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  “What do we do now?” I asked after some time had passed. I didn’t let go to check my watch, but the deadline had to have passed.

  “I don’t know. We—”

  The door lock clicked, and the door burst open. Two guards entered, guns drawn, followed by Westside and Eddie’s father.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Relay?” Westside said. “Where’s the kid?”

  Relay? Was that Eddie’s codename? Had he chosen a sports name? Did he know mine when he did it?

  And kid. That was funny that they considered Mitch a kid when he was the same age we were.

  Eddie didn’t release me, so I couldn’t fully face them.

  “You got what you wanted,” Eddie said flatly. “Mitch is gone. He’s got nothing to do with this.”

  “You need to go wait in my office,” Mr. Cochrane said, his eyes shooting daggers.

  “No, he’s a traitor now,” Westside said. “Take these two to confinement. Make sure they have no electronics, especially Winger.”

  “But—” Mr. Cochrane said.

  “No!” Westside remained shockingly firm. “We can’t let Relay’s feelings get in the way.” He looked to the two guards again. “Take them.”

  Eddie and I released our hold before the guards got to us. We went silently.

  Westside grabbed my arm to stop me before I got out of the room. “You and I have much to talk about.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  WESTSIDE HAD seemed like a short-tempered, easily provoked, junior tech in Denver; yet he seemed to be running the show here.

  Eddie had been stoic as a woman took him out of the room. I’d hoped to see where they put him, but Westside decided we’d talk first. “Since you’re here, I’m not going after any more of your friends. But you need to follow instructions, or I’ll get Mitch back. I’ll get Iris, your teammates, whoever it takes.”

  He grabbed the phone out of my hand and jammed his hand into the pocket that held the unregistered one while a man held my arms behind my back. I didn’t have the leverage or the strength to break the hold.

  “Let’s see what else you’ve got.” He pulled my left arm toward him and pushed up the hoodie sleeve. He hastily jerked at the watchband until it released, and he took that as well. “I like that you came prepared. Take the pack off him.”

  The guard had surprising strength as he wrestled the backpack off my shoulders. I gave him no resistance, though.

  I glared as he took my stuff.

  “Take him to the basement. I’ll send for you later.”

  We took the elevator down. Is this where Eddie was? For that matter, were there any TOS agents down here? Westside had made it sound like agents had been apprehended.

  Considering what Westside said about Mitch, I had to assume that he and Coach got away. The mention of recapturing him sent chills through me. I hoped I wouldn’t have to make a difficult choice—if they wanted me to do something detrimental to hundreds or thousands or millions of people, there’d have to be sacrifices.

  Cinder blocks lined the hall. There were cameras in the ceiling, but this area wasn’t on the set of cameras I’d viewed. Were these fake or had I missed a second system?

  There were four steel, windowless doors on either side of the hall. The guard used his key card to open a door on the far end of the hall. To his credit he didn’t shove me inside. Instead he let me go in before he shut the door.

  The lighting came from four fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling, just like the room upstairs. A simple metal folding chair and standard, utilitarian folding table sat against one wall. There was a basic cot with a rumpled, thin mattress and small, sad pillow on the wall opposite the table. Electric outlets were on each wall. The ethernet outlet above the table surprised me. Not only did this seem like a dank place to work, but why put me in a room with that access—although I had nothing to plug into the port. In the middle of the ceiling, a camera stood watch. This would be a fisheye that covered the entire room. There’d be no privacy except for the three-quarter walled off area that had to be a bathroom. What I couldn’t determine was if the room was mic’d. The safe assumption would be that someone listened to everything I might say.

  As I finished inventory, I didn’t know what I hoped to accomplish with the information. While I still wore the contact lenses—which would continue to function as long as the phone was within range and powered—they didn’t have any major functionality to make use of. With the TOS network compromised, and only two other pairs of lenses out there, it wasn’t like I could easily reach other agents to let them know where I was.

  Putting the lenses to use, I found that the energy flow in the room wasn’t surprising. The data looked normal too—in and out of the ethernet, the camera, and card lock. The other rooms on this floor seemed to have similar connections. At the door, I examined the card reader. It was metal and appeared to have no visible way in. I wouldn’t be cracking it open.

  Heat vision, which worked much better in here, registered two other people on the floor. The signature walking the hall had to be the guard. The other was sitting and must be in a room like I was.

  Eddie?

  Eddie’s allegiances confused me. He put up no fight over being taken into custody and his father’s disappointment didn’t faze him. Was he an ally or pretending?

  He said he’d shown up to free Mitch, but part of me wondered if they sent him in to ensure that I’d stay.

  I dropped into the chair behind the table.

  And what did Westside want from me? The thought of our talk yet to come made my heart thump faster and spread anxiety through my chest. Nothing he’d want could be good.

  Being at the source of the problem was oddly comforting, definitely better than being on the outside trying to figure out what to do. Confinement in Denver had freaked me out, but I didn’t feel that way—at least not yet.

  These lenses required a new function—ability to control the phone. That would be incredibly helpful in situations like this. It shouldn’t even be that hard to set up given the connection that was already established between the devices.

