Chapter 14

I wake up just past six a.m. after my usual five hours of sleep, feeling refreshed and ready to kick some ass. I guess without the surprise trauma and orgasms, my body doesn’t crash as hard. Or maybe my body fuels itself on opportunities to work.

As my first item of business, I make a post on all my social media accounts telling people that I’m alright. Hopefully, this will eliminate the need to respond to so many people who care about me later on. Thus, avoiding wasting precious time.

Annoyingly, I see that I’ve already got a few messages from Beth, our office manager. They’re the same as yesterday. She basically says that she knows I sneak into the office in the middle of the night and wants to make sure I’m alright.

Ugh.

I text her a thumbs up and carry on.

For a second, I have a twinge of regret that I didn’t crumple up her list of ‘fun’ office ideas, but then I remember that it’s in a collapsed, possibly radioactive building. Still, if anyone would be able to recover the list, it’d be Beth.

If this really is a time loop, I make a mental note to destroy the list tonight. Just in case. There’s no way I’m participating in Pen Pal to the Partners.

Yesterday I made the critical mistake of not dressing for the opportunity to work. It’s a mistake I don’t repeat. After my shower, I take pains to do my hair and dress in my most powerful power suit. Yes, it has shoulder pads. No, they don’t look (very) tacky. I put my hair up into a tight chignon and wing my eyeliner into deadly, but professional points. I top it all off with red lipstick that I refuse to acknowledge is the same shade as Grant’s spandex suit.

This time, when I get to the building site, I’m in my battle gear.

I head straight for the same police officer as yesterday. Since he had information about the fact that this was called in, I have to assume that he’s a part of the team, or at least adjacently informed. Either one means that he’s high enough to know at least a little bit about what I’m after.

I sidestep the increasing media with relative ease—it’s not yet become the circus that it will—walk past the cop to the other side of the barrier and gesture for him to join me. He does.

Reaching into my cross-body bag, I pull out a writing tablet.

“I need some information verified,” I say coolly, not bothering to look at him.

Instead, I look at the scene. It’s earlier than before, which means Dominic and the tall man haven’t arrived yet.

But they will.

“Of course.”

“I’ve just got confirmation that you know who from Hart Link Incorporated is on his way. He’s been told to forgo a hazmat suit, so can I please get verification that stage 1 and 2 testing have been complete?”

I’m taking a leap with this. When I saw him yesterday/today, he was pretty far away. There’s every chance that he’s not actually the tall, scarred man from the photo.

And by nearly positive, I mean it’s an acceptable guess. No risk, no reward. Especially in a maybe time loop.

He shifts. “Yes?” He says it like a question. Clearly, he still doesn’t trust me.

Smart guy.

I sigh, nodding. “Thank god this bunch can follow basic protocol,” I say, giving him a look like we’ve both done this a hundred times. It’s the same look you give the person in the car with you when you verify the takeout order at the window.

“Yeah,” he says with a faint awkward huff. He looks around nervously. “Can I see some i—”

I cut him off. “Would you happen to know if stage 2 came out as radiation not present or not harmful? I told the tall guy I’d let him know as soon as I find out.” I try to say the ‘tall guy’ in the same way my coworkers call me ‘the robot’ when they think I’m not around. Like, he’s someone I don’t particularly care for at work, and not someone who’s name I don’t know.

“I don’t have all the details, but I did get a bit of an update when I got new orders about adjusting the barricade. Radiation was confirmed, just not a type that’s known.”

“Known to be harmful?” I clarify.

“Known at all.” The cop shrugs. Then, his brow furrows. “Why are you asking me—”

I cut him off again. “Now, I have been getting contradicting reports. Did the first shake occur at 12:21 or 12:22?”

My personal credo is to maintain power by always being the person asking the questions. If you’re the one answering questions, you’ve already lost.

“12:21,” he answers quickly.

Good.

I jot that down. Twenty-one minutes after the reset. Why twenty-one minutes?

“One last thing—he’ll want an update on how the equipment worked when he gets here. Can I confirm that Hart’s new detectors were superior to our standard issue one?” I ask, holding my breath slightly.

This is the biggest leap I’m taking. I have absolutely no proof that Hart technology was used here. It’s just that our standard equipment shouldn’t be able to detect new kinds of radiation. That’s currently impossible.

Or at least, it should be currently impossible.

“Yes. Tell him they were much more manageable. Even in simulations, I’ve never been a part of a team that was able to conduct all the tests that quickly—and I’ve been part of the emergency response team since nearly my rookie year. We still double checked it all as best we could with our own, but it wasn’t nearly as good. He’s a real genius, that Zagreus Hart.”

I nod, even though I’m screaming inside. This is my smoking gun. Someone mysteriously calls in radiation and then Hart’s people provide the technology to detect it. That quickly?

While there’s no way any of this would hold up in court, it’s enough to confirm my suspicions. Hart Link Incorporated is behind this. There’s too much coincidence for me not to consider it connected. Their employee just so happens to be in the vicinity right as the demolishment begins. One of the firms in the building they just destroyed just so happens to be investigating them. An employee (a scary-looking one, I might add) shows up the next day and gets a front-row seat to the action. They’re the ones who call in the radiation.

If it walks like an evil corporation and talks like an evil corporation, I’m going to call it for what it is: Zagreus Fucking Hart.

Which means I really can’t trust Grant. He works for Zagreus Hart who is moving from allegedly evil to certainly evil pretty damn quickly.

My heart breaks a little at the thought. At least, until another thought comes around: no one has a clue what Zagreus Hart looks like.

He could be anyone.