieces, like bricks on my chest. I blink, shake my head, run my hands through my hair wildly, trying to make the world fall back into place. The version of her that knows I exist.
“You’re lying,” I say, because I need him to be.
“I told myself it couldn’t be you,” Richard goes on. “Not the same Harry who works for me. Not the one I trained, promoted, vouched for, waltzing into my daughter’s room in the middle of the night while she was under the influence.”
“But she—” I stop myself short. “Daughter? No.” I start to shake my head madly. “No. No. No. What are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” Richard says flatly, as if it doesn’t carry any weight at all, “she’s my daughter.”
I stumble back a step.
I can feel something rising in me, hot and thick. I trip over my own feet, barely making it to the hedge before I double over and heave violently, my whole body seizing with the movement. The ground beneath my feet feels unsteady, and I drop to the dirt, forced to my knees.
“That’s it,” he croons. “Let it out.”
His voice only makes the vomit spiral up my throat faster. The bitter taste of truth burns. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand when I’m finally able to take a breath.
“No,” I whisper. “That’s not— She never—”
“You wouldn’t have known because she doesn’t,” he interrupts coldly. “She won’t know – not until I decide she will.”
“You’re wrong,” I rasp, but the words lack conviction.
“I wish I were,” Richard sighs. “She’s of no importance to me yet. Though now Jack’s gone …”
Jack too?
But I see it now. The similarities between them. How Richard took him under his wing. A clear stand-out favourite.
Oh, Christ.
I turn, the pain in my throat barely registering before I vomit again.
Laughter tumbles out of Richard. “You’re not meant for her.”
And someone else is?
Somehow, I manage to find the strength to rise back to my feet. He watches me with that shit-eating grin, enjoying every twisted moment of my agony.
Yet it quickly crashes as I demand, “You have to tell her the truth. You can’t let her live this lie.”
He laughs, short and clipped, the first sign I’ve ever seen from him that he’s lost that composed mask. He grips his jaw before quickly withdrawing his palm to point his finger at me.
“Don’t forget everything I’ve ever done for you—”
“I don’t give a fuck about that,” I spit. “If you don’t tell her, I will.”
“I’ll make you pay back every fucking penny.” Richard’s hand trembles between us, the anger rolling off him, making his body shake. “The house. Greg’s entire track record. Disposing of your father. You will forever be indebted to me.”
“Then so be it.”
“She doesn’t remember you! Do you really think she’ll believe the words of a nothing stranger?”
I wince painfully.
A stranger.
That’s all I am to her.
Laughter echoes in the silence again, drawing my attention back to Richard. He’s smirking, a sense of relief in the way he chuckles, as if his words were so profound they twisted my common sense.
Perhaps they did.
“I’ll let you think about it,” he muses, “and see whether witnessing the pain of her discovering the truth makes you feel better than maintaining the lie.”
My body remains still as Richard ducks his head with a nod goodbye. Resting his hands in his front pockets, he strides down the length of the driveway and onto the pavement. His steps are slow and casual until he’s barely a blip in the distance, the darkness surrounding him.
Slowly, I turn my head over my shoulder, finally laying eyes on the bedroom lit softly behind cream curtains.
Somewhere inside, she moves. Breathes. Lives.
Without me.
Maybe in our reality I’ll always be forced to love her from a distance. A reality where she’ll never be mine, only ever someone else’s.