She didn’t usually feel guilt when she used her power, especially on Renegades, but she did with Callum. He had used his power on her to make Nova see how maybe the world could be different. How maybe her life could be different, if she chose a different path. And the worst thing was knowing that it wasn’t Callum putting the thoughts into her mind; it was knowing that they’d been there all along.
And knowing that she wasn’t going to do anything about it.
When she had chosen to continue with her plan and take the helmet, it had felt like a betrayal of Callum and all his annoying goodness. It had also felt like a betrayal of some small part of herself. The part of herself that still sometimes dreamed of living a life without vengeance. A life where she and Adrian had a future. Maybe, even, a life of peace.
But that dream, she knew now as strongly as ever, would never be. The truth was closing in around her. Her lies couldn’t go on forever. Besides, peace and acceptance wouldn’t bring back the family she had lost.
No matter, she told herself, again and again. Taking the helmet was supposed to be the end of this charade. At the time, she was sure that she would never have to face Callum again—or Adrian, for that matter.
But nothing ever went according to plan, and now there were consequences. There were always consequences, and she couldn’t stop to think about it. She had to keep moving. Keep going through the motions. Lie. Steal. Betray.
Because that’s how she would free Ace.
That’s how she would destroy the Renegades.
That’s how she would end this ongoing battle in her thoughts. The war between Nightmare and Insomnia. Hero and villain. She had already made her choice.
Nova fell into the chair at her desk and woke up the computer. She opened a memorandum template and quickly typed up the note she’d already planned out in her head. She scanned the text when she was done and decided to add a small typo, because Tina, the director of the artifacts department, was always a little scatterbrained and it seemed more authentic that way.
After printing the page, Nova crossed to the second empty desk and grabbed a pen out of a coffee mug by the keyboard, one with purple ink and a giant purple daisy on its tip. She scrawled a signature across the bottom of the page.
Tina Lawrence
Snapshot
Director
Replacing the pen, she spent a moment riffling through the desk drawers, searching for the stamp Tina sometimes used for official documentation for the weapons and artifacts department.
She had gone through every drawer twice before she gave up with a growl, slamming the final drawer shut. Exhaling, she inspected the clutter on top of the desk more closely, but there was no stamp.
With the paper in one hand, she headed into the filing room. She hadn’t taken two steps inside before she spotted the stamp, left behind on a pile of empty manila folders.
“Honestly,” she muttered, marching over to the stack and slamming the stamp down on the memo beneath the forged signature. Setting it aside, she folded the sheet into crisp thirds.
“Hey, Nova.”
Heart launching into her throat, she cursed and spun around.
Callum started, too, surprised at her overreaction.
“Sweet rot, you scared me!”
“Sorry,” he said with a sheepish grin. “I didn’t know anyone was in here.”
“Right. It’s fine.” She cleared her throat. “I’m just not used to people sneaking up on me.”
It was a bit of an understatement. How had she not heard him come up behind her?
The answer came to her a second later. In the weeks she’d known Callum, she’d never not heard him. If he wasn’t pushing around a squeaky-wheeled cart laden with artifacts, then he was jabbering away in the incessant way he had, somehow managing to be both charming and obnoxious at the same time.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be in today.” Callum cocked his head, and she realized he was trying to see the folded letter in her hand.
“Why wouldn’t I have come in? I was on the schedule.”
He met her gaze and held it for a beat too long before his smile returned. “I must have forgot.”
Callum’s expression wasn’t judgmental, per se, but there was something amiss. Something suspicious.
Something very un-Callum-like.
Nova gripped her own smile like a weapon, already concocting a lie about the letter in her hand.
But he didn’t ask about it.
That was stranger than anything. The fact that he still wasn’t talking.
“Oh!” she said, feigning a gasp. “I heard about your run-in with Nightmare. Are you okay?”
One side of his mouth twitched. “Yeah, yeah. She did her sleep thing on me. You know, I’ve heard that a lot of people have killer headaches after she’s put them to sleep, but I was fine. Felt pretty well rested the next day, actually.”
“Oh … well, that’s good.” Nova hoped she sounded confused. “Maybe you’re just more resilient than the rest of us.”
Or maybe I was being nice.
“I seriously doubt that.” His brow furrowed, the grin fading for real this time. “Is it weird to think that maybe she was going easy on me?”
Nova guffawed. It was as fake as she feared it would be. “Nightmare, go easy on someone? That seems out of character.”
“Yeah, I know.” He squinted, inspecting Nova like he knew something. Her pulse thundered. “I know this sounds weird,” he added, “but she seemed familiar.”
Nova’s eyebrows worked their way toward her hairline. “Funny you should say that,” she said, lowering her voice in what she hoped would inspire conspiratorial confidence. “It might not be as weird as you think.”
He blinked, and for a moment he looked like a startled rabbit ready to bolt. She knew he suspected her. That he was well aware of why Nightmare would seem familiar.
But she had to convince him otherwise.
“My patrol unit had a meeting yesterday,” she said, crossing the room to him. His posture was a study of both curiosity and nerves. He should have been wary of being so close to her. If he really did believe she was Nightmare, then he knew how dangerous she could be. How easily she could put him to sleep again. Though maybe that’s what he was hoping she would do.
It would certainly prove his suspicions.
“Adrian has a theory,” she went on. “And at first it seemed a little far-fetched, but now I’m not so sure.”
Callum’s shoulders sank as it became clear that this was not about to become a confession. “What sort of theory?”
“About Nightmare. He’s been investigating her for months now, ever since the attack at the parade. He’s compiled a shocking amount of information and … well.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. Callum leaned in closer. “He thinks she might actually be a Renegade.”
He said nothing. After another strangely silent moment, she saw him become suspicious again. Trying to see right through her.
Finally, he said, simply, “Oh yeah?”
“I wasn’t sure at first, but when Adrian started listing all the coincidences … like that she knew about the helmet, and had access to Agent N … and oh! The mist-missiles? It kind of starts to make sense, right? What if she’s a spy?”
His head cocked to one side. “What if she’s a spy.”