  A chuckle escaped. Sometimes my mind worked in bizarre ways—how could I come up with a lens enhancement while imprisoned? It was a pretty big leap to think that I’d be working on the lenses again anytime soon.

  The bolt on the door popped, and while the noise startled me, I put my composure in place before the door opened. Plus, the less I reacted the better.

  Westside entered with the guard who’d brought me here.

  “I’m sure you checked everything out and found that there’s no way for you to escape from this room.” He looked at me as the guard closed the door behind them. They made no move toward me. The guard stood against the door, and Westside was about two paces in front of him.

  I said nothing.

  “Have I broken you already? You had so much more bluster last time.” He paused but continued when I stayed quiet. “Why don’t we go somewhere a little more comfortable,” Westside said. “You’ve had a hectic twenty-four hours. Let’s relax over dinner?”

  What made him think I could relax? I’d be tense until he paid for what he’d done.

  The guard swiped his key, opened the door, and stepped aside. I still didn’t get up.

  “Come on.” He gestured to the door. “We need to talk about how you’ll help us. The sooner we get this done, the better for everyone.”

  I relented. I had to know what terrible thing he wanted to figure out how to stop it.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  WESTSIDE SWIPED his key card at the door farthest from the elevator on the third floor. The room easily took up a third—if not half—of the floor. It opened into a comfortable office that any tech company CEO might have. A bunch of monitors filled a wall adjacent to windows that looked out over the street. A sleek steel desk with a chair, and a large desktop monitor, sat in front of two guest chairs. A couch faced the monitor wall. In the opposite corner a circular table surrounded by six chairs
had two place settings with metal domes over the plates. A slight smell of grilled beef filled the room.

  An embarrassingly loud growl came from my stomach. It’d been several hours since I’d had anything to eat, and my stomach wasted no time calling dibs on whatever was under the dome.

  “I figured you’d be hungry, so dinner seemed appropriate while we talked.”

  Who was this nice guy?

  The guard stepped back outside and didn’t seem to lock the door—at least no sound alerted that a bolt had snapped in place. The camera in the ceiling, just like the one in the room I’d been in, made it clear Westside had backup if he needed it.

  Despite my stomach I held my ground and stayed just inside the door. Westside removed the plate covers to reveal hamburgers and fries. An interesting choice since it mirrored the last meal Eddie and I had shared. Was it deliberate or a coincidence?

  My stomach rumbled again, even louder—not helping. It hadn’t been that long since I’d eaten, had it? Sometime this morning, I think.

  “Go ahead, have a seat.” He gestured to one of the chairs as he went to a fridge built into the monitor wall. He pulled out two sodas. “Dr Pepper, as I recall, for you?”

  I stared at him.

  “Let’s not play—”

  “After what you had Eddie do to me, do you really think I’d eat with you?”

  He nodded twice and smiled. “That’s reasonable. Look, you’re already here. If it makes you feel better, you can get your own drink. You’ll find that they’re all sealed up and haven’t been tampered with. You can decide which burger you want too. They’re the same, both cooked medium.”

  Pissing him off would accomplish nothing.

  “Fair enough.” I went to the fridge and removed a bottle of Dr Pepper. It was sealed as it made the satisfying snap of the plastic cap releasing from the ring. I examined the bottle and didn’t see any patched pinholes. As a last check, I put the cap back on and turned the bottle over to see if there were any leaks above the fluid line or in the cap. It seemed okay.

  “Cautious, methodical. Nicely done.”

  The compliment bugged me. All I wanted from him were answers.

  “Now please, have a seat so we can eat before this gets cold.”

  He went to the table and stood, waiting for me to make my choice. He stood at the midpoint of the table. Ultimately, I chose the chair closest to me, set my soda on the table, and dropped into the chair.

  My stomach rumbled yet again.

  “Please, eat. There’ll be time to talk afterward.”

  He picked up his burger and took a bite as he kept his eyes focused on me. There might be a rule that I’d learn one day about not eating with the enemy, but right now it seemed like the right thing. I needed to keep my strength up and, according to my stomach, I wasn’t doing a good job.

  Mom would’ve been proud as I kept my manners in check—even placing the napkin in my lap before I took my first bite.

  It was good. Wherever he’d gotten this from, knew how to make a good burger. I managed to not wolf too much of it down at once.

  “Good, right?

  “It is. Thank you.”

  He nodded. “See, we can be friends.”

  “Friends don’t exactly do the kind of things you’ve done.”

  Surreal.

  That was the only word that came to mind.

  Having dinner and a civilized conversation with a guy who I would just as soon punch was bizarre.

  Truthfully, I’d rather do much more than a single hit, even though violence isn’t my go-to. He deserved it. And I hoped I got the chance….

  No!

  The voice in my head spoke loud and clear.

  I couldn’t think like that. It wouldn’t make this situation better. And I really didn’t want to stoop to his level. I’d defend myself if needed and would do my best to not get provoked into more. John would expect me to keep my cool as much as possible in this situation.

