Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Daniel drags a chair beside my bed, his sharp gaze cutting toward Jay. Even I flinch.
Daniel can be intimidating when he wants to be.
Jay dips his chin, his throat bobbing as he grabs his tablet and makes his way to the door. He shoots me a quick look as he scans his keycard. His glance lingers a second too long. It’s almost weary.
I take notice of the color of his keycard. Red. He has the highest clearance.
“I’ll be back in an hour to check on you,” he says.
The door shuts behind him with a quiet click. Daniel smacks his tongue against the roof of his mouth—a sharp, irritated sound. He’s deciding how this goes.
I slip the heart rate monitor off my finger. If I’m going to lie, I need every advantage I can get.
Daniel notices. I knew he would, but he says nothing. I’d do this even if I weren’t compromised.
He leans back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. The action makes his biceps bulge, his muscles constricted by the tight bands of his sleeves. He should size up, but I suspect he actively enjoys wearing his shirts this way. I bet they make him feel strong.
“I’m happy to see you,” I say, breaking the silence. “I was beginning to fear I’d die in the shifter lands.”
Daniel quirks a brow. “Why is that?”
Daniel has taught me everything I know about deception. Convincing him that I’m still a part of HPAW won’t be easy. He’s perceptive, and he knows me well. Maybe even better than Caleb does.
“Alpha Knox grew suspicious of me,” I admit.
“I managed to slit his throat and reach our meeting point, but he caught me.” The memory flashes.
The cool bite of the blade in my palm and the way it cut through Caleb’s skin.
His hand curling around my wrist, stopping me.
I shove the memory aside. “The shifters have since been keeping a close eye on me. I didn’t think I’d get another opportunity to escape. ”
It’s not a complete lie. That’s the trick with Daniel—truth wrapped around the lie until he can’t pull it apart. Besides, I’m sure he already knows this information. Caleb murdered every soldier at that meeting point.
HPAW knows I attempted to reach it, and they know I failed.
Daniel remains quiet. He’s hoping the silence makes me uncomfortable. It does, but I’m not going to continue speaking. I’ve said my part.
Now, I wait.
A long minute passes. Long enough for doubt to creep in.
I tap my finger against the bed. Patience isn’t my strong suit, but it’s going to be today. What happened to Caleb? Where is Adam? How did HPAW know about the alphas’ meeting?
Somewhere in all of this, someone is feeding HPAW answers.
I have so many questions.
The old Evelyn would’ve been curious, but she wouldn’t have pushed for answers. She believed that HPAW had her best interests at heart. They’d tell her exactly what she needed to know, nothing more and nothing less.
I can’t believe I was once content with that. It was a miserable fucking existence, and I was too brainwashed to realize I deserve so much more.
Daniel’s gaze lingers on the bandage wrapped around my head.
“How are you feeling?” he eventually asks.
I shrug. “Like shit.”
Daniel snorts, then almost immediately grows serious. “There’s been some speculation regarding your relationship with Alpha Knox.”
I shut my eyes, too exhausted to keep them open, and breathe in slowly through my nose. Anxiety tugs at the edges of my mind, encouraging me to panic, but I focus on the sound of the air conditioning blowing through the vents and the rhythmic tapping of my finger against the bed to keep calm.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
I crack open an eye, peering at Daniel. I’m trying to look curious, not defensive. Daniel needs to think I’ve been following HPAW’s orders. I have no reason to panic.
The corners of Daniel’s lips twitch upward, and his gaze falls to my marked hand. I’m glad I took that heart rate monitor off. There’d be no way of hiding my body’s reaction to the direction of this conversation.
“You’ve healed your bond,” Daniel notes.
The words are a blow to the back of the head.
Well, fuck.
My marking was a deep red when I left the HPAW facility, but I didn’t know what the coloring meant until recently. HPAW didn’t, either. When I learn who is sharing information with HPAW, I’m going to kill them.
Unlike with Caleb, I’ll succeed.
I spare my marking a glance. It almost feels like it’s watching me back. The delicate florals are beautiful, traveling up my middle two fingers before spreading across the back of my right hand. It’s hard to believe I once hated it.
“Leadership has agreed to give you the day to recover,” Daniel says.
“But they intend to speak with you tomorrow morning. Access to this room is limited to your medical team and me.” He clears his throat.
“I’ll be present for the meeting, but I won’t speak on your behalf.
