The corner of Ava’s lip quirked. That might actually be a real smile. God, she really did like it when people threatened her. “Acknowledged.”
“What the fuck ever.” Conall pointedly returned his attention to his tablet. Ava watched him for several moments in earnest curiosity as the gentle rhythms of the dinner prep resumed around them. After a straight minute of Conall intently pretending she didn’t exist, however, her attention drifted back to assessing the activity in the kitchen.
Maya placed the final fork and slid into her usual seat next to Conall. His slightly unfocused eyes darted back and forth like he was reading words in the air in front of him—which he likely was. One glimpse at the surface of his tablet confirmed he’d synced it with his smart lenses, feeding most of the data straight to his virtual display.
But there was enough on the tablet screen to twist her gut into anxious knots. “Is that what I think it is?” she whispered.
“Do you think it’s Tobias Richter’s inbox?” Conall’s voice had resumed its usual good humor. “Because yeah. I’m doing my daily check-in, thanks to our evil genius murder-friend over there.”
Maya’s gaze stole to Ava again, who seemed utterly oblivious as she watched Knox navigate the kitchen with the predatory gaze of someone assessing vulnerabilities.
Several months ago, when Nina had coordinated a little mass fraud against the TechCorps by faking the deaths of the Silver Devils, Ava had provided a twist of her own—malware encoded directly into the faux corpses’ DNA. The TechCorps had taken the 3D-printed fake bodies back to their labs for analysis and introduced the nastiest bit of code Maya had ever seen directly into their high-security systems.
Of course, Maya was living proof that not every damning thing made it to their servers. She existed solely to hide the secrets too volatile, too dangerous, or simply too potentially damaging to commit to a digital paper trail. Richter’s plans with Mace hadn’t been anywhere in the TechCorps system.
Plenty of other horrifying things were. Maya propped her chin on her hand and leaned closer, scanning the list of subject lines from his incoming messages.
Re: Termination of Labor Organizers in East Atlanta
MEMO: Reduction in benefits to L5 Employees
Prisoner conscription for Project Cerberus
Re: Expanded Ex-Sec Recruitment
Security Evaluation & Background Check: Cerys (Surname Unknown)
Protectorate candidates at St. Mary’s
Executions scheduled for: 2086/10/17
“If this is the sort of shit he wants a digital trail for,” Conall murmured, “I’d hate to see the inside of his data courier’s head.”
The memory sideswiped Maya. She was ten, so young and already feeling ancient, huddled alone in the back of a class on assembly language. The entire back row had cleared out when she sat down, students scrambling to distance themselves from a data courier who could remember their slightest transgression—and presumably report it straight to a VP. Even the teacher wouldn’t look directly at her, probably hoping she’d give up and switch to taking the course virtually.
Maya almost had … and then she’d walked in. Fifteen to Maya’s ten, already tall and long-limbed, looking glamorous in a sequined sundress in vivid green that complemented her long, red hair and pale skin. Cara Kennedy had flashed the teacher a challenging smile that dared the woman to comment on her tardiness—or her flagrant violation of the dress code—then glided between the desks as if the other students were simply beneath her notice.
She’d claimed the seat next to Maya with a mischievous wink and her first murmured bit of advice. “Don’t ever let them run you off. They should fear us.”
“Maya?” Conall’s low whisper was edged with worry. “Are you okay?”
Maya squeezed her eyes shut and gently shook her head, physically shaking free of the memory. “Sorry,” she said, drawing in a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, she saw the dining room table again.
“Hey, don’t.” Conall flipped the tablet shut. “Was it something I said?”
“No. Well, kind of.” Maya exhaled roughly. “It’s just … I know her. Richter’s data courier, I mean. We were kind of friends. For a while, anyway.”
“No shit. What’s she like?”
Brilliant. Confident. Generous. Relentless. Cara had been all of those things—sweet on the surface but capable of pivoting on a dime to swift and ruthless vengeance. Cara had known the leverage she held as Richter’s data courier—not of her official position, but the reflected power of the fear Richter inspired. And she’d used it. Constantly.
“Complicated,” Maya said finally. “She’s complicated.”
“I bet.” Conall shoved the tablet away and raised his voice. “Hey, are we eating soon?”
“Absolutely,” Dani declared. “Gray and Mace will just have to hope there are leftovers.”
“We made plenty.” Knox smiled reassuringly at Maya as he carried the huge stew pot over to the table, and that was when she really thought about what Conall had said before.
Gray … was with Mace.
Gray was with the medic.
Worry knotted in her gut so tight that not even the scent of Knox’s fresh bread could revive her hunger. She glanced at the empty chair where Gray normally sat and tried to pretend everything was fine as dishes were passed around the table.
But she couldn’t relax.
Finally, Gray and Mace stepped through the back door, deep in hushed conversation. Then Gray looked up, and his eyes locked with hers.
And he smiled.
The biggest knot unraveled. But Maya studied Gray’s face as he crossed to the table, and pinpricks of worry remained. Most people probably wouldn’t notice. His expression was unremarkable. Maybe even unusually relaxed. But his stride was a little off, his usual grace and precision replaced by the forced casualness of someone who couldn’t entirely trust his body would do what he told it to. There were shadows beneath his eyes, and the lines around them were deeper than they should have been.
He slid into the chair next to her, and Maya snuck her hand under the table to find his. “You okay?”
He squeezed her hand. “I’m good.”
She wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to be. That he could show her his weakness, and she’d take care of him, the way he had taken care of her. But Conall jabbed her with an elbow to get her attention, and she had to release Gray’s hand to take the basket of bread and tear off a hunk.
The last time they’d tried a family dinner, Knox had ended up with a knife in his shoulder. But no one said anything as Mace slid into what was now his customary seat—the one with the quickest path to the exit. He didn’t exactly look comfortable as he ladled stew into his bowl, but at least he was less jumpy.
Knox surveyed them all, looking happy enough to burst. So did Nina, for that matter. Just a proud mom and dad overseeing their misfit band of rogue supersoldiers, fugitive criminals, evil clones, and one random superkid.
It was ridiculous. And kind of perfect. Maya snuck her hand under the table to find Gray’s again, and this time she didn’t let go.
TECHCORPS PROPRIETARY DATA, L1 SECURITY CLEARANCE