44. Beck
BECK
SAXBY TWINS – WE LIT A MATCH
Three minutes into Debrief and I was already eager to cut it short. All I wanted to do today was collect my girl from her psych hold and spend the next several hours doing nothing but watching her, talking with her, holding her.
I was no better than an addict. I’d had one hit, one taste, of Adelaide Sinclair and I was hooked for life.
Which was a very dangerous position to be in for all involved.
“You have thirty seconds to explain to me why you didn’t lodge this report yourself,” Commander Varco growled, nostrils flaring, ready to sniff out a lie.
“Our asset was incapacitated during the mission. The mark wasn’t alone. His friends”—I barely restrained from spitting the venomous word—“took it upon themselves to subdue her.
Her kill method backfired, leaving her paralysed and on the threshold of cardiac arrest. If Rook Lockwood hadn’t performed CPR immediately, Blackwing would have lost another Swallow.”
Varco rocked back in his green leather desk chair. The muscles in his jaw ticked, and my usually easy impassivity was unusually hard to hold onto.
“That still doesn’t explain why you, Raven Beckett, her lead handler, failed to report to my office upon return to campus.”
“Our asset slid in and out of consciousness the entire night, and I didn’t want to report on her status before determining what, exactly, it was, Sir. By the time we knew she was stable, a report had already been filed by parties unknown, and we had received the debrief notification.”
Varco’s jaw shifted as he chewed on his ire. Or maybe his secrets.
Who the fuck had access to our field data, essentially in real time?
“Why didn’t you take her to the medlab?”
Fuck. We really should have, if only to cover our asses. But none of us were thinking straight after hearing the things they were doing to her… after seeing her in that state… after watching her die.
Because she did die. Her heart stopped right in front of me. And if Van hadn’t had the presence of mind—if his logic and reasoning went out the window like mine did—to restart it, then I may as well have cut my own out right then and there.
“There was no need to, Sir,” Van cut in.
“I’m medically trained, as you’re well aware.
” He gestured vaguely to Varco’s left shoulder where Van himself had patched up a bullet wound from a mission gone awry.
“I had all the necessary supplies in our apartment. Plus, the asset recently underwent surgery,” he said, pointedly emphasising the recently, casting no doubt as to his professional opinion on the swiftness of Addie’s entrance into the field.
“Studies have shown that when patients return to places they suffered significant trauma, there are equally significant adverse effects on their mental state.”
Varco’s eyes narrowed further.
“We wanted to prevent any additional psychological damage after her first Swallow mission didn’t go to plan.”
He didn’t believe Van for one second, but how could he refute him without hard evidence?
“What I’m hearing is that you collectively disregarded protocol in favour of vigilante bullshit,” Varco barked, the tether on his restraint effectively snapped. He picked up the phone on his desk from its cradle and dialled a single digit. “Mars. Get me Calper. Stat.”
He slammed it down and leaned back in his seat again, eyeing us like he wasn’t sure if he was about to lash out—or we were. Either way, we’d landed ourselves in hot shit already.
A few minutes later, three dainty raps on the door signalled the arrival of Dr. Scalper—the moniker earned from the way she routinely flayed minds open in her drive to find out what lay at their core. I hoped Addie had the fortitude to withstand her in session one.
“Get in here,” Varco ordered, and the pug-faced doctor entered the room.
She took two steps in and stopped with hands clasped neatly behind her back, causing the three of us to swivel around to look at her, or keep our eyes trained on the Commander.
Personally, I never liked having someone behind me—I didn’t trust anyone except my brothers. And maybe a certain tiny blonde.
I turned just enough to keep them both in my periphery, wondering what had prompted the Commander’s summons.
“Have you conducted your evaluation on the girl?” he demanded.
“I have, Sir.”
“And what conclusions have you drawn?”
Calper lifted her chin. “It’s too soon to say for certain. I’d like more time with her.”
“You’ll have it,” he grunted. “But in the meantime, what have you found?”
I felt her eyes pass over my face, then slide sideways to likewise encompass Dek and Van. “Subject is compliant.”
Subject.
Like they’re studying her.
“She answers mission-related questions directly, if not in great detail,” Calper continued in an ear-scratching monotone.
“She has shown excellent markers of ongoing obedience, particularly when presented with scenarios of a more personal nature. It is my belief that such reactions are the result of Recruit Deveaux’s elimination.
Subject is demonstrating early signs of attachment and dependence on her handlers”—Varco’s gaze snagged on my cheek—“but I have not yet determined the cause of such attachment.”
“Go find out, then. Dismissed,” Varco growled.
Calper left as quickly as she came, and the Commander watched us with steepled fingers for several minutes.
“What on earth did you three do to cause such unwavering loyalty in an asset you’ve only had under your command for less than an hour?” he asked in a sardonic, caustic manner.
None of us were stupid enough to answer.
“I have my theories, of course, but perhaps we should test just how far each of your loyalties are willing to extend. Perhaps—”
Mars crashed through the door, interrupting the Commander’s monologue. His face was pale, and his heart thudded so ferociously it was visible in the side of his neck. “Sir, we have a situation.”
