Chapter Four

“What is with you?” Keira asked, tugging her arm from my grip.

We were standing in Julian’s enclosed glass porch, with everyone still in view. Including Antonio.

“He’s a spy,” I said.

“Who?” Her face twisted.

“Antonio. He used to work for Department D. He admitted it.”

“What do you mean, used to?” She picked at my words.

I did my best to explain Antonio’s story, but I could see the doubt in her eyes.

“He wasn’t a spy? Not really.” Keira clung to what she wanted to hear, just like Marcus, just like most people. But being wrong about Antonio wouldn’t mean a bad date or unanswered texts. It was life or death.

“He worked for Department D, the people who kidnapped you.”

“But he didn’t have anything to do with what happened to me, did he?”

“No,” I admitted. Antonio had confirmed that much at the pub, and for some reason, I believed him.

“And he said he quit the second he learned about my kidnapping?”

“Well, yes,” I continued, not liking her simplistic line of questioning. He was a criminal—that meant run the other way. It didn’t matter if he had dimples.

“Then what exactly are you holding against him?” she asked. “You must not think he’s so bad if you brought him here.”

“I brought him here because of Marcus.” I pointed to the terrace.

Antonio was mussing his brother’s hair as the two of them laughed in a way that said, “I won’t let you get away with anything.” Even Marcus’s smile looked different around him, brighter, and they whispered a lot, shared a lot of looks. Maybe Marcus would be happier if I wasn’t around?

“Antonio doesn’t look so bad,” said Keira.

“Of course you’d think that.” But my irritation wasn’t really for her.

“Does it bother you that Marcus is happy?” She raised an eyebrow.

“No,” I lied.

Of course it bothered me. We’d spent countless nights lying in hotel rooms post-Venice, discussing the exact face Marcus would make when he wanted to kiss me, how exhilarated I felt when I was on the back of his motorcycle, and how my body seemed to tingle every time he got close. Now, it turned out all those smiles he gave only glimmered halfway; he had a whole different wattage reserved for his family. Maybe I did, too. Maybe I acted differently around Keira. After all, I was about to leave him. I was choosing her.

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot.” The image of me sitting on Urban’s lap flashed in my brain. He was sending me baby pictures. He was reaching out. And Marcus was pulling away, toward his brother, who worked for the enemy and flirted with my sister. “It’s time. We need to leave.”

“London?” she asked.

“Everyone.”

Keira shook her head. “No, we’ve talked about this.” Actually, we argued about this. “We have the CIA; they can protect us.”

“Do you really think that’s what they’re doing?” I grunted. “They’re using us to get to Mom and Dad.”

“So you admit they’re alive?” Keira shot me a look.

My sister was 100 percent convinced our parents would return to us with arms wide open. Maybe it was because she’d been responsible for me for several years, maybe she wanted that weight off her shoulders, or maybe she just wanted all of this to mean something. If we went into hiding, then all of her suffering—months in captivity, years as my guardian, a medical career lost—was for nothing. But if the end of this damaged journey led to a parental loving embrace, then in her eyes, maybe it was worth it.

I didn’t share her view. Not just because I had a third parent in the equation, but because I refused to let my hopes lift any higher than the gutter. I was done being blindsided by pain. What I had right now, in front of me, was the sister the world thought was dead. I got her back. If protecting that miracle meant walking away, even from Marcus, even from our parents, I was willing to do it. I couldn’t lose her again.

“Mom and Dad are either dead or they abandoned us. I’m not sure which is worse,” I said bluntly. “But if they are alive, we don’t know how many people, how many lunatics, think we’re walking maps to their doorsteps. They’ll use us, and they’ll hurt us. Again.”

“Then we’ll stop looking for them.” She shrugged like it was easy. “Why do we need to go anywhere to do that?”

“Because everyone on that terrace is somehow connected to Department D, Marcus and Antonio especially!” I stared at the gray sky, aggravated. Did she think I wanted to do this? I was about to walk away from a guy I cared about because of our parents, because of things that they did. They committed crimes, they had an affair, and they put us in danger. All we could do now was survive. “As long as we’re linked to them, we’re not safe. Especially if Mom and Dad are alive. We have to go off the grid.”

Keira kept shaking her head, water droplets splashing from her hair onto my cheek. “You really think we can disappear and never wonder about them, never hope we bump into them, never try to find out the truth?”

“I can,” I replied honestly. I hoped I never saw any of my parents ever again. But my sister started this mess by asking these very same questions, by ordering a DNA test. Maybe this was her way of admitting she couldn’t keep her end of the bargain, even if it meant our lives. “I almost lost you, because you wanted to know the truth. And I’m not blaming you, but Keira, they’re not worth it. If Mom and Dad are alive, they left us. They hurt us. On purpose. Why should we give them a chance to hurt us anymore?”

