Over the next couple of weeks, I find myself working closely with Alpha as we plan the mission to kill Jamison Hart and retrieve the manifest. It’s as if everything is back to normal, including the two of us being on a no-touching, no-hug basis. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about my partner, even if there isn’t any sign that what happened in the safe house will ever be possible again. Instead I’ve found myself dreaming about August on a nightly basis, waking only to find myself on the verge of crying because he isn’t lying next to me.

When the day of the wedding arrives, I gaze into the full-length mirror in my closet, checking my appearance one last time. I have to act like I’m still trying to impress Jamison Hart, so I’m wearing yet another strapless dress. This one is flowing and formal, a pale rose that matches the faded highlights in my hair and conceals a bulletproof corset underneath. I definitely can’t wear sneakers to someone else’s wedding, so I’m in off-white heels instead, which at least are a reasonable height that still allow me to run if necessary. As for my hair, I’ve pinned it up in an elegant hairdo with antique silver hairpins, making sure my makeup looks professionally done as well.

I make a face at myself in the mirror, even though I look exactly as I should. Nothing is out of place. Even the stray hairs around my face are strategically placed to make me seem as casual and accessible as possible while still remaining a catch. But I don’t feel the way I look. I don’t feel like this person standing in front of me, this impeccable rebel who’d never give a second thought to a man in her life who wasn’t throwing himself at her. All I’ve been able to think about is my partner, though I’ve done my best to think about my target instead.

For the first time in my life, even though all I’ve ever done is wear fake identities, I feel like a fraud.

Just get the manifest, Eliza, I tell myself. Then you’ll never have to see him again.

I’m not sure whether him refers to Jamie or Reese.

The plan, as far as Jamison Hart knows, is for us to fly on a private jet to Paris, where we’ll be chauffeured to Damien Fabre’s wedding. After the reception, we’ll stay in a five-star hotel for a few days before returning home.

In reality, the private jet won’t be so private. After almost being shot to death on a rogue mission, I’m not about to go into this blind. I’ll be wearing a bug so Alpha can hear everything that happens, and he’ll be covering me at the wedding from a vantage point on a nearby rooftop. I’ll excuse myself before midnight for the meeting with Romeo, then sneak back into the reception afterward and find a way to get the manifest from Jamie by the end of the trip.

But everything suddenly feels more real, the stakes higher than I ever expected. It’s going to take all I have to make it through the next few days. I’m the only one who can search for the manifest, but part of me just wants to be back in the safe house where August read to me from a comic book. If I fail this mission, someone could easily die.

And it very well might be me.

So far, I’ve mainly been concerned about Juliet. When I woke on the morning after Kilo’s death, she was already gone. According to Agent Novenine, my roommate is on a mission abroad, but the timing is way too convenient. I’m worried that she’s in solitary confinement, or maybe on the verge of retirement.

But I’d like to believe she’s finally left the Executive, just like she always wanted.

Outside the dorms, Alpha is waiting for me in his chauffeur’s uniform, his cap tilted at an angle on his head, almost jauntily. He gazes at me for a moment, then swallows hard and straightens his back as I walk up to him.

“Ready?” he asks me.

“Ready,” I say, but my heart is beating like crazy.

If August senses anything, he doesn’t let on. The silence between us doesn’t feel uncomfortable, though my mind wants to believe there’s a certain tension that might indicate something else. This feels like the calm before the storm, the kind of afternoon with clear skies in which we used to stop to get ice cream as teenagers before starting a mission. We felt like such rebels, back then. But this time there won’t be any ice cream, and those cloudless days are long gone.

In the parking garage, August holds open a door of the limousine for me before getting behind the steering wheel. It suddenly feels strange to be separated from him like this. I’ve never liked being on a mission where I have to treat Alpha as anything other than my partner, and now it feels actively wrong for him not to be sitting next to me. But even when I catch his gaze in the rearview mirror, he remains expressionless, as if simply making sure I’m still here.

If only I could be back on the motorcycle, my arm wrapped around his waist, his jacket draped around me, I’d do it all over again. Even with a bullet in my side.

