After the ninth hour of surgery, Maya fled for the roof.
Unlimited resources and access to a genius had done their work. By noon, Ava and Mace had constructed a cutting-edge operating room. Savitri took confident control, conscripting Rafe and Ava to assist. She and Mace disappeared into it with Gray, while Dr. Wells hovered over an unconscious Conall.
There’d been nothing left for Maya to do but wait. Wait, pacing anxiously, while Dani tried to convince her to eat and Nina tried to convince her to sleep and Knox channeled all of his obvious panic into fretting over Maya.
Their concern was well-meant and terrifying. The more they petted and hovered and tried to make her feel better, the more it felt like disaster was imminent. By hour five, her nerves were raw. By hour seven, she wanted to scream.
Nine hours in, she snapped.
But while her flight to the roof freed her from their solicitous concern, nothing let her outrun the anxiety.
Two percent. The number throbbed in her head, despite her best efforts to banish it. She settled cross-legged on the walkway and glared up at the TechCorps. Night had fallen at some point, and the bright glow on the Hill burned into her sleep-deprived eyes.
Little lights darted around the main building like nervous fireflies. Cars, carrying people to late-night meetings. Did they know Tobias Richter had gone rogue, yet? Did they know he was dead? The aftershocks of what had happened would rip through the TechCorps, eroding their foundation. They’d be vulnerable.
Two percent.
Maya squeezed her eyes shut.
Two percent wasn’t that low. The chances of drawing three of a kind in poker was barely over 2 percent, and she’d done that a ton of times. Only 0.2 percent for a flush, and she’d taken Rafe’s entire stash of fancy chocolates a few weeks ago after pulling one of those.
Four of a kind was 0.02 percent. Conall had won his way free of his bar tab at Clem’s with four kings a month back and had almost gotten into a fight over cheating—which he had not been doing—and counting cards—which Maya definitely had. She’d ended the night with a straight flush of bleeding hearts and only defused the fraught situation by using her winnings to buy everyone drinks.
A straight flush wasn’t even 0.002 percent.
There were so many numbers in her head. She worked her way through them, buying herself hope with blackjack, praying with poker, cataloging every long odd and lightning strike in TechCorps history.
Her eyes burned with the lack of sleep and her body coiled tighter and tighter, a spring that exploded into startled movement when the door opened at the far end of the walkway.
Maya lurched upright, so wobbly she had to grab at the railing to steady herself. Savitri stepped out onto the walkway in a pair of scrubs and strode to Maya, her lips moving.
Sound came slower, through an endless tunnel. Her blood was pounding in her ears so hard she couldn’t make sense of the words. Didn’t know if she wanted to make sense of them. If this was the moment she found out the worst—
Savitri touched Maya’s shoulder. Her mouth moved again, and this time the words slammed into Maya and knocked the breath out of her. “He made it through surgery.”
She struggled to inhale. To get enough air to ask the only question that mattered. “Did it work?”
“I replaced his implant, and I made some modifications to the interface, so rejection shouldn’t be an issue.” She held up a hand. “But complications can and do happen. We won’t know much more until he wakes up.”
Maya swallowed around sudden tears. “Will he wake up?”
Savitri smiled gently. “Obviously I can’t say for sure. But I think so. The surgery went smoothly. Your medic is very skilled. I have a good feeling.”
Maybe 2 percent was enough.
Relief surged through her body, sapping the last lingering strength adrenaline had given her. Maya gripped the railing until her fingers ached, and her words cracked. “Thank you. Thank you, Savitri.”
“Here.” Savitri gently pried her hand free and steadied her. “Sit. Before you pitch over the edge and crack your head open. I just operated for ten hours and I’m not young enough to enjoy back-to-back brain surgeries anymore.”
Maya sank obediently to the catwalk, her knees feeling like rubber. “I should have taken a nap. I just…”
“Couldn’t.” Savitri leaned against the opposite railing. The city rose behind her, framing her with its shimmering glow like a halo. For a giddy moment, Maya thought she looked like an angel.
Her words, however, were far more pragmatic. “You must love the man a great deal, to hand a person like me a secret like yours.”
No, definitely not an angel. Savitri might be dressed in scrubs with her hair in a plain ponytail, but her dangerous charisma hadn’t been all manufactured by makeup and expensive clothing. Even like this she was lethally beautiful, her light-brown skin flawless, her cheekbones sharp enough to cut, those dark-brown eyes watching Maya with a scary kind of brilliance.
Savitri’s full lips curled into a knowing smile. “Ah, yes. There’s the look. You made a hasty promise in a moment of weakness, and now you’re regretting the debt you incurred.”
“No,” Maya countered. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat, if it means Gray lives. But I’m not stupid. I know you could fuck up my life.”
“I could,” Savitri agreed. “And you could be a tremendously useful asset to me. Especially in a world without Tobias Richter. But here’s the thing, Maya. I don’t want your grudging acquiescence. I want your gleeful participation. Which is why I’m going to forgive this debt. I saved your man’s life, and you don’t owe me anything in return.”
Oh, like that didn’t sound too good to be true. “Sure.”
“Really.” Savitri tilted her head, a superior little smile curving her lips. “And since you trusted me with your secret, perhaps the quickest path to a mutually beneficial arrangement is to trust you with mine.”
The smart move was silence. She could let Savitri play out her little game and not let her know that the condescension was getting under Maya’s skin. She’d lived her entire life like that—pulling inward, making herself small. Pretending she wasn’t as smart as anyone else in the room.
Pretending she wasn’t smarter.
It was exhausting. Another thing she’d been holding in, and Maya couldn’t see the point. Tobias Richter was dead. He’d done his worst, and she’d beaten him. With help from her family, admittedly, but wasn’t that the damn point?
Maya wasn’t alone. She didn’t have to hide.
And she was tired of all the predators assuming she was easy prey. “Which secret is that?” she drawled. “We’ve already established that I know who you are. Nikita Novak, former lead researcher on the Guardian Project. And that Adam’s name is actually Ryan Lemieux.”
Savitri narrowed her eyes. Her patronizing smile slipped.
“We also know that Ryan Lemieux is supposed to be dead,” Maya continued. “Though to be fair, who here isn’t supposed to be dead? I assume you faked his death somehow.”
“I didn’t,” Savitri replied. “Ryan Lemieux is quite dead.” Her expression was still a pleasant mask, but her eyes … Oh hell, her eyes.
Pain. Rage. Loss.