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Harrison’s bullshit shouldn’t unsettle me as much as it does. All of it will likely come to nothing. Secretary Thompson is a reasonable person, everything the Bureau’s been working on has been well above-board, and the small, annoying voice of doubt in the back of my mind is likely no more than my own inner turmoil creeping into the reality of the situation.

Still… I can’t deny that I’ve been doubting my instincts these last few months. Since before I met Kenna, maybe even since before all the ugliness with Sorenson last fall, those threads of doubt have been fraying around the edges of the certainty I used to feel about my place and purpose here. Cleo can sense it, too. In the hesitation I’ve shown, in my tendency to hedge where I’ve always been decisive.

Maybe it’s the never-ending politics of the role, or the fact that after twenty-five years of building and five years of leading, it’s hard to see the forest for the trees. I’ve been so close to the Bureau for so many years that it’s damned near impossible to have any kind of objective perspective anymore.

With an irritated sigh, I return to my desk and find that it’s already past the end of business hours.

Flipping on my computer, my hand twitches on the mouse in a split-second of reason before I make a monumentally stupid decision. Opening up the company chat software, I enter a name into the search bar, and it only takes a moment to find what I’m looking for.

A little green checkmark next to a name that makes my heart clench.

Again acting before I can think better of it, I type out a message.

And then I wait.

Another check mark appears, letting me know that she’s seen it, followed by three bouncing dots as she types her reply. When it comes through a second later, the weight that’s been sitting on my chest loosens for the first time all day.

31

Kenna

Standing on the top level of the parking garage next to the Bureau, I try not to think about how stupid this is.

It’s barely after five, it’s still full daylight out, and although there aren’t a lot of cars parked up here on a Friday afternoon, that doesn’t mean someone couldn’t drive up at any point and catch us.

Still… it only took a couple of seconds after getting Ewan’s message to agree to meet him up here.

Just to talk. That’s all.

Since he dropped me off on Sunday and then went radio-silent, I’ve been feeling less and less generous about giving him the benefit of the doubt. After days without hearing from him, part of me is starting to feel like it might be best if he really is coming up here to end it. At least then I’d have some closure.

Even if the thought of that makes my stomach roil, it would still be better than all of this uncertainty.

I’m still brooding and mulling it all over when the sound of approaching footsteps catches my attention. Assuming it’s Ewan, I don’t bother turning around and open my mouth to ask him what we’re doing here, when an unfamiliar voice calls out.

“Kenna Byrne?”

I turn and see a man walking toward me. Something about his tone and the knowing way he’s looking at me put me immediately on edge.

“Yeah?” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “Who’s asking?”

The man is in his fifties with a broad, athletic build and a serious expression on his face. He’s wearing an expensive gray suit and carrying a leather messenger bag over his shoulder.

“Andrew Harrison,” he says as he approaches. “HHS Deputy Secretary.”

That roiling in my stomach gets even more violent. Fuck. HHS. The guy who’s had everyone on edge this week hanging around the building and conducting closed-door interviews with his team.

“Alright,” I say, arms still crossed. “How can I help you?”

Maybe not the best way to talk to a guy who’s… what? My boss’s boss’s boss’s boss? But something about him’s still got me on edge.

“There’s something I wanted to speak with you about.”

He reaches down and pulls a folder out of his bag, opening it up and taking out a photograph.

I only have to look at it for a moment to realize what it is.

A dragon. A downtown sidewalk. My flash of red hair as Ewan carries me off.