22. Lee
Lee
The screen flickers then steadies.
Her face fills it, and my heart warms. I miss her so much.
The zoom is too close at first, with just one eye and half her cheek. She mutters something under her breath and adjusts the camera.
“Okay. Hi.”
She looks so young.
“Day one of my assignment.” She grins and then catches herself, trying to be serious. “They’re letting me sit in on preliminary narcotics research tied to distribution networks.” Her voice lifts at the end of the sentence, like she’s proud she was brought in on such an important assignment.
I remember that week. She was buzzing around the house. I thought it was a boy. I didn’t even ask.
“I won’t be in any danger. That’s Lee’s thing. She’s the brave one. The scary one. The one who walks into a room, and everyone bows because she is so above them all. And she totally is.”
Her fingers twist in her sleeve. She believes everything she’s saying even if she’s nervous.
“I just want to help,” she continues. “Drugs ruin families and hollow people out.” Her voice steadies. “This project is about understanding new synthetic compounds before they hit the street. Early detection makes for early intervention.”
Synthetic compounds. I taste bile from the back of my throat.
“They said I have good instincts. But more than that, I blend in, so I’ll be able to hear things other agents won’t. My handler thinks I’m perfect for it.”
Her smile softens there. It isn’t forced. It's genuine.
She wasn’t chosen because she blended in. It was because she looked harmless and friendly. The kind of person strangers trusted without thinking twice. Emily never looked for the worst in people. She assumed everyone else saw the good she did.
“She doesn’t even know I agreed to this yet. I’ll tell her once it’s official-official.”
My hand tightens around the edge of the desk.
“You should have told me. You should have said something. I would have burned that building down before I let them near you,” I whisper to the screen.
The recording plays on, indifferent to promises I can never keep now.
“I got access credentials today. Restricted clearance. It felt… important.”
She was promised a way to make a difference. Of course she took it. They gave her an illusion and then exploited her.
“I’m not scared,” she adds quickly. Hope shines in her eyes, bright enough to make my heart ache.
The video cuts abruptly.
My own reflection stares back at me on the black screen. My face looks harder than I remember. It’s thinner and worn down.
“I should have known,” I say to myself. “She wanted to be like me. Was that what put her on this path? Did I not make her think she was enough just as she was?”
Neither of them says a word. Julian's hand settles on my thigh while Elliot finds my hand and gives it a quiet squeeze.
There are eight videos. I’m impatient to learn anything I can. I could ask Elliot to tell me, but I don’t want to make him be the one to say it. I need to hear it for myself.
I click on the next video.
Emily’s sitting somewhere dim this time. Colored light flickers against the wall behind her. Purple. Blue. Music thumps faintly through whatever door she’s closed.
She looks different than before, excited and confident.
“Okay,” she says quietly. “This one’s quick.”
She glances over her shoulder like someone might hear.
“My assignment has been adjusted. I’m going undercover.”
My stomach tightens. She looked like every other college student on campus. Nobody would've guessed she worked for the FBI.
“It’s not dangerous,” she adds too quickly. She gives a small, nervous laugh. “I’m someone who hangs out with the party crowd.”
Her eyes flick up to the camera. She forces a smile. “Wish me luck.”
The video switches off.
I play the next one. It’s only forty-five seconds. She’s in what looks like a car, but it’s not hers. Thick eyeliner points to a cat-eye shape, and her lips are hot pink.
“Me again. I’m going into the main dealer’s house. My handler said the key is to make sure they don’t suspect anything. Most of the time when deals are done, you’re expected to sample the product,” she continues. “If I hesitate, I look suspicious.”
She chews on her fingernail for a brief second. “I won’t. I’ll take what they offer. I can handle it. They’ll help me come down. Give me fluids.”
I want to reach through the screen and shake her.
“They trust me,” she says softly. “That’s why they picked me.”
No, it’s why they used you.
“This is how real agents start,” she adds. “Proving we can handle pressure.”
Music surges louder for a second. Someone laughs outside the door. Emily’s eyes flick toward the sound. “I’ll update after tonight.”
There’s a pause.
“If Lee ever saw this,” she mutters half to herself, “she’d kill them. She doesn’t need to know the details of this operation. She’ll see when I bring these guys down this was all worth it.”
The camera shifts as she reaches forward. The screen cuts. They didn’t just kill her. They used her for their gains first.
The next few videos blur together despite the different rooms they are recorded in. The light in her eyes fades a little more in each recording. I don’t think she understood everything they were doing.
