Page 87 of Hunted

The strangest urge to pluck a lock off the floor and keep it flooded me, but I resisted, shaking it off like an errant mosquito.

Addie winced. “Dare I ask what resets means?”

My face twisted into a mirrored expression. Nobody liked resets. Least of all me.

“Why don’t I let Marie explain it?”

She sighed, reaching for the shiny gold door handle and holding it open for me to duck through first.

Ugh, no—that’s my job. Her action offended me so badly that I actually scoffed, grabbed the door above her head, and motioned for her to exit. I refused to budge until she let go—and she only did so after Gina laughed—after a solid minute of us exchanging increasingly annoyed expressions.

G’s deep-throated cackle cut through the tension like a warm knife through butter. “A word of advice, Agent Sinclair?” she offered with a grin. “If that one is willingly being helpful, you’d do well to let him—otherwise he can make himself very irksome indeed.”

Still glaring at me, Addie’s pleasant tone was unpleasantly at odds with her expression. “Believe me, Gina, I am well acquainted with that fact already.”

Before I had a chance to even act offended, my mind saved me the trouble by flashing an image of an ice-and-water-filled bucket.

I bit my lip. Point taken.

“Thanks for your time, Gina. I hope I’ll get to see you again sometime,” Addie called before dashing out the door and rounding to the right.

“Sooner than you think, child,” G replied, too softly for Addie to hear, but pointed enough for me to. “Look after that one, Beck. She’s got exactly the right amount of spirit to do well, or land herself in a whole host of trouble.”

My lips flattened in a line. “I’m well aware of that fact, too. Take care of yourself, G.”

“You too, Beck.”

I followed Addie out into the hallway and closed the salon door softly behind me. She knocked on the door right next to Gina’s, the one with a metallic silver number four glued onto it. Before she’d even had a chance to get to the third rap, the door swung inwards and a tall, thin woman with greying hair beckoned us in.

“You’re late,” Marie barked, snicking the door shut. “I hate when I get Gina’s clients. They’re always late.” She then passed a thin white blanket to Addie, nodded at the aesthetician bed behind her, and snapped the pristine clinician’s curtain closed around her. “Remove all clothes and jewellery, place them on the table by the wall, then lie down belly up on the bed, covering everything except your face.”

“Um, what for?” Addie’s confusion prickled my skin. But I could hear the sound of shifting fabric anyway, telling me she would follow Academy orders no matter what it cost her.

Good. That was good. That could keep her alive.

Marie scoffed. “Are you telling me that no one informed you what this appointment would entail?” She punctuated her question with a sharp glare aimed at my head, jagged enough to inflict pain. “This is a reset, as in factory reset, meaning your body is going to be stripped of any unwanted marring—be they hair, scar, mole, freckle, or birthmark.”

“Except for this little tattoo, right?” She sighed through the curtain. “You can come in now. I’m ready.”

Marie nodded, looking impressed for the first time I’d known her. “Let’s get started then. Agent Beckett, you can stand there and look pretty all you like, or you can wait in the hall.”

“Sorry, Marie, it’s gonna be looking pretty. Varco gave us strict orders not to let her out of our sight for the duration of Swallow Season.”

As in, until Addie had undergone every element of bodily preparation and completed every extra lesson in seduction and sexual subterfuge. Unfortunately, we were just getting started.

Marie harrumphed, then ducked behind the curtain.

I hated doing it, but I cracked it open just an inch—just enough to see an anxious sliver of Addie’s face, unobstructed by the blanket.

Marie wasted no time. She systematically waxed every stray hair across Addie’s face, ignoring the flickers of pain crossing it in waves. Then lifted a small electronic device emblazoned with the AevumTech logo to Addie’s button nose, readying to steal every freckle that adorned it.

Something panged beneath my sternum.

“Leave them,” I ordered.

“You know I can’t,” Marie replied, no-nonsense.

“I’ll deal with the administrative fallout. Tell them the machine is broken.”