Chapter 85

**Emilia POV**

“Still can’t walk?”
Calum comes back into the room with a bag of Chinese takeout. And another several other bags.
“I can,” I say obstinately.
Even though I can't, the pain is constant and at either end, front and back. He comes to bed I’m on. The scent of hot, savory food fills the small space, mingling with the faint, stale smell that clings to air in this room. I move upright, ignoring the pulse of pain. He dumps the other bags away but keeps the takeout. He takes out the containers and hands them over to me. Each one is warm to the touch, promising a comforting meal.
The muted television in the background hums with low-volume news chatter, its bluish light casting faint shadows on the walls. I crack open the first container, revealing golden, crispy spring rolls, their exteriors glistening with a thin sheen of oil. The smell of fried dough and vegetables hits me, mouth-watering and irresistible. A small plastic cup of bright sweet and sour sauce accompanies them, its sticky surface reflecting the overhead light.
Next I open a box of fragrant fried rice, speckled with colorful peas, carrots, and scrambled egg. The aroma of soy sauce and sesame oil wafts up, inviting me to dig in.
I tear open a pair of wooden chopsticks, the splintery edges catching slightly on my fingers. As I pick up the first bite, the sauce clings to the chopsticks, preluding to a burst of tangy, spicy, and sweet flavors. The first taste is an explosion of textures and tastes—crisp, tender, spicy, and sweet—all perfectly balanced.
“You know,” I begin with a mouth still full of food. “You’re deceitful. You may look like an angel, but you fuck like a demon.”
He looks away with a laugh before he grabs a container of lo mein, the noodles tangled in a nest, studded with slivers of beef and crunchy vegetables. He glances back at me with a hint of heat in his eyes, never breaking eye contact as he twirls the noodles around his chopsticks, the thick sauce coating each strand.
“And you scream like a banshee.”
“Match made in hell.”
He lifts the chopsticks so the stringy noodles dangle above his mouth.
An interval of loaded silence passes between us.
“Your contact reach out yet?” he asks.
I nod rigidly. “He can meet us here. He can get us what I requested. How we get there is on us.”
“Good thing that’s all we need.”
A flush of warmth makes me look away bashfully.
“As much as I dig the bleach blonde barbie aesthetic. You’re going to need a new look. We both do.”
***
The next day, we undergo a whole transformation.
The bathroom is a makeshift salon, filled with the scent of hair dye. Bottles of dye, brushes, and gloves are scattered across the sink. The white tile walls reflect the soft, warm light.
I sit on a stool, bleached blonde hair cascading over my shoulders. The blonde strands are a stark contrast against the black cape draped around me. Calum stands behind me, his hands steady as he parts my hair. The gloves he's wearing snap softly as he pulls them on, their latex surface shining slightly.

