He squeezes my shoulder, drawing my gaze to his. “No,” he says softly, for my ears only, as if I’ve spoken my question. “That’s not what I’m saying, and right now”—he releases me and taps the folder—“everything you need to know about your new identity is inside this. Study it and know it before you let Gallo trap you, because if you make a mistake, he will catch you.”
“And when he says everything,” Matteo interjects, “he means everything. I backtracked to make it look like you arrived here from the United States two weeks ago, including flight data. And since a passport allows you to be here for ninety days, no one will question you being here for quite some time.”
“Does this mean I’ll have an actual passport?” I ask, wondering if I can travel to the States and put distance between me and Niccolo.
“Not yet,” Kayden answers. “Gallo believes you were mugged and your identification stolen. Let him run your prints, figure out who you are, and then I’ll have to take you to the passport office to have identification issued.”
“I have amnesia,” I point out. “Won’t he want me to contact my family?” And the word family punches me in the chest, making me wonder about my real one.
“You have no family,” Matteo says, as if reading my mind. “I made sure of it. We don’t need anyone looking for your relatives to confirm who you are or aren’t and finding out they’re fake.”
“I understand the premise of your strategy,” I say, “but that leaves me alone in a strange country and I can tell you right now, Gallo will use that as an excuse to stick around. He wants dirt on Kayden, and he’ll use me to get it.”
Kayden responds unfazed. “I’ll make it clear to Gallo you’re with me. End of subject, and he can kiss my ass.”
I don’t have time to process how I feel about the nonnegotiable tone of his statement before Matteo announces, “Picture time,” and starts snapping pictures on a camera he has produced from who knows where.
Glowering at him, I hold up a hand. “Can you at least warn me or something?”
“I did,” he says, glancing at his watch and back at me. “And I’ll make the shots I just took work. The passport system is about to do its weekly security update in an hour that, ironically, allows an easy breach. Within an hour you’ll be Rae Eleana Ward, and no one will be able to say different.”
A knot forms in my throat. “I have a love/hate reaction to that news.”
“Make it all about love, sweetheart,” Kayden encourages, “because no one is going to look for Rae Eleana Ward. And we’ve made sure the hospital and police report have different dates and don’t include my name. Once we’re done, you can hide in plain sight, and no one will connect the Jane Doe that was taken to the hospital to you. We’re completely disconnecting you from that identity.”
“What about the hospital staff?”
Kayden dismisses my concern. “You were registered under an alias. We’re covered.”
My lips press together. “I’m still worried. What about the men who followed me? Won’t they keep asking around?”
“I paid a security officer to let me know if anyone is asking around at the hospital,” Kayden replies, apparently having an answer to everything.
“Those men that were following me will know what I look like,” I argue.
“They’re dead,” Kayden announces, not bothering with a preamble.
Stunned, I blanch. “What? How? When?”
“The details don’t matter,” he states, his words as cold as ice. “They would have killed you if they got the chance.”
I give him an incredulous look. “They were human beings that probably died because of me.”
“That would infer Niccolo is a human being,” he replies, “and I assure you, he is not. Moving on. Your passport will have a picture. We’re going to hack in and replace it as soon as it goes live.”
“That includes the police report as well,” Matteo interjects. “I’ve set up a notification ping. I’ll know the minute anything changes on the police report. Basically, then you’ll be a ghost.”
Only there is no “then” about it. I was already a ghost before this, wiped from existence, w
ith no connection to a past I fear I’ll never remember. No one who cares about me will ever be able to find me, and if they did, they might end up as dead as I fear I will be soon.
nine
My eyes meet Kayden’s and his gaze narrows, telling me he’s read my reaction to the word ghost even before he says, “This is a good thing. You know that, right?”
I am suddenly angry at him, at me, at everything. “Like those men being dead?”
He doesn’t react to my attack, his expression hard, his eyes sharp but unreadable. “Yes,” he says tightly. “Like those men being dead.”