My lips are stinging. Simon’s hand drops from my throat and flattens on my sternum. We stare at each other for one harsh breath. Then I push off the wall and he moves back—following my lead.
I move past him and grab the remote off the bed, turning up the volume. The screen switches to a helicopter view of the city. A tremor runs through my body at the blackened city. The streets are streams of red and white light from cars, but everything else is dark.
So many people will be hurt. How many will die?
“It’s estimated that over a half million people are trapped on subways.” The anchor’s voice lays over the video footage. “Temperatures are expected to drop below freezing tonight.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, my imagination painting a horrific picture of being trapped in utter blackness underground with a train full of strangers and no way out. My flesh goose bumps, the cold of a New York winter night gripping my memory.
“According to our sources, while the blackout does appear to be a cyber attack, no demands have been made. With me on the phone is Senator Richard Chiles, an Independent member of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence and a former officer at the Defense Intelligence Agency. Thank you for joining us, Senator Chiles.”
My jaw clenches at his name—such a fuckturd. The man isn’t just a classic narcissist politician, no, he’s also a ruthless psychopath willing to hurt anyone for his own personal gain. Consuela Sanchez was engaged to the monster—like most of his kind, he can be very charming and appear empathetic when it suits him. I glance over at Simon…they share a skill set.
“I wish I were here under better circumstances.” Richard’s deep voice plays over shots of the city.
“Can you give us some insight into this horrific attack on New York City?”
“Let me start by saying that my prayers and thoughts are with every person in the city. New York is the greatest city in the world, and it will survive this as it has survived so much. The group responsible for this attack will be found and brought to justice.”
If I didn’t know what a lying power-hungry psychopath Richard Chiles is, I would think he was saying all the right things. But I can hear the bullshit. Greatest city in the world—why does it have to be better than other cities to be worthy? Are there crappy cities that wouldn’t survive this? That would be less deserving of our concern?
“Thank you, Senator. We have not heard any demands, do you expect we will?”
“Not necessarily, Mariana.” Oh, he’s on a first-name basis with her? “The purpose of terrorism is often just to terrorize. We could be looking at an organization trying to make a name for itself.”
“Do you have any guesses who it might be?”
“I wouldn’t want to assume anything at this point, Mariana. But I can tell you that this is a very sophisticated cyber attack—they must have found a weakness that our security missed. As you can imagine, New York’s power grid is guarded with tenacious vigilance.”
Who talks like that?
Simon clears his throat. I turn to him, my brow scrunched in question. “The New York City power grid is notoriously vulnerable. All power grids are—I can think of ten ways you could infiltrate the system.”
“So why hasn’t this happened before?”
“It’s not easy to do. And it hasn’t happened before because there are as many white hats as black. But technology moves a lot quicker than state agencies and major utilities can keep up with.”
“I’m sure you’ve used that to your advantage.” I sound bitter, and it’s not a good look. As if I wouldn’t use any weakness to my advantage.
“Not for this. I’m not a terrorist, Sydney.”
I turn on him. “No, you’re not. You’re a mercenary, working for whoever pays you the most. Terrorists at least have loyalties.” I sneer at him, angry at myself and him. Feeling—completely illogically—that kissing him caused this blackout. Like a dog that hears thunder as a person enters the room and assumes they brought the thunder and cowers from them. Except I’m not the cowering kind. “How did you even know this was one of Dan’s?” I ask, pointing at the screen.
“I said I didn’t sell them, not that I didn’t look at them.” His eyes are shadowed, guarded.
“How could you even look at them? Are you a computer genius?” I ask like I expect him to say no, so when he shrugs and looks down, exasperation seizes my chest. “Of course you are. Petey Fuckin’ Poppins would be able to take out a power grid.”
“I wouldn’t, though.”
“For the right price you would.”
His eyes meet mine, and there is a spark of anger there. “I’m not a mercenary, Sydney. I’m a master at the art of deception. It’s a highly sought-after skill.”
“Used to manipulate women. Confuckingratulations. You’re a real hero.”
I push past him. He grabs my bicep and I turn back, my eyes lasered to where he holds me. My skin burns from his touch. “Let me go.” Blue growls, backing up my request.
Simon’s hand loosens but doesn’t release me. “You know me.” I raise my gaze to meet his.
“Yes, I do.” I step away from him, and his fingers fall away, sending one last trill of sensation up my arm. Simon doesn’t move as I cross to the door. He doesn’t speak as I open it. And when I turn to close it, he catches my eyes—I let him catch them. We hold there for one deep breath. His brown eyes anchor me in this moment, in this eternal present moment.
“How do you do that?” I ask, my voice small, almost a whisper.
“Do what?” he asks, matching my quiet.
I blink, wet my lips, shake my head. And he stands there doing that thing he’s done since I met him. The first time he did it I was giving birth to James—my body felt like it was cleaving in two. I couldn’t hear the ocean, smell the smoke, or see the stars. All I knew was the intensity of that pain. And it wasn’t normal pain. It was supposed to hurt. But it still scared me almost out of my mind.
A pain you’re designed to endure is even more terrifying than one you know is wrong. It’s a reminder that life is meant to ride the edge of unbearable.
In that excruciating, terrifying moment Peter held my gaze, he looked directly into my eyes and he told me: You can do this. I promise you can.
His words pulled me back into myself. They helped bring my son into this world. Faith in me—that’s the look in his eyes. Oh shit. Trust in me…that’s what anchors me.
Tears suddenly sting my eyes. Simon shifts as if to move forward, but I hold up a hand, stopping him. Two dancers so in tune they don’t even need to touch to perform.
Blue’s nose brushes my hip. I pull the door closed, cutting the connection, but the cord still hums in my chest, it still burns behind my eyes. I pull the key from the wall, turn the lock and walk out of the villa, the thrumming behind my sternum still playing our song.