31. A Crack in the Heart

Sydney woke up to an argument and a searing light.

"This isn't a question, Mr. Bourton."

"I didn't answer it as a question," Tems snapped. Sydney could hear the clipped anger in his voice, a sound she recognized all too well. The loudness of the voices made her wince.

"Does Panacea know she's here?"

"You checked her for trackers yourself."

The light was fluorescent, that much Sydney could tell. She squinted as her eyes fluttered open, then shut again. She tried to lift a hand to block the light, but something weighed her wrists down. Vaguely, she realized that she was tied down in a chair, and her mouth felt like it'd been stuffed with cotton.

It made her want to gag. The nausea that made her stomach lurch shook her fully awake, and her eyes shot open again—to reveal the rest of the interrogation room at the police station.

The three men sitting at the far table stopped talking to look at her. Beside them stood Tems with his back turned to her, his hands in his pockets. He broke from his argument too at the sound of her stirring, then glanced at her over his shoulder. The scowl on his face shifted and softened as he turned to walk toward her.

"What do you remember?" he asked her first.

Sydney knew why he posed this question. He must have injected her with benzodiazepine, which—in addition to being a powerful tranquilizer—had the tendency to interfere with memory. She shook her head and regretted the motion immediately as her head exploded with agony, the migraine blooming from the back of her head to the front until it felt like her entire brain had been struck with a hammer.

"Oh my god," she whispered. Her lips cracked as she spoke.

Tems knelt down and looked up at her. "What do you remember?" he asked again firmly.

Sydney glared at him. "I remember you stabbing me with a goddamn needle. Didn't think you were a literal prick."

At that, Tems gave her a humorless smile. "Then I guess we all learned something today," he replied. "Glad you're okay. I was afraid I used too much."

Sydney didn't answer. Her eyes went to the other agents and committed every detail of their faces to memory. She didn't recognize two of them—but the third, she knew. Her attacker from the airport.

Now the agent met her stare and pulled out his gun with a sigh. Every muscle in Sydney tensed.

Tems shook his head without looking away from Sydney. "Put it away," he said coldly, addressing the agent with the gun. "I told you. You're not shooting her."

"What is Panacea going to do about it?" the man said without emotion.

"I'm going to shoot you back," Tems replied simply, pulling out his own weapon and resting his arm idly against his knee.

"She knows," another agent said.

"We can work something out," Tems said. He nodded at Sydney. "Won't we?"

Don't say a word,Sydney thought. There were no friends in this room with her—any word she uttered could be used against her, against Panacea, against Winter.

Against Winter.

She noticed that, so far, Tems hadn't mentioned him yet. Maybe the other agents didn't know she had a partner. Maybe Tems didn't think he was capable enough to come here with her—after all, even she had tried forcing him to stay back. Maybe Winter had managed to escape and had returned to the plane.

She also noticed the tenuousness of Tems's relationship with these other men. They'd definitely had arguments before. She filed the bit of knowledge away.

"Well, Syd," Tems said to her. "What do we do now?"

Sydney didn't move. Didn't even blink.

Tems sighed when she remained still and silent. "There's not a very good reason for us to keep you alive," he said. "You know this. So I want you to think very hard about how cooperative you want to be, and whether or not you want to go home."

"Do you want to go home?" Sydney asked him.

Tems smiled. "Turning everything back around into your own questions, huh?" He laughed a little. "Panacea's training really does run deep in us."

"Are you really a Panacea agent?"

He shrugged. "As much as you," he replied. "I just happened to have been recruited first by this faction in the CIA."

This faction.Tems had revealed two things to her: one, that he'd worked for the CIA before he ever even stepped foot inside Panacea's headquarters, and two, that the CIA he was working for was a rogue cell.

In a flash, Sydney thought of the Orange Alerts that had gone off at Panacea last year, of Sauda and Niall's whispers and frustrations.

"You've been a double agent since the beginning?" she said through clenched teeth.

He nodded.

She pictured them both at the graduation ceremony, saw herself laughing at his joke about marrying their work.

