Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
“Knight asked you.”
“Yeah.”
“So he saw this coming.”
“Possible. None of them thought it was likely.” The highway curves and I keep the speed steady. “Serafina’s smarter than they figured.”
She turns and stares at me. I feel the weight of her gaze like a touch. She’s assessing me now, nothing like those teasing diner looks she used to toss my way when she thought I wasn’t watching.
I was always watching.
“Why you?” she asks.
“What?”
“Why did Knight pick you? He could’ve asked Arrow. Gage. Anyone.”
Because Dean trained me to slip through dark spots and come back with who I went for. Because I don’t quit. Because I’m the misfit hacker who shows up anyway.
I don’t say any of that.
“Because I would’ve come whether he asked or not,” I tell her.
The air between us shifts and the car suddenly feels much smaller.
She turns to the window. Trees swallow the highway as the city drops away.
I drive.
The exit comes ten minutes later. I take the gravel turnoff marked by my reflector post. The road narrows and pines close in. I kill the lights halfway and follow memory through the dark.
The cabin appears like the woods forgot it was here. Single story with silver siding and one sagging roof corner. It’s the perfect hideout.
I park under the pine overhang, kill the engine, and scan the trees. Nothing moves.
“Stay here,” I say. “I’ll check first.”
She nods, exhaustion clear on her face. I clear the place quickly. One main room. Basic bathroom. Kitchenette with the canned stuff I stashed earlier. A fireplace I won’t use. One bed against the far wall.
I go back for her.
She’s already out, leaning against the door. Moonlight catches the bruise on her face. Her legs look steadier now. She walks in on her own and I let her. She needs that small victory.
Inside I flip the generator and dim lights flicker on. She stands in the middle of the room and eyes the bed, then the kitchenette, the table, and the two chairs. No couch.
“One bed,” she says.
“I’ll take the floor.”
“The concrete floor?”
“I’ve slept on worse.”
She looks at me for a long moment, really looking, with calculations running behind those beautiful green eyes. “No, you haven’t.”
“Sit,” I say as I pull out the first-aid kit. “Let me see your face.”
She sits on the edge of the bed. I drag a chair over so my knees bracket hers when I lean in. The space between us feels way too intimate.
I tip her chin gently. The bruise runs deep. My vision tunnels red for a second and I breathe through it. “Who?” I whisper.
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me.”
She doesn’t answer. “Just clean it. I’m fine.”
She’s not, but I let it slide for now. I dab antiseptic on her lip and she flinches but stays still. The cut is shallow. The bruise will darken tomorrow.
My thumb brushes the edge of it and we both go still. We’re close enough that I see the gold flecks in her green eyes and feel her breath warm against my wrist. For years I’ve dodged this moment.
I pull back and stand, the chair suddenly feeling like a pitiful barrier between us.
“Get some sleep,” I say. “I’ll watch.”
“Render.”
“Yeah?”
She opens her mouth, then closes it. Something passes through her eyes that I can’t quite read and it bugs me. I’ve studied her from safe distances for years. “Thank you,” she breathes.
I nod, grabbing a blanket and dropping it by the door. The concrete is going to be miserable, but that’s fine. It’ll keep me sharp.
She lies down fully clothed, curling up facing me with her knees pulled up and one hand tucked under the pillow. The dim light catches her raw wrists. I look away.
I stretch out on the floor with my knife close and stare at the ceiling. I listen to her breathe, catching every inhale and every small shift.
Sleep won’t come and I don’t expect it. I lie here with the woman I’ve wanted for years just ten feet away and think about Poe bleeding somewhere, Serafina’s bored voice promising ruin, and the way Enley’s pulse felt under my fingers earlier.
She’s not fine.
Neither am I.
But she’s alive. Tonight that’s enough. Tomorrow we plan. Tomorrow we fight.
Right now I listen to her breathe and let that be enough.
2
Enley
I don’t sleep.
I close my eyes because he’s watching and I don’t want him to see the storm inside my head. If I look calm and rational, maybe I can buy myself enough time to actually process everything that’s happened. But behind my eyelids my brain races the way it always does when I feel cornered. I’m not thinking about the room or the man in it. I know this place is safe. I know Render is safe. I have known Render James for years. I’ve watched him at crew dinners and in crowded lofts, noticing the way he moves through spaces with confidence, seeing everything while disturbing nothing. He’s Poe’s best friend. He’s the person my brother trusts with secrets he won’t name. He would never hurt me.