My hand clenched as I recalled Dr. Harper’s words about my inability to ride an elevator when other options existed.
Had I developed a phobia of elevators?
Or… had Dr. Harper been right? Did I have PTSD?
The thought raised my denial. So much had happened already. I’d even lost Veseli once before. Absolutely, losing him again hurt. It hurt beyond belief, but I’d get through this.
I would.
“… are you ready?” A stern voice drifted toward me, yanking me from my thoughts after another heavy session with the sharp psychoanalyst, Dr. Harper. He had a nasty habit of knocking down walls and protections to unearth the root of my troubles. One day, I’d look back on the sessions with begrudging fondness and realize how truly therapeutic they were. However, that day was far, far in the future.
Now all I could focus on was how emotionally raw and vulnerable I felt, as if Dr. Harper had taken a machete and chopped away all the overgrowth to unearth the old crumbling ruins below in need of serious repair.
That I even entertained his outlandish assumptions seemed ludicrous.
I didn’t have PTSD.
I turned and spotted the Cardinals gathered in the hallway—all of them. They hadn’t waited for us next to Conference Room B. Instead, they’d met us halfway.
Who made that decision?
I swallowed thickly, tears pricking though I refused to let them fall. How could I stand here and cry when I’d made the choice?
Jaw clenched, I met the gaze of the Cardinal that had asked the question. Sabra Jaheem, the leader of the Cardinals, stood like a proud lion with her warm, wheat-colored eyes resting on me with infinite patience. She’d always been mature, likely from raising and mourning the deaths of multiple siblings when she herself was still a child. Sabra always came across as a hybrid of a mentor, big sister, and mother.
“I’m ready,” I stated though I doubted the validity of the claim.
Natasia stood to the side as her right-hand woman like her second-in-command status suggested. The tall Russian’s features yin-yanged with Sabra’s. Sabra had a full, dark, generous structure and a thick, well-toned body to match. She exuded power. Natasia had pale, slender features and a frosty exterior that often convinced people to call her Ice Princess.
“So it’s true, then? Yer’ goin’ through with it?” another Cardinal chimed in with her thick brogue. Darcy Gallagher mirrored Princess Merida with her wild red curls, alabaster skin dotted with freckles, and her fiery personality.
All the Cardinals mirrored movie characters. There was a reason Delta had dubbed them the Disney Princesses.
“Yeah, I am,” I answered but paused. “Am I making a mistake?”
“Sì,” Triz chimed in at the same time Darcy emphasized, “Fuckin’ right ye are.”
I hadn’t really expected such a strong response, let alone a negative one. Bewildered, I looked at Sabra and Natasia, the two leaders. Sabra kept her face neutral but supportive. Natasia showed nothing, a blank slate.
Yolo pushed herself off the wall. “Well, if you have to ask… maybe you already know.”
Even after knowing Yolo cared about me, it still surprised me that she wouldn’t pounce on the chance to get me away from her team for their own safety.
I wrung my hands and thought it over. Yolo hit the nail on the head. If I had to ask others if I was making a mistake, did it mean I had reservations about it and just wanted the culpability to fall on someone else? I didn’t know.
Sabra tilted her head as she studied my face. It likely had a million emotions running over it like an open book. “We can go to Miss Maggie’s and order a panini while you think this over. Perhaps you wish to share with us what it is that troubles you, dear.”
“B-But the meeting…”
Darcy jostled me around, leading me toward the commons area we’d just passed through. “Not to worry, lassie. I’m sure those mutton chops will understand. This is a big decision, after all. And if they have a problem with it, then may they marry in haste and repent at leisure.”
“Darcy!” I chided as she cursed them.
“Oh, hit too close to home for ye? I fergot they’re yer boy toys.”
“They’re not boy toys.”
Yolo scoffed. “Yes they are, ma petite.”
“I didn’t hear you denying that they’re yours,” Triz called excitedly.
“Okay, okay, you know what? I don’t think a panini will help anything,” I decided, pulling away from where Natasia and Darcy had corralled me into their combined escort. “I’m ready.”
Natasia turned to me. “Are you sure? It sounds like you have cold feet.”
My cheeks heated. “What is with you guys and the marriage references? Can you not? I’m nervous enough.”
“Nervous, yes, but not scared?” Sabra needled, dropping a bombshell of wisdom in a few simple words as per usual.
I opened and closed my mouth, gaping like a fish.
As Corbin would say, Well, hot cross buns.
Despite my clammy hands and jittery energy, I held no fear for the meeting about to take place.
“No, I’m not scared,” I whispered, then repeated it with more confidence. “I’m not scared.” My eyes met Sabra’s dark, fathomless pools of wisdom. “I’m ready.”
The corners of her lips tilted up in a slight smile. She closed her eyes and bowed her head. “As you wish.”
She pulled me from the group and led me back.
The walk had a tone of finality to it, grounding me in the present even as I recollected memories from the past. I spotted CJ’s office as we passed it. The door was open, giving an unfettered view of the mishmash of computers and tangles of wires conglomerated at the brain center on his dining table sized desk. I recalled the time I had spent with him, working in tandem with our combined skills to crack a lead on Ivanov’s whereabouts.
The hall had similar offices lining both sides. I still didn’t know who most of the offices belonged to, but I spotted Natasia and Sabra’s shared space, the interior a unique combination of Russian tundra and African savannah. Somehow, they’d made the clashing climates work.
Karl’s office was similarly empty, with the lights off and the door shut. It didn’t surprise me. He’d already be waiting in Conference Room B. Everyone would be.
I remembered my first meeting in that room. Delta had been so brand new. The guys had rescued me from Grinley after he abducted me from Delta’s hospital. At the time, I hadn’t known the hospital as anything other than ordinary yet secure enough to place the suspected terrorist and high valued target I was with Nikolai Ivanov on my trail.
Emerson had guided me in the secret elevator into a new and wondrous world, a world of freedom and choices—even the freedom not to make choices. I’d joined the Cardinals that day, so it seemed painfully poetic now to be returning to that same place with them for this.
We turned the corner, and the conference room came into view.
My breath caught in my throat as my steps faltered.
The entirety of the newly configured Emerson Team stood outside in the hall. Most of them waited patiently. Brock and Aleks were not among that majority, likely due to Yolo’s teasing earlier when she dragged me off. However, when they saw me, they calmed.