“But what if they’re in danger? What if that’s why we haven’t heard from them?” Her voice was small.

“They were criminals. They can handle themselves.” My jaw tightened.

I couldn’t be expected to worry about the hypothetical safety of the people who did this to us. I had to worry about our own, and the longer we stayed here, the greater the odds that the next communication wouldn’t be a photo emailed to Charlotte. It might not even be from Urban. Clearly, the espionage world knew how to get to us. It wasn’t safe.

“They’re still our parents,” Keira stated.

“Try telling them that.”

Her shoulders slumped at my words, all of the buzz from having spoken to a cute guy gone. She was visibly curling back into herself; it was the same hunched posture she’d sported every day since I found her in Venice, as if the weight of this situation, her entire ordeal, pressed on her every minute of every day. We had to stop this cycle of pain.

“Hey! What are you two talking about so seriously?” Marcus yelled from the terrace, smiling widely. At me.

“Sí, get out here!” Antonio waved a glass of champagne at Keira, then threatened to dump it on Marcus’s head. They chuckled, dodging one another, each hoisting a menacing glass of bubbles like mischievous boys. Like brothers.

Keira stepped toward the sliding glass doors, glancing over her shoulder. “Are you going to tell them, or should I?”

My stomach rolled. Why did I let myself get so attached? I knew it was going to end. It always did.

I followed Keira out, praying for a meteor so I could put off the conversation. Only before astrological intervention could strike, Keira lifted a silver knife and tapped it against a crystal flute. “Everyone, my sister has an announcement.”

Her hazel eyes dared me to reconsider, and she knew forcing me to face Marcus was the only way that might happen. My cheeks flamed with heat.

“Que?” Marcus looked at me.

Charlotte strolled over, ears perked.

My gaze flicked between the two of them; the thought of never seeing her or Marcus again was like being told I’d never see my feet again. I needed them. They were essential for moving forward. Charlotte’s eyes fixed on mine, and instantly she knew. Maybe she knew the second she showed me that photo.

“It’s time.” I hid my gaze in the setting sun, away from their faces. “For Keira and me…it’s time to go.”

I heard Charlotte huff, like she was annoyed at having been right.

“What do you mean? Go where?” Marcus asked, as though he didn’t understand, as though the language barrier between us was suddenly heightened.

“I don’t know where, just away, from Department D.” I was now willing the sunset to blind me, so I wouldn’t have to see their expressions.

“I’ll go with you,” Marcus offered.

When I didn’t respond, Charlotte stepped closer.

“I don’t think you’re invited,” she answered for me. I turned toward her, dizzying black spots in my vision from the brilliant glare. “It’s true, isn’t it? If you want to get away from Department D, you can’t lug around a guy whose family still works for the company. Or a girl who hacks their communications, who receives all their messages.”

She was hinting at the baby photo, but I wasn’t leaving because of the photo. This had been my plan for awhile, but Urban reaching out didn’t help. “I’m sorry. I just don’t see another way for us to get away from the danger.”

Tears welled in my eyes. They were all looking at me like after everything they’d done I had the nerve to leave them behind. But it wasn’t like that. I wanted to stay, I wanted to be with them, but there was a reason programs like Witness Protection existed: because sometimes disappearing was the only option.

“I understand your position, but might I offer an alternative suggestion?” Julian piped up, and everyone turned his way. “Running off, starting over, it is a viable choice. But so is coming forward.”

I rolled my eyes, stifling a groan. I knew exactly what he was going to say. He’d said it before. More than once.

Julian held up a manicured finger, predicting my reaction. “Hear me out,” he insisted. “I know you’ve been resistant in the past, but maybe the time has come. If you tell your story to me, I can protect you, help you perfect your image. I promise I will put your safety first, and believe me, it is not a kindness that will be afforded to you should your story get out through alternative means—”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Are you saying you’ll report on it anyway?” It sounded like a threat.

“No.” He shook his head. “I would never publish your story without your permission. I’m too invested, in all of you.” He looked at Charlotte as he said this. “But becoming a public figure has its advantages. I should know. Namely, it would be very hard for someone to harm you and for it to go unquestioned. But if you go off on your own, with no identities, no one to look for you, a person could get away with anything.”

“He has a point.” Charlotte peered at me, begging me to reconsider.

Keira and Marcus’s eyes held the same hopeful glare.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Marcus said. Of course, he agreed with Julian.

“We should at least consider it,” Keira added.

But they weren’t thinking it through. This plan meant putting our lives entirely in Julian Stone’s hands and ignoring a very scary repercussion.