With careful precision, he begins applying the jet-black dye, the brush stroking through my hair in smooth, even motions. The stark black dye seeps into the blonde, transforming it with each stroke. The room is filled with the sound of our quiet conversation.
“I swear if I end up looking jacked up—”
“Jacked up?” he repeats with exaggerated offense. “You’ll look like a knock-off version of Megan Fox at worst.”
“That doesn’t sound as comforting as you think it is.”
“Then let’s make a deal?”
I meet his challenge in the reflection of the mirror.
“If you look as bad as you think, you will. I’ll go bald.”
I nod eagerly, smiling humouredly. “Okay, and what will I do for you?”
Without missing a beat, he says, “You eat me out.”
I nearly choke as my eyes implode wide.
As the dye sets, he washes out, then cleans the brush and prepares the scissors. The metallic snip of the scissors is sharp and clear, echoing slightly in the tiled room. He begins cutting my hair into a long bob, the black dye accentuating the sleek, sharp lines. Each cut is deliberate, a careful transformation from long waves to a chic, modern bob that frames my face perfectly. Layered with a soft blunt.
“What I’d say?” He tears away the cape. “Peak era, Megan Fox.”
“Those hands are really talented,” I say thoughtlessly. I clear my throat harshly, rising cautiously to my feet. “Your turn, demon boy.”
I help him drape the cape around his shoulders, my fingers brushing his neck. He sits on the stool, and I take the clippers in hand, the buzz filling the room. His hair falls in soft tufts to the floor, revealing the clean lines of a buzz-cut. The transformation is stark, the short hair giving him a bold, edgy look.
Next, I mix the blonde dye, the creamy mixture promising a dramatic change. I apply the dye to his buzz-cut, my movements precise and careful. The dye contrasts sharply against his natural color, a nod to the iconic look of slim-shady Eminem. As the dye sets, he looks back at me with a heady look of excited expectation.
After rinsing out the dye, we stand side by side in the mirror, admiring our new looks. I don’t like the shoulder-cut bob—I love it. And I have a strong sense that he knows I do. I push him away by the shoulder as he leaves the bathroom, chuckling. I sweep up the strand-strewn bathroom floor and I collect the castaway wrappers and such to throw everything away, cleaning up the bathroom. And cleansing every surface of dye stains. After, I wash my hands before I head out to see Calum on the edge of the bed with his thighs planted on his thighs with a burner in his hand. A troubled look tightening his features,
I go up to him with a sultry stride that entices a glance. I stop when I’m right in front of him as I sink to my knees as I push his legs wide open and he straightens. I undo the front part of his pants, thrusting up his pelvis to let the layers fall as he positions his hands behind him… and I relish at the sound of his suppressed moan when I claim his veiny and stiff self in my hand before my tongue flicks at his tip teasingly, slipping the head in my mouth and his head tips back with his face to the ceiling as the wave ecstasy crashes through us both. Impatiently, he grabs the back of hair to force my head down, almost making me choke as he reduces me to an animal, salivating, slobbering and slurping on the expanse as he begs me not to stop.
***
Payton creeps inside with a bulky parcel in his hands.
Calum closes the door behind him. Payton scans the room studiously before he ventures deeper to deposit the parcel on the surface of the weathered desk shoved in a corner. He taps it and finally makes eye contact, but even that is done distrustfully. His eyes note my hair change with a quick flick.
“Complete identification package, passports, ID, license—everything you need to pass through a foreign country undetected. If I were you, I would travel privately. There are a lot of people looking for you. Funny because both good and bad only have even worse intentions for you.”
“What have you heard?” Calum questions.
“What haven’t I?” he answers cheekily. “You should skip tonight. I had to pass two blockades on my way here. Security is only hardening. Tonight may be your last gap to slip out.”
I release a heavy sigh.
“You got something for me?”
From leaning casually against the wall, Calum pushes himself upright before he walks to the middle, parting the two double beds, which one of them we never use. He goes over and slides out the laptop from the bag, inquiring about his bank account number that he wants the money to be wired to. After the electronic transfer is successful, Payton checks the notification on his phone with a disbelieving head shake.
“Where did you two get this kind of money?”
“You know what I hate more than people who overstay their welcome?” Calum asks rhetorically. “People who are unaware of it.”
He goes for the door to open it wide for him.
“Thanks Payton.”
He replies with a solemn nod. “It was nice. It was good to see you alive one last time.”
Emotionally illiterate as always, he moves on indifferently and Calum bangs the door close behind him.
“Don’t listen to him.”
“He’s not saying what I don’t already know.”
He looks back at me with a reproving stare. Any sense of light-heartedness evaporated.
“Why did you risk your life for this?”
“For you,” I correct, tucking a sheet of hair behind my earlobe. “Neither you nor Hadassah deserved to be condemned for almost achieving what no other legal power has ever. You two are heroes, but in the eyes of my superiors. You are martyrs to be made because you have gotten in their way as well. That book of yours… exposed their secret. They’d never admit it but they want it not just to ensure their own security and secrecy, but to see what other foreign intelligence they‌ themselves can expose if not exploit.”
Calum wanders over to plop down on the edge of the bed.
“Even when we get Hadassah. The only way to clear our names, if that, at least we gain leverage. That book of secrets for our freedom.”
I shake my head sullenly. “There’s no freedom for a rogue that shot two operatives and escaped with a high-value asset.”
“An asset?” he says with a questioning quip in his tone. “At least I’m high value.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I say, extending my leg to lightly kick his thigh.
“That book secures immunity for us all. Trust me, I’m sure they’d like to avoid several diplomatic incidents. Believe me, they’re not going to touch you.”
“You’re so sure,” I whisper cynically.
“Come here.”
He extends his arm out and like I magnet I draw to him. Shuffling over on my hands and knees before I crawl onto his lap, before he wraps his arms around me, gathering me in his grasp in an all-encompassing embrace.
“I’m confident, as I was confident that I would find my best friend.” His hold tautens with a reassuring squeeze. “I will protect my best girl.”
I rest my head against his chest, drawing from his well of warmth.
“We’ll find all five of them.”
My head erects. “Five?”
“Right, you don’t know about Magnus.” He lays his hand on my head to set it back against his chest. In a regaling tone, he says, “This is a long story. And it begins with someone who is dumb, as she is fearless, and her bud that is even more dumb for following her anywhere she asks. ”