Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Arrow salutes her with his fork. “That’s the most on-brand sentence you’ve ever said.”
She grabs a bag of popcorn and tosses it into the microwave.
Arrow closes his laptop and studies me. “You good?”
“No,” I say honestly. “But I can get there.”
He nods. “We keep her breathing. We get the proof. And then we take Regent’s teeth.”
“And Tasha?” I ask, softer.
“Truth will handle her,” he says. “We just make sure it has a microphone.”
I sink back into the chair, energy finally ebbing. The cheetah on TV stretches in slow motion, sunlight striping its back. For a second, the room is just a room.
My phone buzzes.
RIVER: Made it to bed. Left the light on. Good night
A weight in my chest lifts an inch. I type: Good night. Sleep tight. I’ll be here in the morning
Three dots. Then: RIVER: Don’t disappear
Never, I send, and mean it.
Arrow stands and claps a hand on my shoulder. “Get some sleep, Romeo. Tomorrow we build a girls’ night and a trap.”
“Copy that,” I say, and for the first time in a long time, sleep feels like something I might actually catch.
I turn off the TV. The apartment dims. In the quiet, I let myself imagine the end: arrows on a whiteboard becoming handcuffs; a forum going dark; River laughing in my kitchen with my sister while Juno steals the good olives.
Lines in the sand, I think, as I crawl into bed. Don’t cross. Don’t bend.
But the line I drew years ago—the one that said keep your distance—didn’t survive tonight.
I don’t know if that makes me reckless or finally, mercifully, right.
Either way, I’m in.
TWENTY-THREE
RIVER
A girls’ night. Exactly what I need after everything—after the dreams, the kiss, the betrayal I haven’t fully processed. Mask is Gage. Gage is Mask. And somehow that doesn’t make it better. It makes it worse.
Because I want someone I shouldn't be with. Work complicates things.
But tonight, I’m pushing all that aside. I need to be around other women, sipping wine, laughing over dumb movies and snacks, pretending I’m not one coded post away from losing my sanity.
Juno opens the door barefoot, a silk wrap dress flowing around her legs. “You made it,” she grins, pulling me into a warm hug. “I made sangria, and Lark’s already trying to pick a fight about pineapple on pizza.”
Juno’s place is in a cozy converted loft on the edge of downtown—brick walls, velvet curtains, books stacked sideways on every surface. It smells like rose water and cinnamon, and I instantly relax the second I walk in.
“I’m pro-pineapple,” I tell her, stepping in and spotting the other guest on the couch.
Lark Dawson. Gage’s little sister. I’ve seen her around the NovaPlay holiday parties—a little younger than me, with the same dark eyes as Gage, and the same mischievous smile that can melt granite.
“You must be River,” she says, hopping up and offering her hand. Her nails are painted alternating shades of black and silver. “You’re way too cool to be coding for NovaPlay.”
“I… that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said to me this week. Well, besides your brother.” However, I'm not going into specifics with his sister.
Juno snorts. “That’s a low bar.”
I smile, already feeling lighter.
We sip sangria, curl up on the sectional with fuzzy blankets, and go full girl-mode. Trashy romcoms playing in the background. Face masks. Lark painted a tiny heart on my cheek with eyeliner and declared me “reborn.”
Eventually, Tasha shows up.
I wasn’t sure she’d come. After everything that’s happened, she’s been distant. Not gone, just… quieter. I figured it was just the stress at work, but when she walks in tonight, she’s got a bottle of red in one hand and her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Hey, babes,” she says, kissing both my cheeks like she always used to.
We welcome her with open arms. I introduce her to Juno and Lark, and for the next hour, it’s just laughter. Embarrassing stories. Juno tells one about her boyfriend, Arrow, trying to cook eggs shirtless and setting off the smoke alarm. Lark reads our horoscopes in increasingly dramatic voices. Tasha gossips about someone in accounting who got caught printing out fanfiction on company time.
“Seriously?” I ask, mouth full of popcorn.
“Erotic Sonic the Hedgehog,” she whispers, and we all scream-laugh.
It’s almost perfect. Almost.
But I catch it. Juno’s subtle shifts.
Whenever Tasha talks, Juno leans in too much. Asks too-specific questions.
“What was it like working in HR during the Mason thing?” she asks sweetly, topping off Tasha’s wine.
Tasha shrugs. “Pretty standard. Reports come in, we log them, escalate if needed.”
“But you were friends with both of them, right?” Juno presses. “That must’ve been tricky.”
Tasha’s jaw tightens for half a second before smoothing. “Yeah. But we’re professionals. I stayed neutral.”
“How is it working with my brother?” Lark asks, eyes shining brightly.
I roll my eyes, and Tasha smiles way too big.
“He’s definitely the office hottie. I’ve been trying to think of ways to ask him out.” Tasha takes a small sip of her wine.