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No one makes a move to intercept us. Not even Juno and Caitlin—but they know better. My chest aches at the mute concern on their pale faces, and then I see Juno lean in toward Caitlin, whisper something, and they both back away, leaving the room by another exit.

The agent marches me briskly right out the front entrance, where the photographers are still waiting.

I keep my chin up in the face of a thousand flashbulbs, refusing to show weakness.

Let them do their worst.

Just before we reach the armored van—did the FBI imagine I might make some daring escape, I wonder?—I glimpse a familiar figure across the street, half swathed in shadow.

No. It can’t be her. I’m imagining things.

Oh, but itisher.

Natalie.

She stands stiffly upright, her hair pulled back in a ponytail and her mouth hanging open. As our eyes meet, her hands fly up across her mouth, as though—as though she’s shocked.

Something cracks inside and I stumble, forgetting how to breathe. The agent’s grip tightens, yanking me back into motion. The contact jolts me back to the present, the heavy doors looming ahead now. Natalie’s face stays seared into my mind as he pushes me into the custody van.

But she doesn’t move from her pool of shadow across the street, doesn’t call out or intervene. Just watches them shove me into the van.

Of course. Did I expect anything else? No matter the secrets we shared, when it came down to it, her loyalties never wavered.

I was a fool to fall for her.

A fool to believe she cared about me.

I don’t need her. I have myself, cold and steady. I drop my head, hiding my face with a curtain of hair.

Let this be the end. Of her, of the pathetic ache in my chest.

She’s dead to me.

CHAPTER28

NATALIE

I can barely breathe as I watch Alessa being led away in handcuffs, her emerald eyes flashing with defiance. They land on me, and the sounds around me fade to a dull hum, everything narrowed down to this singular, horrifying moment.

I throw my hands over my mouth, instinctive, to stop the scream of protest that’s about to burst out of me.

And then Alessa tosses her hair, turning away in a silent, pointedFuck you.

Standing right beside me is Sam Wright, grinning like a fool, thoroughly enjoying the scene unfolding before us. I’m shaking, though I’m not sure if it’s from fury or despair.

“Why did you bring me here?” I ask him, my voice trembling despite my effort to steady it.

He picked me up like we planned, and then—to my irritation—wanted to drive into Manhattan. He said he had an errand to run there, so we might as well get our drinks in the city.

I had no idea, until he parked here, what was going on.

Until I saw Alessa de Luca getting dragged out of her own charity event and pushed into an FBI custody van.

He turns to look at me, eyebrows raised in surprise. “I thought you’d appreciate the surprise. I know Bell’s been keeping you out of the loop, but I wanted you to see the fruits of all your hard work.”

My lips tighten in disgust.

Is that all this is to him? Some game we’ve won? Has he no concept of the emotional toll this operation took on me?