It's all part of this job, isn't it?

"Why did you kill Niall?" she said hoarsely.

He narrowed his eyes at her, and for a second, she saw pain in his gaze. "Do you think," he said, "that Panacea's hands are clean? Do you think my friend would have died that night in Stockholm, had Niall not meddled in our affairs?"

Sydney swallowed hard. What happened in Stockholm had run deeper than she'd guessed, had involved Niall and some conflict between him and Tems.

"Revenge, then?" she managed to say.

"Let's call it karma," Tems snapped. "He deserved it."

"Why?" she snapped back.

"If you don't want her dead," the eldest man interrupted, "then what do you want to do with her?"

Tems stood up, crossed his arms, and regarded her. "I think we can help each other out. I could use a recorded conversation from you that corroborates our story about how everything went down. Can you do that, Syd?"

Sydney wanted to laugh in his face, wanted to scream at him. But she just nodded.

Tems smiled carefully at her, even though she could tell that he didn't believe her. "Very good," he replied. "I think it would be in the best interest of your partner, too."

She realized in a flash that he was doing this for her sake, that he wanted her to answer like this so that the other agents might consider sparing her. Was he trying to warn her that the rogue cell had captured Winter outside? Was his life at stake?

What was going on in Tems's head? They had been trained in the exact same tactics, had done the same exercises and suffered through the same techniques. But Sydney had not been trained to confront a fellow Panacea agent. How the hell was she going to get him to talk? How was she going to get herself out of here?

She needed to talk directly to him, in private, alone. So Sydney looked hesitantly at the other agents, then back at Tems.

"What kind of recorded statement?" she said, loud enough for all of them to hear.

"You need a script?" Tems said.

"You want me to sound believable?" she answered, her lips curling into a snarl. "Then let's talk it out, just you and me, with none of these other shits in the room."

"You're not in a position to bargain, Jackal."

"And yet here you are, asking me for a favor."

Tems glanced over his shoulder at the other agents before nodding at them. "Give us a minute," he replied.

The agent who had been Sydney's attacker shook his head. "No. You're not getting private time."

Sydney watched quietly, noting their dynamic.

"I seem to remember that there was one person vital to the success of this mission," Tems snapped. "And that person is crouched here right now. Give us a minute. Or you may not get the war you wanted, after all."

The man looked ready to argue back, but one of the other agents leaned over to him and exchanged a few quiet words that Sydney couldn't pick up. The two discussed it for a second. At last, just when Sydney was starting to think that they wouldn't agree, the agents rose in unison.

"Five minutes," the man said to Tems.

Tems nodded once. Sydney watched as they filed out of the room. When the door closed behind the last of them, she turned back to face Tems. There were a million things she wanted to say to him, a million insults she wanted to throw in his face. But none of that mattered right now. What mattered was completing her mission and getting herself and Winter to safety—what mattered was finding a way to get Tems back to the States under arrest and revealing the rogue cell to Panacea so that the evidence could stop the impending war. So that she could avenge Niall.

She looked at Tems and gave him a grave nod. "You don't have to go down this path," she said.

"I've been on this path since before I arrived at Panacea," Tems replied.

Sydney shook her head. "I don't understand why."

"Why I joined them?"

"Why you wanted Niall dead. What did he do to you?"

Tems looked away at the window, paused for a moment, and then turned back to her. "His name was William Olsson," he said. "No one will ever know that, or that we had been friends, or that he was killed in Stockholm because of me." His lips tightened. "Because of Niall."

Sydney searched his eyes. "What happened?"

"Niall sent me to Stockholm on a mission targeting a terrorist group stationed there. William was my informant. He risked everything to get me the information I needed. By the time you and I met up, he had already riled up the suspicions of the group we were targeting and had gone into hiding. While we were snowed in at the hotel, he was supposed to be smuggled out of the country."

"By who?"

