Chapter Twenty-Two

Julian left us alone. When we left the church, darkness had fallen. All of the sunshine and warmth of earlier was replaced by a chill in the air. It was fitting. I strolled beside Marcus through the square, down a street full of café goers lazily enjoying dinner and tourists chomping Bavarian pretzels, until our street dead-ended at what looked like a mini Arc De Triomphe. We climbed the steps absentmindedly, not even speaking or having a destination in mind. I was surprised to find it led to an elevated walkway that bordered the river.

The path was wide and cobblestoned, offering unobstructed views of the ferries gliding across the water, their amber lights reflecting off the surface, reminding me of Venice. We always seemed to face tragedy in the most beautiful locations, though I doubted Marcus could see much through the tears sliding down his blotched cheeks.

“This is awful. I am so sorry,” I said again.

He was aching so much, I felt like I was going to vomit from his pain. Or maybe I felt sick at the knowledge that my parents’ homicidal rampage was what forced the Reys into a corner so confined they gave themselves up to the authorities. My parents were officially going to go down for two murders. If I found them now, I could be responsible for the lethal injections in their arms. We had built our entire plan, all of our hopes, on finding our parents, and we succeeded. But now Marcus’s parents were the only ones in prison. That didn’t feel like a win.

Marcus wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his leather jacket, sniffling. “Where do you think they’re taking them?”

“I don’t know, but Julian’s speaking with the agents. He’ll find out. We’ll figure out a way to help.”

“No, you won’t. You hate my parents. And my brother. I saw you and Julian—you were planning to call the CIA yourselves,” Marcus spat, which was true, but it was a plan we all agreed on. Including Marcus. He knew that. “Funny, you didn’t call the CIA when you were with Urban in Poland or with your parents in Rio. Why does it have to be my parents? They didn’t do anything. Not like yours.” His voice sent a shudder down my spine. I’d never heard him sound so hateful and definitely not toward me.

I bit my chapped lip as we walked under a canopy of bare trees, their dark twisted branches oddly manicured into the shape of squares as they joined together above us. They looked like the type of trees that belonged in a Tim Burton movie. Now we were walking right under that nightmare—or maybe we were walking through it.

He was right about me not calling the cops on my parents. I was too stunned by the sight of Urban, and my mom and dad, that my first instinct was to listen, not to turn them in. It was why we brought Julian on this trip, so we’d have an objective third party capable of making the tough call to the CIA if our brains were too overwhelmed to do it. But that was only half the reason. Seeing my parents, all of my parents, affected me. When I hugged them, listened to them, it was what Marcus felt speaking with his parents just now; but I couldn’t tell him that, especially not about Urban.

“Seeing them is hard. It’s why we brought Julian,” I reiterated.

“Try seeing them in handcuffs.”

I winced. He needed to let his pain out. Maybe if he realized he wasn’t alone? I was hurting, too—for him, for myself, for Keira. “I know this is horrible. I probably won’t see my parents again, either. After what your mom and dad said, I don’t think we can look for them …”

Marcus’s head swung my way, his eyes flaming.

“¿Que?” he asked, like what I said was unintelligible.

“My mom and dad are wanted for two murders—Allen Cross and his wife. If we find them now, they’ll be sent to death row.”

“It’s what they deserve! They kill people. They started Department D!” He threw his words at me like knives, not caring how deep they cut. “You heard what my parents said, they had no idea what they were getting into. Neither did Antonio. Your parents tricked them. They deserve to be caught.”

“Your parents were adults who made their own choices,” I pointed out.

“Your parents forced people to turn their children into criminals! They would’ve done it to you, too. You realize that, no? They were grooming you, not Keira. With your black belt and your languages. How does that not make you sick?”

I swallowed hard. I’d considered this. My sister was a cheerleader while I was learning martial arts. When I was younger, I thought it was because I was a tomboy, but now I knew it was quite possible they were planning to do to me what Marcus’s parents did to Antonio. My stomach rolled. What if they hadn’t “died?” Would they have turned me into a criminal spy? Would they have turned Keira? My face grew hot as sweat broke on my neck.

“Marcus, if my parents are caught now, they’ll be killed,” I pointed out, my voice cracking.

“Your parents committed crimes that are coming back to hurt them. That’s justice. Isn’t that what you said you wanted?”

“Is that what you want for me? My parents dead?” I stopped in my tracks, boots skidding on the wet concrete as a low fountain shot into the air like a tiny geyser. A cool mist sprayed my face, adding to the flush in my cheeks.

“I don’t want any of this,” he moaned.

Neither did I.

He glared at the river, intently eyeing a ferry.

This is the worst day of his life, I reminded myself. This is a pain that’s too much to bear. “Marcus, how can I make this better for you?”

“You can’t!” he snapped, spinning my way. “If your sister never ran that DNA test—”

“Oh my God, you’re going there right now?” I leaned toward him. “You really think this is my fault, Keira’s fault. You think we dragged you into this. Well, I have news for you, Marcus. Your parents were working for Department D long before my sister ran a blood test.”

Marcus knew when we woke up this morning that we were going to call the CIA after we spoke to his parents, he agreed to that. And I could understand that facing that reality was different than considering it as a hypothetical, but the way I saw it, his parents did us a favor, did him a favor. They turned themselves in. They took the burden of calling the cops away from their son and did the honorable thing. They showed more love for him in that church than I ever experienced in my life. So yes, he was hurting. He just lost his family. But I never had one to begin with—aside from Keira. And he had the nerve to blame her? She was currently suffering from PTSD because of what our parents did to her, all of our parents, including his, including his brother. Marcus didn’t get to act like he was the only victim here. We were all victims of this.

