Chapter 2

I materialized in the front hall of Drew' s Georgetown home. The air smelled the same, a mix of old books, lemon polish, and his cologne. For a moment, it felt like I had never left.

But the world was muted. I was a ghost, an intangible whisper in a house that was once my own.

My feet made no sound on the marble floor as I walked toward his study. The door was slightly ajar. I heard voices. Drew' s, and a woman' s laugh.

Molly.

I pushed the door open. My hand went right through the wood.

They were standing by the fireplace. Molly, in a silk dress that clung to her perfect body, had her arms wrapped around Drew' s neck. He was kissing her, his hands tangled in her blonde hair. It wasn't the desperate, conflicted kiss he'd given me. It was slow, confident, possessive.

The sight shattered the last piece of my heart.

"I was so worried, Drew," Molly murmured, pulling back just enough to look at him. "This whole operation... it' s finally over."

"It's over," he confirmed, his voice low. "The asset was successful. We cut the head off the snake."

The asset. That's what I was. Not Gabby. An asset.

He must have felt something, a chill in the air, because he stiffened. He looked around the room, his eyes passing right over me.

"What is it?" Molly asked.

"Nothing," he said, but his brow was furrowed. "Just... felt a draft."

I needed him to see me. I focused all my will, all my fading energy, on making myself visible. For a second, a flicker, I succeeded. I saw my reflection in the glass of a picture frame on his desk-a pale, translucent version of myself.

Drew saw it too. His glass of whiskey slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor.

"Gabby?" he breathed, his face a mixture of shock and disbelief.

He thought I was alive. He thought I had come back.

Hope, stupid and useless, flared in my chest. He would be relieved. He would be happy I was safe.

But his face hardened. The shock was replaced by cold, sharp anger.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice like ice. "You abandoned your post. Do you have any idea the diplomatic crisis you could cause by just showing up like this? You were supposed to follow protocol."

He took a step toward me, his rage palpable. "The mission was everything. Your desertion puts all of it at risk."

My desertion.

He didn't see a dead girl. He saw a liability. He wasn't worried about my safety. He was worried about his operation.

The hope died, turning to ash in my soul. I let my form dissolve, fading back into an invisible ghost of memory.

I watched as he stared at the empty space where I had been, his face a storm of fury and confusion.

Molly rushed to his side, placing a hand on his arm. "Drew, what was that? Who were you talking to?"

"Nothing," he snapped, turning away from her. "I'm just tired. It's been a long three years."

He didn' t see me. He never really had.