Betrayal Codes

Chapter 19: Libby

It's a week after Cole got his bruises. They've healed into a yellowish-green hue now. Hopefully, they'll go away in the next few days, but I'm just grateful they don't hurt anymore. His cuts have fully healed, though. He's lucky they weren't that deep. Especially the one on his lip.

Speaking of, the day you couldn't see a single mark on his lip, he came running into my room and kissed me excitedly. "It's healed! I can finally kiss you now!" He let me study his lip to confirm and when I agreed, he dragged me into the bedroom and locked us in for an hour.

When we weren't wrapped up in each other, we were waiting. Waiting patiently for a code that never came. There weren't many ways to pass time when our whole focus depended on the absent codes. Tucker — being the genius he is — constantly suggested we play his favorite game so we played about a thousand more games of truth or dare and made a fool of ourselves more times than I can count.

That was a few days ago. Now Cole and I are cozied together in an armchair in the hotel's lounge with a baseball game running in the background. I'm staring off into space, aimlessly braiding my hair while Cole has fun undoing it the second I finish.

"Hey," he says, tugging the end of my braid lightly to get my attention. "Have you ever looked at your nose? Like, really looked at it?"

I turn and see him staring at me. How long has he been doing that? "No."

"Seriously? Wow," he replies incredulously. "I love your nose. It's so imperfect that it's perfect."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Yes. Absolutely," he nods, kissing my nose lightly. "You have this sideways bump," he lazily traces the — just as he described it — sideways bump on the bridge of my nose. I carelessly ran into a wall when I was thirteen and my nose never fully healed.

"And you have this scar, right here," he continues, running a finger over the line on my left alar crease. The scar is yet another injury that never healed properly. A guy nicked it with his knife on a mission that should have been turned into an action movie.

"And then you have all these freckles only on your nose. I love it," he concludes. I just laugh.

Distantly, I hear a commercial come on. "...We're auctioning off billionaire Parker Crane's family heirlooms and you could be the next owner," the TV announces. I snap to attention, possibly putting military generals to shame.

"What?" Cole straightens. "What's wrong?"

I shush him.

"Mr. Crane himself will be there too! You won't want to miss this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Come to the Mors Gala this Saturday at eight PM! For tickets and more information visit..." I tune out the rest of the commercial, turning to Cole.

"We need to be there." Without waiting for an answer, I slide off him and begin running upstairs to tell the others.

I burst into the room, causing Shay to jump two feet in the air. "Peter... gala... Saturday..." I pant. This mission has made me so out of shape.

"Slow your roll, Lib. Take a breath and then tell us. Preferably in whole sentences," Taylor walks me to the closest bed. I sit and catch my breath.

"Cole and I were in the lounge and an ad for a gala came on. They're auctioning Peter's family heirlooms or something," I explain.

"Probably someone else's heirlooms. No way he has any," Cleo adds.

"Anyways," I continue. "He's going to be there. So we do too."

Now Shay joins the conversation. "Did it give any details? Like the venue location, the date, or anything like that?"

"This Saturday at eight. Mors gala."