Three texts from Runes:
Lead on trafficking ring. Need you at clubhouse NOW.
Potential location identified. Moving fast.
20 minutes.
"Fuck." I sit up, sheet pooling around my waist.
Ingrid's across the room now, arms wrapped around herself.
Not looking at me.
"Club business?" Her voice is carefully neutral.
"Yeah. I have to go."
Something flickers across her face.
Relief? Disappointment? Both?
"Of course you do."
"Ingrid—"
"You should get dressed. Runes is waiting."
I stand, sheet dropping.
Move toward my clothes.
But I stop in front of her first.
Force her to look at me.
"This isn't over."
"Your massage is. That's all this was."
"Liar."
Her jaw tightens. "Go. Do your club thing. Save the day. I'll still be here, same as always."
"You're relieved I have to go."
"I'm not?—"
"You are. One more excuse to run." I step closer. "But it won't work forever, Ingrid. Eventually, you'll have to face this."
"Face what?"
"That you feel something. That last night mattered. That you're terrified because for once, someone actually sees you and doesn't run."
Her eyes shine with unshed tears.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Then prove me wrong. Tell me you felt nothing. Tell me it was just sex. Tell me you don't want this."