Your fate is up to leadership, and I won’t put my reputation on the line for you. ”
I work my jaw back and forth, choosing not to respond. Daniel’s looking for me to speak out of anger, maybe even fear. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
I flip my hand, hiding my marking from view.
Daniel shakes his head, standing. I watch him leave, refusing to let him out of my sight until the door shuts firmly behind him. Only once I’m sure he’s gone do I flip my hand back over, exposing my mark.
This damned thing is going to be the reason for my death. I can try lying to leadership, but this marking is proof of my betrayal. They know it blackened, and they know I healed it. There’s no getting around that truth.
I glance at the empty seat where Daniel sat, trying to figure out my next move, when a flash of metal at the foot of my bed captures my attention. The light bounces off a set of keys, but it’s the switchblade and phone sitting beside it that steal my breath.
Daniel must have set them down when he sat. He forgot them.
No, he didn’t.
Daniel doesn’t forget things. Not like this. I may tease him about his age, but he’s as sharp as a tack. His phone is password-protected, and I have no use for his car keys.
It’s the switchblade.
I draw in a shaky breath, realization settling. I know what I need to do. I just don’t want to do it.
My heart pounds, galloping painfully against my ribcage, as I eye the small weapon. It’s slim and black, and my hand trembles as I reach for it.
I have to do this.
I wipe at my cheeks, brushing aside my hair with the back of my unmarked hand, before flicking open the blade. It’s sharp, and a small bead of blood pools on the surface of my skin as I press the pad of my thumb against the point.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Slice.
The blade bites deeper than I expect.
It takes a moment for the pain to come. It flares up the nerves in my hand and races up my arm. My fingers curl, the tendons jumping as I force the blade through my flesh.
My marking distorts as I cut it, the beautiful design splitting and warping with each pass of the blade. I hate every second of it.
Blood seeps down my knuckles, warm and sticky. When my marking finally gives, it comes away unrecognizable. The wound is gruesome.
I drop the switchblade onto my lap as blood soaks into the sheets beneath me.
I just cut off my marking.
It needed to be done. HPAW is already aware that I managed to reverse the darkening, which will be hard enough to find an excuse for on its own, but I can’t risk the color changing any further. It would be a dead giveaway.
The lock on the door disengages, and Jay comes rushing inside with a woman at his heels. I don’t see the cameras, but I’m sure they’re here. There’s no other reason the medical staff would’ve known to come running.
Jay hurries to my bedside, and a shorter woman with bright-blue hair taps furiously at her tablet. She tucks her hair behind her ear, her narrowed eyes darting rapidly between me and the screen.
I’m too focused on the dark-red marking on the back of her hand to worry about the alert she’s surely sending out. Her long sleeve covers most of the design, but I know a marking when I see one.
And I know exactly what it means.
She’s a mate. One who has been brainwashed into believing the shifters are the enemy.
Jay snatches the switchblade off my lap.
“What the hell did you do?” His voice cracks, full of alarm.
He’s not actually looking for an answer. I give one, anyway.
“I completed my mission,” I say. Each word is deliberate. “And I didn’t want this disgusting marking on me for a second longer.”
Jay shakes his head, and the woman pulls gauze from a cupboard along the far wall. She seems annoyed as she rips it open and applies it to my hand, trying to stop the bleeding. I don’t entirely blame her.
I’d be annoyed, too, if I were in her position.
She and Jay were likely put under strict orders to keep me alive and uninjured. Me cutting off my mark is sure to piss off some people—especially leadership.
Why did Daniel tip me off? He doesn’t make mistakes, nor does he take risks. Especially not for me. He detests the shifters, and he’s been a loyal HPAW member for over thirty years.
Maybe this was a test.
Too late to worry about it now. My marking is gone.
Jay and the blue-haired woman fret over my hand. They clean and bandage it within minutes.
“I can’t believe Daniel left his things here,” Jay huffs, stuffing the switchblade, phone, and keys into his pockets.
He’s storming out the door a second later, leaving me alone with the woman. She’s finishing wrapping my hand, and when she applies pressure, I wince.
“We were under strict orders to leave your mark intact,” she says, her voice low. “Your impatience could cost me my job.”
I don’t feel the least bit guilty. HPAW is a prestigious organization. She won’t have trouble finding another job. Besides, if anybody is going to get in trouble, it will be Daniel.
Maybe he intended me to use the switchblade for a different purpose, like to hide for future use, but that wouldn’t work. There are metal detectors in every wing, and I’m being watched.
It was definitely for my mark.
I’m not sure what to think about that.