My breath punches out of my chest to the rhythm of the song blaring in my left ear. I wince at the razor sharp sound of an electric guitar solo.

Either Mötley Crüe or Led Zepplin - I hate both.

"Seriously Ethan, quit playing this junk when I'm working."

I press my back against the concrete wall across the yard from the main entrance. The chill of the wall quickly seeps through my wet bodysuit. The shadows should buy me enough time to spot the Target.

"Junk?" Ethan's sharp snort spits out of my earpiece, almost as irratating as his appalling music taste, "I'm sorry not everyone likes listening to old man tunes."

My breathe leaves trials of white in the air, catching in the twinkling lights of the Accardi Mansion. Limos roll in and out of the red carpet driveway like waves on the beach, paparazzi swarming the rich and beautiful like starving gulls. Where's the Target?

"Mozart is the father of Melody and rhythm." The teeth of my zipper open easily, revealing icy cold skin to the pale moonlight, "Please excuse me for having class."

Ethan turns the volume down, slurping on something sugary over the intercom. He weighs ninety pounds soaking wet, yet he eats like an obese orangutan.

"If Mozart is the father of melody, then Mötley Crüe is the rebellious step-son."

"Very funny." I step into sleek pleated pants, perfectly tailored to my lithe build. "Can you get a location on the Target?"

They took my measurements when I first joined the Agency. It's a wonder my sizes haven't changed after all these years. I think eighteen year old me would be disappointed to know I didn't become Arnold Schwarzenegger.

I fix the cuff of my starched white button up, eyeing the flow of people entering.

"Turn on your EyeCam, man. I'm blind over here..." Ethan types something, mumbles about a new 'Meme Coin' and lets out a belch.

I grind my teeth together to keep from snapping at him. His tendency slobbish tendencies grate against my obsession with excellence - Why the Agency paired us up all those years ago? I'll never know.

I press the nearly invisible button on the side of my watch, the EyeCam coming to life. A thin, baby blue circle appears in my right eye. Ethan can now see through my eye, the footage going straight to his screen.

"That's better, Nate."

"Nathan." I correct shortly, tying off the blue bow tie - It was designed to make my eyes stand out. Does wonders on Honeypot missions.

A white limo rolls into the driveway. The individual camera flashes become a solid wall of bright light. The paparazzi seem to be very excited by the new arrival.

"Sorry, I forgot we're not supposed to be friends." Ethan mutters, eating something awfully crunchy. I'm tempted to take out my earpiece. "She should be there by now. Let me-"

A woman steps out of the limo. Blonde, tall, curvy, red dress glittering in the light. Her smile easily outshines the cameras flashing in her face - Bingo.

"Not necessary. Target has been spotted." I comb back my jet black hair, scanning the crowd for a clean entry.

"Atta' boy, Nathan. Ok, let me- Woah!" Ethan chokes a bit on his chips, coughing for a few agonizing seconds. "Holy crap, she's a smoke show."

I snort, striding across the jade green grass. Ethan's not wrong by any means, but I'd rather get shot in the calf again then admit we share the same taste in women.

"Can we please keep this professional, Ethan?"

I screw the Silencer tip onto the barrel of my gun, feeling at ease in the sprawling shadow of the Mansion. "In plain English, I'm telling you to stop being a pig."

Ethan brings her profile up on the EyeCam, an elegant photo of her staring at me through the dark. Sabrina Accardi, the youngest daughter of the infamous Accardi family.

"Oink oink, man." Ethan pulls up a new photo. She's wearing equestrian gear. It's admittedly cute.

I take out three guards blocking the side entrance. The blueprints tell me this door leads to the kitchen, so it should be easy enough to slip by the overwhelmed staff.

"I'd let her ride me like a pony, ya' know what I mean Nate?" Ethan giggles like a teenage boy. It's admittedly _less_ cute.

"Nathan." I mutter, eyeing the busy kitchen staff moving like cogs in a machine.

"_Nathan_, yeah, sorry pal." He shuffles through a few more photos, stopping on a picture of her from college, "This girl is hotter than molten lava."

Before I can move the picture has my entire body freezing. I swam half a mile through frigid waters not even an hour ago, and yet this picture has me shivering.

Her perfect, youthful smile stares at me through the EyeCam. I hear the faint sound of bright laughter, ringing in my head like an echo of the past. Sweat breaks out across my forehead. Her eyes, so green, brighten to near supernovas...

"-te, Nate, can you hear me?" Ethan's urgent voice slices the echo in half, limp threads of memory blowing in the empty winds of my mind, "oh gosh, you totally have frostbite. I knew that bodysuit wasn't-"

"I'm here, I'm here." I straighten my bow tie, shaking off the distraction. "Sorry, man."