  Once Westside got halfway through his burger, he took a drink and even wiped his mouth before speaking.

  “All right. Let me tell you what’s happened. We have total control of the TOS network. With the tracking system, we’ve captured or killed 85 percent of the agents.” I flinched, and I hated that I did it. “I assure you that we’ve only killed those who put up a fight or posed a threat to Project Override. For the people that want to work with us, we’re allowing them to under supervision. The rest we’re holding until we complete Override.”

  There were thousands of agents—even I didn’t know the exact number despite the fact I created tech to support everyone. It seemed impossible they could get that many.

  “As for your parents,” he said, almost sounding sad, “your mother was having none of it and put up a fight that she lost. Your father is unaccounted for, somewhere in Europe. It doesn’t matter. He can finish whatever it is he’s doing, and we’ll intercept him when he returns to the States. We have Lorenzo Davenport in custody. His knowledge is too valuable to kill him, but eventually his usefulness will run out for us if he doesn’t start cooperating more.”

  I swallowed hard. He looked serious, but it could be a game. It’d better be a lie because I couldn’t imagine the alternative.

  Dad was in Europe when I’d checked a few hours back. But Mom appeared to be in Canada. She wouldn’t let herself get killed. They likely did have Lorenzo, though, based on what I’d seen.

  What I wouldn’t do was give this man the satisfaction of seeing more of a reaction than I’d already let slip.

  “They’ve been training you,” he said after a few moments of silence where I kept eating fries. “You couldn’t keep your mouth shut last time we met. Shadowcaster told me you seemed more thoughtful.”

  Shadowcaster had to have been Melissa, the Blackbird agent who’d been undercover at Glenwood Music. The woman who’d also identified herself as Westside’s wife.

  “So tell me about Override?” I finally asked.

  I didn’t need his commentary. My focus revolved around his plans and the part he needed me to play.

  A smile played across his lips. The urge to wipe it off surged through me.

  “In due time. A few more things need to click into place before I put you to work. That should be done by morning. I dug into your background once I escaped from TOS and built up a significant dossier on you. I shouldn’t have underestimated you before. Imagine my surprise at the beautiful coincidence that one of our top agents happened to be your boyfriend’s father. Almost Shakespearean in some ways.”

  That landed like a gut punch and for a moment I thought I might lose the burger.

  John loved Shakespeare. He’d studied literature extensively and always loved a good book. He tried to pass on his passion to me. Sometimes I got it and sometimes I didn’t. He considered it a success when he got me to appreciate—and even admit to liking—Ragtime last year, which I’d struggled with as one of my American lit assignments.

  I wiped my mouth and tried to take some calming breaths. Hopefully I hid the pangs of sadness.

  “Two families against each other,” Westside continued, looking pleased with himself. “Nonetheless, this isn’t going to be a monologue. While I don’t think you could prevent any part of the plan, there’s no need to give you time to think more about it. You might as well finish dinner, and then you can get a good night’s sleep.”

  Dammit. I really wanted the movie-like reveal.

  “What have you done with Eddie? You can’t be happy he chose me in the long run.”

  “Did he?” Westside smirked.

  Based on how he was taken out of the room it seemed obvious that he had chosen. Or did I see what I wanted to? Of course, it could be a tactic too, just like what he told me about Mom.

  I ate the rest of the food, even though I rapidly lost my appetite.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I LAY on the bed, hoping to get some rest. That burger had landed in my stomach like a brick. Had I picked the wrong plate? />
  The conversation with Westside replayed on a loop in my brain as I desperately looked for clues. Override meant nothing to me. If TOS knew of that project, the info hadn’t made it to me. The more I considered dinner, it seemed he delighted in toying with me, maybe beating me down a little. Could I believe anything he said?

  I thought myself into a headache—my right temple throbbing.

  Westside talked like he needed me. Surely, he wouldn’t take me out with food.

  Without my watch I had no idea how long it had been since dinner. I figured it’d been two or three hours.

  The bolt on the door clicked.

  I looked over, but the door didn’t open.

  I counted to sixty and nothing happened.

  Slowly I crossed the room. While I might be on camera, I couldn’t pass up the chance to do some reconnaissance.

  I slipped into the hallway and closed the door behind me. If there was an alarm system and the lock reengaged, the door needed to be closed. If I got caught, so be it.

  The guard had taser leads sticking out of his chest that left him unconscious on the floor. I’d heard nothing from inside the room. I flicked the contacts over to heat and the other cell was empty, no sign of the other person from earlier. Had all the locks opened? Could Eddie have been put down here?

  “Theo.” I looked to the end of the hall, and Eddie peeked out from the stairwell door. I ran for the door, and he opened it farther so I could slip into the low-light space. We ended up pressed together, and I wished my body wouldn’t react to his proximity. I didn’t need the rush of feelings—this wasn’t the time to deal with any of that.

  Westside’s question reverberated through my head too.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, putting a bit of distance between us.

  “We need to get out of here and put a stop to what’s happening.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?” Frustration filled my voice. “Do you even know what Override is?”