“You should get some sleep, Bex. We’ll probably need to change your bandages and—”
“I’m not talking about my bloody bandages,” she said, then grinned. “No pun intended.”
“Look, Bex…” I started. Suddenly, I felt so tired, so worn.
“No, you look. This isn’t the end,” she told me. “You think I got shot…for this?” Bex snapped. “I’m a spy, Cam. I was born to do this—to be this. It’s in my blood. And I will do it until the day I die. It’s who I am,” my best friend said, then leveled a glare at me. “The thing I don’t think you realize is…it’s who you are too.”
“I know.”
“No.” Bex shook her head. “You don’t. If you did, you never would have spent half of our sophomore year dating Josh. You wouldn’t be freaked out at the thought of graduation. You would know what life after spy school means. It means this, Cam. This. And you are better at it than anyone that I have ever known. Now, get up. And tell us what comes next.”
But I didn’t move.
“Okay. Let’s have it.” She held out her hand, waggled her fingers.
“What?”
“You know what,” my best friend told me. “Hand it over.”
I didn’t ask again. I just reached into my pocket and pulled out the list I’d been carrying around for weeks.
“There.” Bex pointed at the paper. “William Smith. Gideon Maxwell. Two names, Cam. There are only two names left!”
“I know, but…”
“But what?” Bex demanded.
“But the king is dead, Bex.” I felt silly pointing it out, almost disrespectful saying the words aloud. “We didn’t stop the assassination. We couldn’t—”
But Bex didn’t wait for me to finish. She spun and yelled across the room.
“Liz, has it started yet?” Bex asked. “Have the Iranians invaded Caspia?”
Liz sat at her computers. She didn’t say a word; she just shook her head. No.
“Then there’s time to bloody well stop it!”
I knew she was right. Of course she was. Bex was always right. She knew me better than I knew myself. But then again, isn’t that a best friend’s job?
“So tell me what comes next,” Bex demanded.
I looked up at her for a long time, thinking, praying. My voice was scratchy and distant. It wasn’t like my own when I stood and started to speak.
“Liz, when we get a secure line let me know. I’ve got to try to contact Mom and Abby.” Macey and Preston came in from the kitchen, and I looked around the group. “As for the rest of us, we’re going to try to get some sleep. Regroup. And first thing tomorrow morning, we’re going to figure out what happens next.”
I meant it in that moment. I really did. I thought we would sleep for a few hours and wake up to a new day filled with new possibilities. I thought the morning would bring change. But I should have known that it doesn’t take that long for change to happen—it takes a second. A moment. In a single breath, reality as you know it can simply fall away.
When I heard a sound on the porch I thought it was the wind rattling the shutters. It felt like the world and its troubles were blowing straight to our door, so I looked at my friends in turn and said, “Okay, everybody, get some sleep, and tomorrow we’ll figure out how to stop the Circle.”
“Oh.” A laugh filled the room. “Maybe I can help with that.”
I spun to look at the woman who stood silhouetted in the door. Wind gusted around her, and bits of hair blew across her face, framing her dark eyes as she looked at Zach and said, “Hello, sweetheart. Sorry to disturb you, but I believe you have a walk-in.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Maybe you’ve never heard the term “walk-in.” If you’re reading this, though, you probably have. You probably know that it’s the term spy agencies use for when rival operatives come in out of the cold. It’s a phrase that brings to mind hope and fear in equal measures. This could be big, you think. This could be nothing, you know. But whatever the case, it is never, ever something that you ignore or disregard.
And that’s why we all sat staring at the door, every one of us gaping at the woman who stood there.