Each one is filled with more excuses she invents for her handler. I’m glad the fucker is dead. I wish I could have been the one to take the credit. The asshole took the glory from me when he found out I was on his trail.
“Ettie, we can take a break.”
I shake my head. “I’m okay. I just need to finish.”
He mumbles something to Elliot, and I can’t hear it. I click on the last log. Half the screen pixelates before the image settles. The sound crackles like it’s underwater. For a second, I think it’s empty.
Then her face appears. It takes me a moment to recognize her. Her skin is thinner. Pupils are blown even in dim light. There’s glitter on her collarbone, and she’s in a tank top. The one she was wearing when she died.
She leans too close to the camera. “Okay,” she whispers. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be doing this anymore. They don’t want video records.”
The room behind her is unfamiliar.
“Things have changed,” she says slowly, like she’s choosing each word carefully.
My heart is in my throat.
“We were told we need to tolerate the drug to take down the main players at clubs and out in the field.”
Her hand shakes as she pushes hair off her face.
“Everything we take, and how we respond to different dosage intervals, it’s all recorded. That way when we go undercover, we can work with it in our systems. Build up a tolerance.”
She’s a test subject not an agent like they promised.
“It’s not true. We’re being tracked,” she continues. “Not the dealers. Not the buyers. Us. We were never here to go undercover. We’re here for data collection. They want to see how much they need to get us hooked, how we respond, and when we need more.”
My fingers dig into my thigh.
Her breathing picks up. “We’re told when and how much to take. They tell us to sell it, too, so they can follow the trail.” Her pupils are massive now, swallowing her irises whole. A tear slides down her cheek, and she doesn’t wipe it away.
“They say it’s to understand distribution patterns.
To get us over the addiction. But they are the reason I’m addicted.
” Her voice cracks on the last word. “I got into the lab computer. Orders are coming from the director himself. There are profit projections and plans to expand to other countries.”
They weren’t trying to understand dealer patterns or make arrests. They were manufacturing an epidemic.
“This was never to keep Vinculum off the streets,” she continues. “It’s all been to make it perfect for younger kids.” Her hands tremble more visibly now, but she continues. “I can’t stop taking it.”
That’s the first time she says it plainly.
“I tried to skip a dose, and my handler called within the hour.” An uneven laugh escapes her. “He said I was compromising the trial, and if I couldn’t do it anymore, it reflected on my family. It was a threat to hurt Lee’s career…”
Her head tilts slightly, like she’s trying to keep the room from spinning.
“They’re not taking down dealers.” Her eyes lock onto the camera. “They are the dealers.”
The camera shuffles like she is trying to hide it in her lap. During the shift, a man crosses the room behind her. Tall in a lab coat, red-blond hair that’s shaggy to his ears.
Julian stiffens beside me. “Wait. Go back.”
I freeze the video and drag the image back until the man’s face fills the screen.
Julian leans closer, all the color draining out of his face. “That’s him.”
I don’t have to ask who he means. I already know.
“The man from your apartment,” he says quietly.
My stomach knots so tight it hurts. “He was one of their chemists. I was trying to get him to give up the others. Anyone tied to what happened to Emily.”
Julian’s eyes lift from the screen to meet mine. The memory of that night moves across his face, shifting into something new.
“That’s why he was there?”
“He got loose before he gave me anything.”
Julian grabs my hand.
“Ettie, I’m so sorry I got in the way of information that could have helped. Please forgive me.”
My jaw drops, and I turn to him. Fuck, I love this man.
“Julian, I’m the one who fucked that whole thing up. I should have been honest. Thank you for continuing to love me.”
“There is nothing else I could possibly do besides love you, babydoll. We are inevitable.”
His eyes are glassy, and he leans over me and kisses me deep. With one last moan, he breaks our kiss and sits next to me again.
“That’s why you took him to the crematory. The fucker sold you out to Fuller, by the way. He’s on my list,” Elliot says, connecting the dots from all the files he’s read.
He’s right. I was a mess after that. I got sloppy, and I wanted the chemist buried. I don’t even know the funeral owner well, and I didn’t follow up because my breakup was too fresh.
“Damn him,” I curse.
The guys nod in agreement, and I press Play.
The video glitches again, distorting the last word so it almost doesn’t register.
But I hear it.
Her breathing turns ragged.
“If anything happens,” she says faintly, “it wasn’t an accident. Director Fuller is calling all the shots.”
A sound echoes somewhere off camera.
She flinches.
The feed cuts to black.
Julian’s hand tightens on my shoulder, but I barely feel it.