Page 41 of Victorious

Unsurprising.

She and Stell had supposedly been close. Not romantically entwined. No, that would have been easy to sweep under the rug. Their entanglement was worse. Helena had been equal parts exasperated and annoyed to learn that her predecessor had a side project. One that most definitely had not been cleared by the board.

“It’s remarkable,” she said, studying Rios.

The field agent’s gaze flicked closer, stopping somewhere beneath her chin. “Director?”

“It’s just, you get so used to seeing EOs from inside their cells. Uniformed. Imprisoned. You start to convince yourself that you’d be able to spot one, even in the wild. That their power alone would make them stand out. But here you are, and if I didn’t know, I never would have guessed.”

Rios stiffened visibly, but said nothing.

“An EO,” said Helena, drawing out the two sounds, “posing as an EON agent.”

Rios’s jaw ticked. “Serving.”

“Excuse me?”

“‘Posing’ indicates a ruse,” said Rios, dark eyes flicking up. “I’ve been loyal since Stell assigned me. He believed—”

“He believed that EOs could assist in his mission,” Helena cut in. “Fight fire with fire, so to speak, use their powers to help capture and contain dangerous criminals. And he died because of it. I will not make the same mistake.”

As Helena spoke, her finger hovered beside a small red button on the underside of her desk. One touch, and the building would lock down. The office, too. The walls and floors would be shot through with a current that would prevent an EO—even one with Rios’s ability—from breaking through. Breaking out.

Helena hoped it wouldn’t be necessary.

But best to be prepared.

“Are you the only one?”

She watched the moment Rios considered lying. And the moment she assumed—correctly—that Helena already knew the truth. “No. There’s another field agent. Noah Harris.”

Helena let her hand drift from the button and laced her fingers on the desk.

“Agent Rios, as far as I’m concerned, you and Harris are ghosts. Remnants of a dead man’s whim, one I am choosing to honor. But understand, Stell began his pet project without board oversight, and without board approval. As his replacement, I have no intention of expanding his effort. No intention of rehabilitating and releasing more EOs into the field. Stell’s project will die with you. Knowing that,” she concluded, spreading her hands, “will you serve me as you served him?”

For the first and only time, Rios met her gaze. “I serve EON,” she said firmly.

Helena pursed her lips.

Good enough, she thought, before pointing at the wall behind her.

“Then bring me Victor Vale.”

XVIINOW. THEN.MEANWHILE, IN DOWNTOWN PORTSMITH …

THE chemist’s hands were shaking.

Glass vials rattled in their rack as he bent over them, adding drops of viscous amber liquid from a thin pipette. Now and then, his gaze flicked up to the teenage boy sitting on the lab counter, scrolling on his phone, and the pale-haired man who stood against the wall, quietly blacking out a magazine.

“I can’t do this,” he’d said, when they showed up.

Victor had said nothing. But the teen had flashed an easy smile and said, “Sure you can.”

At seventeen, Xavier—Xavi—Pascal had a mop of dark curls, and the stretched-out look of a kid who’d grown too much too fast. And despite being a runaway, and an EO, he was also perpetually, almost disconcertingly, happy. Victor didn’t know the specific circumstances of his near-death, and his resulting power. He didn’t want to.

“You don’t understand,” the chemist had insisted, tapping the paper he’d been handed. “I don’t have the supplies, and even if I did. I’ve never seen this formula before. If I had a week, maybe—”

“You don’t need a week,” Victor said calmly.