“What is it?” Varco boomed at his second, who—to his credit—remained unbothered by his sharp tones, like a man who’d long since battened down the hatches to weather the storm.
Mars’ eyes flicked over to us and back. “I doubt their clearance level covers this,” he muttered, taking several more steps into the room to whisper something in the Commander’s ear.
A series of emotions crossed Varco’s face—shock, disbelief, concern—before it finally settled on cold, hard rage. “Show me,” he bade, voice dropping in barely contained lividity.
Mars hit a few different keys on the Commander’s keyboard, then stepped back, seeming to brace himself against the wall.
Varco watched something play out on his screen, unflinching until—
“NO!” he roared, leaping to his feet, drawing back as if to punch the monitor. Then, thinking better of it, he tapped a button and shoved it around to face us.
Blowing up the entirety of the screen was a black-and-white security camera feed, timestamped from just a few minutes ago.
Addie was seated behind Calper’s desk, with the most intensely beautiful expression on her bruising face. That expression quickly morphed into shock, then horror, then devastation, and I had to fight the urge to leap through the screen and find out what was wrong with our girl.
Seconds later, Calper entered the field of vision from where her doorway would be off-screen, stopping dead upon entry. She reacted quickly, pulling something from her pocket and converging on Addie with a third, unknown person visible only by the back of their head.
Whoever it was—male, thick-built, short-haired—was pointing a gun right at my Ice Queen.
Just as the doctor reached her, she shot to her feet and slashed horizontally, slitting Calper’s throat with nothing but a cold, dead blankness on her face.
I mimicked her actions, leaping to my feet like I’d—I don’t know—help her? Stop her?
My lungs stalled watching her use Calper as a shield. I didn’t dare breathe as she progressed across the room to the unknown man until he ran out of bullets. When she dropped the doctor and flicked a very familiar knife through the air, my heartbeat faltered as well.
Her aim was perfect.
Only when he dropped and his face lay staring blankly at the camera did I realise who she’d taken out.
Addie had murdered the Commander’s son, Sebastos Varco.
Holy shit.
She paused only long enough to retrieve her weapon, and my heart panged watching her do so, then fled the scene.
Holy fucking shit.
What have you done, Adelaide? What have you done?
I risked a glance at my brothers, both of them equally shellshocked. Dek’s leg shook beneath the desk like he was fighting himself hard not to bolt out of here and go find her. I knew how he felt.
Varco’s face was purple. He stood behind his desk, shaking with rage, managing only short, sharp sentences that effectively sealed our doom.
“Find her. Bring her in. Dead or alive—”
“Sir—” Dek tried. But Varco was past the point of reason.
His son was dead.
And Addie would pay—likely with her life.
“Deadflight Protocol activated.” Varco barely moved, but Mars seemed to understand he was now being spoken to. “Send out the alert, Mars. Now.”
“Yes, Sir,” he grunted, then raced out the door.
“She’s going to die for this. One way or another. If you ever want to see your little bird alive again—if you want the chance to say goodbye—then you’d better hope you find her first.”
Not waiting another heartbeat, I raced out the door, praying I wasn’t too late. I didn’t check to see if the others were following—I knew they would be—nor did I need to check my phone when it alerted, knowing already what it’d say.
We forwent the elevator in favour of the stairwell and three sets of boots pounded up the four flights to our level. I crashed through the hall, halting right outside our apartment door.
Addie left it ajar. Cracked open neatly with the spare key still in situ, like she knew she didn’t even have the time to pull it out or close the door.
With my heart in my throat, I gently pushed it open, dreading I’d find her… dreading I was already too late.
But our home was tidy—seemingly untouched.
We fanned out in silence, each of us rushing to our respective bedrooms in the hopes that she’d be there waiting for us.
But she wasn’t.
Adelaide Sinclair was gone.
She was a ghost. There and gone—vanished like a flicker. Leaving only her memory to haunt us.
“Addie,” I whispered, brushing my hand over the pillow we’d shared only hours ago.
Dek rushed in with fear in his eyes. “My gear’s gone.”
His panic only fuelled my own. “What do you mean? What gear?” I quietly demanded, hoping she’d managed to grab something that could save her.
“My jacket, my helmet, my rifle,” he answered, breathless, and my gut twisted in foolish hope.
“Where would she go?” I asked. “Van! Where would she go?!”
Van raced to the doorway, his hands shaking hard. “I have one idea. Just one.”
“Grab your shit and let’s go,” I barked. “We have minutes to get ahead of everyone notified of Deadflight.”
Van grabbed my arm, stopping me. “That’s everyone, Beck. Deadflight notifies everyone on active duty.”
With a heart that wouldn’t beat again if hers stopped, I whispered, “I know.”
Addie… don’t you dare fucking die on me—not now.
I only just found you. We only just found you.
I’ll be your beast if that’s what you need.
I’ll be the devil in the darkness to protect you.
I’ll be whatever monster you need me to be.
Just stay alive.
We’re coming.
We’re coming.