When we reach the airport, Alpha puts the limousine into park without saying anything. He’ll follow me to Paris on a separate flight, and he’ll be able to hear what I’m saying through the bug attached to my corset, but we won’t be interacting again unless it’s via the compact mirror in my overnight bag. I nervously tuck my hair behind my ear as he comes around to open my door. What if he says something again? Even worse, what if he doesn’t say anything at all?

As I step out of the limousine, I can’t help myself. A single word slips out.

“August—”

He glances at me, obviously startled to hear his real name. But he seems to understand what I’m feeling, the worry behind my eyes mirroring his. After only a slight hesitation, he rests his hand against my side where the bullet went into me, the heat from his fingers spreading throughout my entire body in an instant.

He doesn’t need to say anything. His acknowledgment and reminder of what happened between us means we are in this together and this, finally, is the support before a mission I’ve always wanted. Everything that happened between us in the safe house really did happen. August knows me, and he will always be there to anchor me, even when I feel as if I’m drowning in another fake identity.

A voice calls out to me. “Lily!”

I spin around to see Jamison Hart leaning against a pillar. I don’t know how long he’s been standing there, watching me arrive in the limousine. He’s wearing a dark gray tuxedo and a blood-red tie, and his golden hair has been carefully styled. How much did he see between me and August just now?

I force myself to smile as Jamie strides over and hands a ten-dollar bill to Alpha without even looking at him. He tosses my overnight bag to his own valet, then takes my arm and leads me into the airport.

“So how’ve you been?” he asks enthusiastically, as if it’s been years since we’ve seen each other.

“Pretty good,” I say. “You?”

“Oh, you know,” he says. “Still under mild scrutiny by the police, but the air of danger seems to give me a certain flair.”

I laugh politely, but I’m barely paying attention to what he’s saying. Our lighthearted conversation continues as we pass through the airport and board a private jet chartered by his family. It’s by far the fanciest one I’ve ever been on, with white leather recliners, a widescreen television showing the latest superhero movie, a minibar fully stocked with at least twenty different types of alcohol, and a couple of martinis already mixed and set out on a table.

“For the lady,” says Jamie, handing me one of the martinis with a flourish.

“Why, thank you,” I say, still smiling. At least I don’t have to worry about being poisoned.

We clink our glasses together and take a sip, each of us maintaining eye contact with the other. I can still feel the chemistry there between us, but it’s no longer the overwhelming force driving me forward. This is nothing compared to what I felt in the shower with August, after all. And I have more pressing concerns at the moment, like where the manifest is and why Reese wants to talk to me.

And, more importantly, when I’ll see my partner again.

“Earth to Lily,” says Jamie, pausing after a while. “What’s with you today?”

I haven’t exactly been trying to seem interested, and I’ve only been doing a minimal amount of flirting and bantering. It’s as if my brain is on autopilot so I can daydream about August instead. This is why he was assigned to be my partner when we were children. When left to my own impulses, I go into a freefall, spun about by a hurricane made of my own emotions. I can’t focus on anything else. Who knows where I’ll end up?

“Sorry,” I say, flushing slightly. “I’m just a little distracted.”

Jamie grins. “By what happened inside the treehouse?”

I lower my eyelashes demurely, as if embarrassed but also thrilled by the memory of his kiss. “Maybe.”

But in the ensuing silence, I suddenly realize something’s wrong. I can sense it there, lurking beneath the surface of whatever conversation we’ve been having. He’s been aware of it the entire time, but I’m only just now accommodating for it. Not only have I been acting like a pale imitation of Lily Bass, but I’ve also been failing to notice that he wants something from me which isn’t physical at all.

It’s too late to avoid whatever trap he’s been steering me toward.

“No, I don’t think so.” Jamie leans forward intently, a shift in his tone indicating that he has no intention of letting me escape this one. “I think you’re distracted by what happened outside the treehouse.”

Oh, no. He’s going to mention the dead butler, and the fire in the forest, and the fact that I disappeared again after yet another person died on his estate. This is him testing me, pushing against my boundaries, trying to figure out what I know.

But what does he know?

“What are you talking about?” I ask casually, as if I’m not freaking out internally right now.

“Oh, don’t play coy,” he says, reaching out and gripping my wrist. His blue eyes are practically twinkling. “I know you’re trying to kill me. What I want to know is how and why. Is your name even Lily Bass?”