"Niall promised me he would be safe and accounted for. He promised me they would do their best." He tightened his lips. "Then, at the last minute, the group made a move to Cairo, Egypt. Changed their plans on a dime, because they suspected someone was on to them. Niall was supposed to have sent backup to protect William that night. He didn't. So Will was caught unaware at port. They found him floating near the shore, frozen half-solid, with a dozen gunshot wounds in his body."

Sydney stayed quiet. She tried to remember whether Tems had said anything to her during their hotel stay about his friend, whether his mood had changed. But he'd simply been gone in the morning with her passport, leaving her nothing but a cryptic note.

"So you chased the group to Egypt?" she said.

"Niall ordered me stay in Stockholm, because the main cell was still there. That was my mission. But Will's killers left for Cairo." He narrowed his eyes. "So I went after them."

"Niall wanted you to stay so that they could take down the group, once and for all."

"If he had protected Will, like he promised, I wouldn't have had to abandon my post. If he had kept his promises, I could have kept mine."

"Yours?"

"I promised Will that he would be safe. I gave him my word. And he died."

"Tems," she said quietly, "this is the nature of our work. This is the sacrifice we make, that we're still making at this very moment."

"What's the point of our work if we can't be loyal? If we can't keep our promises?"

"Loyal? You're a double agent!"

"I worked as a double agent to ensure the stability of the world," he snapped. "I did Panacea's bidding when I thought it would benefit the most people. I worked with the rogue cell in the CIA when I thought Panacea needed to be kept in check. But I've never been responsible for the death of a good human."

"That just means you haven't had to make difficult decisions until now," she shot back. "Niall was a good human. Imperfect, but good."

"You still think the world of Niall, don't you?" He scowled at her. "Your precious father figure has clouded your judgment."

Had he? Sydney thought of Niall's grumpy exterior, the fear in his eyes whenever she was in danger out in the field, the grief in his words whenever he spoke about missing out on his daughter's life.

"He has a daughter," she went on. "You knew that, didn't you? Quinn. He was about to retire, had been looking forward to this moment for decades so that he could patch things up with her. Now he's gone, because of you."

Tems snorted in disgust. "You mean the daughter he abandoned?"

"Moral purists never stop to examine themselves, do they?" Sydney spat at him. "What makes you so great? Or do you just tear others down because it's secretly fun?"

"I follow my heart." Tems glared at her. "It's that simple."

"Niall was right," she murmured. "You're not cut out to be an agent. It's never simple. You make too many decisions without your head."

"He could have said the same thing about you, Syd. You've made your fair share of rash, emotional decisions." His lips twisted in disgust. "But Niall always favored you more than me, didn't he? You always got passes."

"Is this also about envy, then?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "You resented Niall for demoting you to the Sapphire Cross after Stockholm."

"I resent unfairness. As punishment for honoring a friend's death, I was shipped overseas."

"You didn't honor Will's death. You wasted it. You didn't take down the cell that murdered him. You cut off a finger and left the head."

"I did what I felt everyone deserved," he snapped, then rose to his feet.

Sydney glared at him. "You think Niall deserved death for punishing you?"

He sighed. "Believe what you want, Sydney."

"You don't understand what it means to be an agent, Tems."

He spread his arms. "Don't you ever wonder why you have to give up everything for an agency that doesn't give a shit about you? Do you think Panacea won't sacrifice you someday, when everything comes down to it?"

"We took an oath. That means something to me."

"And you think Panacea always does right by the world?"

"I think they try!" she snapped, teeth clenched. "I think that's all we can ever do!"

"Then maybe they need to try harder," Tems said coldly.

Sydney studied him warily. "You were going to leave the country the instant we arrived back in the States, weren't you? Or maybe you were never planning on getting on board that plane. You were going to abandon me. Just like before."

She finally seemed to hit a nerve at that, because he flinched. He looked at the window to disguise it, then sneered at her. "And you think your famous boy won't leave you behind? Think Winter's going to make you happy?"

Winter.The sound of his name on Tems's lips sent a jolt of rage through her. "I think you shouldn't speak about things you don't understand," she answered. "Or did you not pay attention during that class either?"

He started to rise. "I think we're done here," he said.