“If your sister left things alone, none of this would be happening.”

“If your parents said no when they were asked to commit crimes, against our veterans, then you wouldn’t be here,” I shot back. “They could’ve quit. They could’ve gone to the press. But they didn’t. That was a choice.”

A young couple holding hands gave us a side-eyed look as they awkwardly shuffled past, and I breathed deep down to my belly, trying to calm the pulse that was jumping under my skin. I could hear Marcus exhale through his nostrils as well, like a bull in a ring, matching the one inked on his neck. His tattoo never felt more fitting.

“Maybe your parents threatened to kill mine? That’s why they stayed?” he growled. “We all know it’s possible. They seem have no problem shoving daggers into people’s chests.”

When I looked at him, I actually stepped back. I could see it—he wanted to hurt me, not just my parents, but me. He blamed me for all of this, for taking away his luxurious life in his Boston brownstone. God, I thought we couldn’t have been closer that night in his room. Now look at us.

“I am not responsible for my parents’ actions.” It was a line I told myself a million times a day. I practically had it written on my bathroom mirror in lipstick. I never thought I’d have to say it to Marcus, though. “And you are not responsible for your family’s actions.”

“No, you just want to take my entire family away from me. First my parents, next Antonio.”

What? My throat squeezed.

Antonio seduced my sister, while spying against us, for his parents. He let Marcus and me go to Brazil, even after he suspected Cross might be wise to his deception. He was the reason Marcus drank poison, and the reason I almost watched him die. Was I really supposed to let Antonio stay in the room down the hall after that?

“Marcus, I think we should go back to Julian, and England, before we say anything else we can’t take back.” I tried to keep my voice calm, but inside everything was clenching. Especially my heart. I squeezed the ring on my finger.

We both lost our parents today. His were locked up in prison and mine were facing death if I took so much as a step in their direction. What hope did we have left? It felt like I was losing everything—my parents’ lives, everyone’s safety, my sister’s sanity, and now him.

“I don’t regret anything I’ve said.” Marcus shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You asked earlier if I wish your parents were dead. I wish your parents stayed dead. And if you don’t feel that way, then we have nothing more to talk about.” He stomped back toward the steps we’d come from, where we’d left Julian. “I’m done.”

Done? I blinked. What did he mean? Because it didn’t feel like he was talking just about espionage… Were we done? After everything?

Slowly, my feet moved in his direction, following him. But I didn’t want to ask my questions. I didn’t want to know the answers. I had thought that Marcus and I would always be on the same side. It was our unspoken promise—our families were awful, but we would never blame each other for actions other people committed. Only he was blaming me now. He was breaking up with me. My parents were facing the death penalty. His parents were likely in a maximum-security prison. And any hope we had of regaining our normal lives was over. Forever.

Tears pooled in my eyes, blurring his image as I watched him walk away. From me.

…

Our chartered plane was so quiet that when the flight attendant asked if I’d like a beverage, I jolted out of my leather chair. Julian was the only one who had spoken in the past hour. He’d acquired a few logistics from the government agents that carted off Marcus’s parents in black sedans. They were being extradited to America and would be held in a federal prison until such time that they could receive a fair trial. Julian offered to find the Reys a lawyer, which was generous as always, especially since he didn’t know what charges they would be defending themselves against. He had gotten the impression that the list of crimes would be dependent on “how cooperative” the Reys were. Given Marcus’s parents turned themselves in with the hopes of garnering the best deal possible, I was guessing their cooperation would be epic. This was a good thing, though I doubted Marcus saw any positives in the situation.

I looked across the aisle at him; he wouldn’t even turn his head my way, as if he couldn’t stand to look at me. He was angry, and I didn’t blame him. His parents were gone, and I suggested we no longer look for mine. It was an impossible position.

I stared at Marcus, eyes drilling into him, but he kept his gaze on the inky sky out our tiny airplane portholes. We didn’t have a lifetime of happy memories to get us through this. All our best moments were mixed with tragedy. We flirted in Boston. Then my sister disappeared. We kissed in Cortona. Then assassins tried to kill us. We danced in Rio. Then Marcus was poisoned. We made love in Boston. Then his parents were arrested.

What could possibly make being with me worth all of that? What solutions did I have to offer his situation while I was so consumed with my own? Maybe this really was all ending. Maybe we were out of options, out of forgiveness.

I bit the inside of my cheek, molars digging in, needing the pain, needing to focus on something else. I tasted blood.

“It will be okay,” Julian whispered in my ear, moving to sit in the plush leather seat beside me as if reading the dark thoughts written on my face.

“It won’t be,” I croaked in a barely audible voice.

What if Marcus left us? Why would he continue to risk his life for a girl he resented?

“I know things look bleak, but we’ll come up with a plan. He’ll get past this. There is nothing to forgive you for.” Julian lightly rubbed my arm.

I was a constant reminder of everything that went wrong with Marcus’s family.

“It’s over, Julian.” I looked at him with droopy, defeated eyes. “Anything we do, we’re screwed. And he hates me.”

“He doesn’t. We’re not giving up. We’ll figure something out—for you, your sister, and him.” He nodded toward Marcus while still holding my gaze. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. That doesn’t go away.”

Yes, it does. Divorce happens. Love dissolves. Families end. I knew that better than most.