"It's ok, as long as you're feeling alri-"

"I'm fine. Let's do this." I ignore the faint sound of carefree laughter ringing in my ears. It's just a side effect of the cold. That's all.

The party passes in a blur of gold and lights and champagne. Dazzling women and handsome men all mingling with charming smiles and sharp eyes. Calculating, assessing, trying to sniff out status.

I wait for the perfect moment to strike. She's had two flutes of white wine. Danced through four songs. Visited the ladies room once. Flirted with three men. She almost genorates her own light.

An older man slinks up behind her, skin stretched tight over his chubby face. His thick fingers find themselves on her lower back, her backless red dress allowing acces to her golden skin.

I'm across the ballroom floor and by her side in a matter of seconds. Blood roars in my ears. I snatch his wrist, twisting it into a painful angle.

I press my bared teeth to his ear, hoping he feels the sharp edge of my canine, "Touch her again and I'll make you wish you stayed home, old man."

I pull back, watching his flakey white skin go ruddy. He wheezes and nods, eyes wide with panic. I release him and he rushes off back into the sea of beautiful bodies.

"I'm sorry about that, miss, I just can't stand when men touch-"

"Liam?" Sabrina's eyes are wide and wet, tears amplifying the green.

My heart skips several beats, matching the rythum of the music. Mozart with a backbeat. Very catchy.

"No, I'm Nath- um... no, I'm Connor McAvoy. I'm a friend of-" My alias seems thin as cellophane under the weight of her shiny eyes.

Sabrina's silky soft hand finds my cheek, thumb swiping across my cheekbone, "Oh Liam, you're as beautiful as I remember."

Liam. That name rings like a bell through me.

"What's happening, Nate?" Ethan's voice echoes my thoughts, "Nate, what's going on?"

"I- I don't know who... who is -"

"Oh god, what did they do to you Angel?" She draws close, the flowery smell of her skin soothing every frayed nerve in my body, "They erased you."

The EyeCam starts spitting Sabrina's profile at me. A long list of crimes, but none as criminal as her bittersweet smile.

"Nate, watch out for this girl, she's trouble. She's playing mind games." Ethan's voice has an edge, a darkness beneath the surface, "Stay focused. She's just a Target. Tag her and leave. Get out."

The whole Ballroom fades into ambient noise, into smeared water color. She's the only thing in focus. Her lush pink lips, so close all I can taste is her glow.

"I'll bring you back. I'll make you remember..." Her voice is the bell. Sabrina is the severed thread in my mind. "I spent years finding the Trigger words, Liam."

Ethan slams something on the other end of the intercom, his voice an angry growl, "Dude, this chick is seriously evil. Get out of there before she-"

"Lotus. Iliad. Alpha. Moonstruck." She brushes her lips against the hot shell of my ear, "I love you, Angel. Come back to me."

Liam slams back into me like a truck. Violent and painful and- and... oh. Nathan Midnight is just a thin alias, like Connor McAvoy, James Smith, Sam Weston, Micheal Goddard. All fake names, all fake people I've played, all _lies_.

Nathan Midnight was a cage, and those four words freed me.

Her cheeks are shiny with fallen tears, mouth trembling as it utters a silent call for 'Liam'.

"Are you there, Nate?" The darkness lurking in Ethan's voice seeps through, staining his tone with a dangerous force, "Nate?"

"Liam." I correct cooly, turning off the EyeCam. Ethan shouts something, maybe a curse or a plea, I'm too busy tracing Sabrina's lips with my thumb to care.

Living a lie, living in the skin of a false man. All the implanted memories wash away, revealing the truth. I was taken by The Agency in college, where Sabrina and I met... and fell in love.

Love, the word seeps into my bones, warming me to my core. She laughs, pressing her cheek into my palm. It's as if I'm holding the whole world in my hand - The Agency Erased her, me, Us.

That's an unforgivable crime.

"Nathan, if you don't turn on your fu-"

"What?" I don't look away from her eyes, a sly smile slipping onto my face, "You'll kill me?"

"Yeah," Ethan's response is immediate, icy and hard. None of his usually childish antics, "maybe I will."

"Ok," I step closer to Sabrina, relishing in the warmth of her aura, of her skin and smile, "Game on, Ethan. First one to die loses."

Ethan responds cooly, "Game on, Liam."

I kiss Sabrina to the sound of my Intercomm going dead. I can't tell if the static I'm hearing is from the dead earpiece, or the blood rushing through my ears...

_It's probably the kiss._ She giggles, pressing her laughter into my lips. _Yeah, it's definitely the kiss._