Page 31 of Cold Mercy

After he died, I joined the military just to get away from the stench of his legacy.

When Grace recruited me, I wanted to hunt down scum exactly like him; the corrupted, dirty ones who sign with cartels while their wife and children wait at home. Aurora is built on men like him: politicians, doctors, lawyers, and, of course, plenty of cops.

I take a step toward her investigation board, gesturing to the chaotic web of photos and strings she's built over two years. For a second, I'm genuinely impressed as I look at the sheer volume of scenarios she's mapped out, while I was so closed off to any possibility other than her guilt. She's doing the same work I have, just from the other side of the mirror.

And then it hits me; I actually mentioned his death. I never talk about him, ever. I'm surprised by my own choice of lie, wondering why the hell my brain pulled that specific card from the deck. It's almost like a small, treacherous part of me wanted to offer her something real, even if it was wrapped in a convenient fabrication.

I push the thought away and turn back to her, my eyes locking onto hers.

“Aurora didn’t start the day your fiancé died, Sophia. They’ve been doing this for years.”

My eyes darkening with what I make sure looks painfully like recognition. I take a step closer, watching her grip tighten on the knife, the way her chest rises and falls with every ragged breath.

“I know why I hate them,” I say quietly. “But what is the answer for you?”

She lets out a harsh, incredulous breath.

“Oh, please. Don’t act stupid, Reed. It doesn't suit you.”

Good girl. But knowing the truth now isn't enough for me. I need to hear it. I want to hear the conviction in her voice, to see the fire when she defends herself.

“I refuse to believe you haven’t heard the rumors. Half of New York suspects Noah was working for them. That he was one of them. And that I’m the happy widow who took his place in Aurora, running the show like nothing happened.”

“And what is the truth?” I ask, keeping my voice inviting.

“The truth?” she spits out. “The truth is, I don’t know if he worked for them. I dug through everything, and I never found a single piece of proof that confirmed it. But I know Aurora killed him. So I’m tracking down the whole group. I’m taking them apart piece by piece.”

I move closer, invading her personal space, testing her boundaries. My gaze drops to her hands, then back to her eyes, looking for a crack.

“And what about you?” I ask softly. “Where do you fit in all this?”

“Me?” she hisses. “Everything I have now, every single cent in my accounts, is clean and documented. I built this by myself so no one could ever question me.”

I watch her, and she no longer looks suspicious; she looks furious, and it suits her.

“I believe you,” I say, surprisingly meaning it.

“I didn’t ask for your belief,” she snaps. “I asked who you really are and how the hell you managed to crawl your way into my friends.”

Excellent question. The timing was impeccable, because when Mercer took a bullet to his chest, James Calloway was already looking for an IT spec at his firm, and we saw an opportunity too perfect to miss. We forged the documents, built the backstory, and I walked through the front door with a smile. But I can't quite tell her that.

“I didn’t even know James and Elizabeth were connected to you until months after I started working for him,” I say, and I sound annoyingly honest even to my ears. “They were already calling me a friend. It was... luck. Or fate, if you believe in that bullshit.”

“Right,” she scoffs. “Trained as an assassin, works as an IT guy. Makes perfect sense.”

Good, she's still suspicious. Not good for me, but it means she isn't just falling for the pretty face and my charm; she's smart, she's analyzing, and asking questions she should be asking.

“I am in IT. Before James hired me, I was a government analyst. I left because that job chews people alive, and I wanted something normal. James pays well, gives me space. And yes, I’m trained because I was in the Marines before any of that. It’s old history.”

I move closer, deliberately closing the gap until I'm standing right in front of her.

“I can help you, Sophia. I know what it’s like to lose someone to these people. We’re chasing the same ghosts, so let me prove who I am by helping you finish what you started.”

We're standing side by side now, and I can see in her eyes the confusion warring with the desire to believe me.

“Fine,” she says, her voice cold. “But on my terms. If you do anything without telling me, or I catch even a hint you’re hiding something, I won’t fucking hesitate.”

I know I've won. A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth, cocky and satisfied, and I take a step closer, ready to seal the deal.