The rest of the world thought my sister was dead. The CIA had convinced us to stay quiet, for the sake of avoiding this exact type of public scrutiny. Girl back from the dead! Chained to a sink! Photographed in the trunk of a car! News at eleven. Once Julian came forward with Keira’s story, even an edited version, we’d become a 20/20 special that would air in perpetuity, only increasing our chances that some persistent reporter (not Julian) would eventually dig for the facts we left out—like the motive behind my sister’s abduction. This would inevitably lead to our parents, which would lead to espionage, which would lead us to being the children of crime lords who might also not be dead. What sort of lives would we have after that? We’d publicly be known as the children of Benedict Arnold, and there would be nothing Julian Stone could do to stop that. Both of our options sucked, but at least with mine, we got to suffer without the spotlight.

“We can’t.” I shook my head, looking at my sister. “You know this. Even if Julian tried to protect us, and I believe you would”—I smiled at him in appreciation—“some other journalist would not. Mom and Dad’s lives, their crimes, would come out. Everyone would know our names, our faces, and not in a good way. Every job you applied for, every guy you met would know who you are—or think they know who you are. We’d never be able to trust anyone.”

“Like that’s so different from now,” Antonio quipped, as if this were funny, as if he had a right to an opinion.

Marcus and I both shot him a look.

“Que?” Antonio shrugged. “From what I’ve heard…”

“Don’t,” Marcus interjected, eyeing him with a warning.

Unspoken words passed between them. Marcus had talked to his brother about me. It made sense. I talked to Keira. But the way Antonio was looking at me, I felt like a girl seeing her name scrawled on a bathroom stall. These weren’t romantic dreamy conversations, Marcus complained about me. Suddenly, the two sips of champagne floating in my stomach turned sour.

“I don’t know,” said Keira, pulling my attention. “I hear what you’re saying, but going on the run, constantly looking over our shoulders, doesn’t sound much better—”

“If we do what Julian’s saying, we can never take it back. We can’t undo a globally televised interview,” I pointed out, desperate to make her see reason. “We’d have to live forever as the children of terrorists. Do you think anyone’s going to want to hang out with me at school? Do you think a parent is going to trust you to care for their sick kid once they read your name on a hospital chart?”

“But we didn’t do anything wrong,” Keira whined.

“Like that stopped them from kidnapping you!”

“I could frame the story to present you in the most positive light, make sure everyone knows you are completely innocent, the victims in all of this,” Julian offered.

“I believe you, Julian,” I said, my voice filled with exasperation for having to defend my position. “But you’re one journalist out of millions. Not to mention, what if our parents are alive? If we’re in hiding, we can go through it together, quietly. But if we go public, the press, the whole world, will eat us alive.”

“We should at least talk this out before you go anywhere,” Charlotte insisted.

“No. We shouldn’t.” I tossed my hands in the air. “I know you all want to offer your opinions. I know you think you have our best interests at heart. I get that. But my gut told me that Craig was a psychopath, that Keira was alive, and that I should keep searching for her no matter what.” I eyed my sister pointedly. “If I had listened to anyone else’s opinion—anyone else’s—you’d still be chained to a bathroom sink somewhere.”

All eyes instantly darted away, mouths shut like the truth was a poisonous fog they refused to breathe. But they couldn’t ignore it. This wasn’t their lives. It was Keira and me. And the last time Keira asked questions about our parents and spoke out, she disappeared from a tub full of blood.

We had to go into hiding to stay safe. I believed that in my heart. It was what the CIA recommended, after all—they gave us new names, new passports, and told us to get lost. Charlotte and Julian infiltrated that plan. Without asking us. And even though I listened to them, then listened to Marcus’s fear over his missing brother, I now had to listen to myself.

“Okay, we’ll do it your way.” Keira grabbed my hand in solidarity. Finally. “We’ll leave. You’re right.” She smiled at me, and in that one gesture, I felt less alone.

Julian nodded once. “All right.” He projected his voice like a practiced politician. “This is your decision to make. We all know that. So if you need to leave, please know this is not goodbye forever. It is just goodbye for now.” He rested a reassuring palm on Charlotte’s shoulder, and she leaned into him, physically needing the support. I was leaving her, after everything she’d done, and I knew she’d blame herself, but this wasn’t about one picture. It was much more than that. Julian squeezed her arm tighter. “Department D has ruined enough lives. It will not ruin any more. We will expose them, I promise you that, and like you said, the choice you’re making can be undone. You can change your minds, so…” He looked at all of us. “’Til we meet again!”

He raised his champagne flute, and there were a few halfhearted mumbles of “Cheers,” but the toast felt worthier of a wake than a sunset.

Marcus kept his eyes on the patio tiles, his expression grim. I wanted to hug him, kiss him, and take that horrible look off his face, but I’d only make it worse. This was happening.

Antonio shifted toward Keira, and she dropped my hand. They resumed their conversation, smiling and saying good-bye before they really had a chance to say hello. It was better this way, I told myself. The two of them could move on before anything started, before anyone got hurt.

Marcus and I couldn’t say the same.