"I have one more question for you," she said. "Why do you really want me alive?"

"My beef was with Niall." He fixed his gaze on her. "Not you."

And here, Sydney noticed his expression shift subtly. Past the sneer, past the glare, she could see something that looked like regret. Like he wished there was some other way they could part.

Tems wanted her alive because he didn't want her to die. It was as simple as that.

He scowled and looked away. "Sauda shouldn't have sent you," he muttered under his breath.

It was exactly what he'd said to her on the day she'd first seen him in Winter's hotel suite.

"It's not too late, Tems," she said, her voice soft and quiet now. "Come back with me. Turn yourself in, and wipe your conscience clean."

He laughed dryly. "And go to jail for Niall's sake?"

"You can still help me stop this war. You know this isn't right." She leaned forward in her chair until her restraints made it too painful. "You know."

"I know we're done here," he said. "Go on record saying that you were cooperating with us the entire time, that we tried our best to stop the attack on Rosen. That we have no choice but to declare war." He turned his back on her. "Make it easy for yourself… and for Winter. Buy yourself some time while I figure out whether it's worth it to keep you alive. Otherwise, I can't do much to protect either of you."

Sydney swallowed her frustration as he went back to the door and opened it. He exchanged some muffled words with those in the hall. As he did, she gingerly twisted her bound hands. Duct tape. She looked around before her eyes settled back on Tems's figure at the door, his hands in his pockets.

Nothing she could use.

The others filed back inside, their eyes flickering suspiciously to her. They didn't sit back down. Instead, they stayed standing by the table as one of them walked over to her. It was the one who had been unhappy with Tems for wanting a private chat.

"You talked sense into her?" he asked Tems.

Tems looked at Sydney. "Ask her yourself," he replied.

The man turned to her. She met his gaze without flinching. Secretly, she gauged her distance from Tems.

"Let's get that statement, then," he told her, pulling out his phone.

Tems had told her to nod along. To go on record vouching for them.

But she had already noted the shaky trust holding Tems and this rogue cell together. Time to take advantage of it.

So Sydney took a deep breath, put her life on the gambling table, and said, "I'll make sure all of you are court marshaled," she said, a snarl rumbling behind her words. "You'll be in jail within a week."

Tems looked sharply at her. The man blinked at her words, then shook his head with a dry laugh.

"Apologies, Mr. Bourton," the man said, taking a step toward her. He pulled a gun out of his jacket pocket.

Panic, rage, and desperation flickered across Tems's face. It was there and gone in the blink of an eye—she had gotten to him, had surprised him. He looked back at the man approaching with the gun, then back at her, then at the man again. His body tensed like a spring.

Sydney gritted her teeth as the man pointed the gun right at her head. She had been in situations like this too many times, but each time, scenes still flashed through her mind—her as a child, joining Panacea, her mother, her home. And this time, Winter.

Come on, Tems, she thought frantically. Take the bait. All she needed was to create some chaos, crack the shaky alliance within this group.

"Wait," Tems called out. He lunged toward the man, his hand knocking the man's wrist down before he could fire.

The man gave him a look of indignant surprise. "What the hell?" he grunted.

"A traitor," another snarled.

For once, Tems hesitated. In that space of a second, Sydney heard everything that he was—that in spite of everything, in spite of being a traitor and a killer and a liar… he still couldn't bear to watch her die.

The radio spared him from replying. Because in that instant, the static that blared to life on their radios made everyone startle.

"What?" one of the agents said as he picked up the phone.

The answer came in Malay. Through the voice and the static, Sydney could hear a commotion in the background.

"—to get to Jalan Cheras and Ninety-Three, there's a massive crowd—"

"What's going on?"

"—need backup! It's that singer, Winter Young—his car broke down here—"

Winter Young, causing the distraction of a lifetime. Sydney had never been so happy to hear his name in her life.

It was a span of seconds—all the agents' attention turned momentarily away from her and toward the radio. Of Tems looking away.

Seconds was all Sydney needed.

With a single lunge, she kicked against the floor and threw herself straight at the gunman.