“Get him in the car,” Steiner demanded, and someone shoved him.

Silas caught his balance, careful to keep his eyes down and not looking for Peri. She might be gone, or she might be on a roof watching them. He didn’t want to give her away if it was the latter. He was confident the last place she’d be was her old apartment.

She’d left everything of her past behind, including him.

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

“Peri? We’re almost there.”

Harmony’s soft voice shocked through Peri. Her doze shredded with the jagged realization that she’d forgotten Harmony was driving the car—not Jack. That she’d nodded off at all was disturbing. But then again, she’d not had a chance to sleep for a while.

“Sorry,” Harmony said, and Peri took her hand off her coat’s pocket and the three pens of Evocane there. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t,” Peri lied. “I forgot that it was you driving, not Jack.”

Harmony’s hands tightened on the wheel. The car still smelled like fast-food chicken, and with four empty coffee cups in the console, she wasn’t surprised at the faint need to use the bathroom. The bright center of Detroit was behind them, leaving only the grittier outskirts where old city sprawl met decayed suburbs. Having sacrificed the edges to save the center, Detroit had left thousands to fend for themselves or move inward. It always surprised Peri how many chose the former, fearing they’d be taken advantage of or believing if they stuck it out, their property values would again rise.

Not likely, she thought as she wiggled her feet back into her new boots before pulling her WEFT-supplied jacket tighter about her shoulders. Detroit was currently balanced with high profit. The few areas left to themselves due to politicking and corruption lingered, attracting gangs and low-end drugs.

Get in. Find Michael and Allen. Kill Michael—not Allen. Get out. Easy peasy. But a slight, unusual tremor shook her hands. With it was a rising need to do something, an itch very akin to the sensation of adrenaline crawling along her synapses. The feeling was familiar—she tasted it every time she went out on task. This time, though, it hurt, the ache reaching to the pit of her belly and cutting like a knife. Nausea oozed in behind it, and her legs hurt, as if she’d had a fever. It was a warning: withdrawal.

Her heart gave a pound, and her fingers stretched, touching her pocket again as she recalled Silas’s worry when he gave her the Evocane. His expression was nothing new. She’d seen it a hundred times before. But now, with the thoughts of their last year at Opti training ringing through her, that same look held new meaning. He’d loved her then. He loved her now. Seeing her younger self care for him, try to pull him from his depression and guilt . . . the lure to find some happiness with him was frighteningly strong.

A lump rose in her throat, and she fought it. He’d given her the Evocane knowing what it would do to her, he had let her walk away knowing her path would lead to more trouble, not less, and he stayed behind to muddle her trail, helping her the only way he could. And for what? So he would feel that ache and guilt again when her choice was utterly gone and she was dead or Bill’s tool once more? She couldn’t do this to him again. He felt too deeply, too long.

I never seem to have a choice, she thought as the pinch of need grew. She had two hours until she had to dose up, but unless she wanted to risk a full withdrawal while dealing with Michael, she’d have to shoot up now—in front of Harmony. It bothered her.

“You miss him,” Harmony said softly, misreading her grimace.

“Silas?” Peri fumbled in her pocket, the click of the injector pen sounding loud as she uncapped it. “I hardly remember him,” she said, trying to make light of it as she tugged her waistband down and jammed the tip into her thigh. The prick of the lance turned into a dull ache. “But he remembers me,” she said, voice strained. She was good for another twenty-four hours.

Harmony was still looking at her when she glanced up, the woman’s expression unreadable in the unlit, snow-caked streets of abandoned Detroit. “Not Silas. Jack,” Harmony finally said. “You know . . . you thought he was driving the car?” she prompted.

Peri’s lips parted, her first hot refusal dying. Apparently she did miss him—in a way. “You’ve never worked with anyone before, have you?” Peri said, feeling like a drug addict as she tossed the spent injector into the trash.

Harmony’s expression became closed. “All the time. I’ve never been afforded the chance to work alone.”

“I mean, worked so closely and for so long with someone that you know each other’s moods, methods. How fast he can hot-wire a car or that it takes him thirty seconds to subdue someone expecting it, five if they aren’t.” That he likes his coffee with four inches of ice when it’s hot and he curses in Spanish when his cell phone craps out. That he knows where your shoulder cramps after a morning at the range, and to turn up the TV when that commercial with the goat comes on.

“You still love him,” Harmony said, looking angry—misled, maybe.

Peri stared across the car at her, wondering whether Harmony was having second thoughts and that Peri might run to Opti as Steiner had predicted. “Enough to kill him, sure,” Peri said lightly. “And if I ever see him again, I’ll do just that.”

Harmony’s shoulders eased. Silent, she took a side street, cutting across the snow-covered parking lot of a sporadically lit Wally World. It was almost empty, not with the hour but from neglect. Glancing behind them, Peri settled into the cushions. “I’m still trying to figure out why you’re doing this.”

Harmony shrugged as she parked under a light that was in view of one of the security cams. “You know that glass ceiling that doesn’t exist anymore? I hit it two years ago.”

Peri took in her guilt, but not knowing what it was there for. “No,” she said. “I want to know why. Right now. You don’t throw your career away trying to save it.”

Harmony turned the engine off. Hands landing back on the wheel, she stared out the front window. “He butchered my team with less thought than he’d give slapping a mosquito. He did it because they didn’t have the information he wanted. That doesn’t deserve to walk around.”

Peri’s thoughts sifted through the cracks in her fragmented mind, catching on emotions without faces attached to them. This, she understood. “I figured it was something like that.”