She opens her mouth.
Closes it.
Can't say the words.
Because they'd be lies and we both know it.
My phone buzzes again.
Runes.
Fuck.
"I have to go," I tell her. "But we're not done. Not even close."
I dress quickly—jeans, shirt, boots, cut.
She watches from across the room, arms still wrapped around herself like armor.
At the door, I pause.
"Tonight," I say. "We finish this conversation."
"Gunnar—"
"Tonight, Ingrid. No more running."
I don't wait for her answer.
Just walk out, past the reception desk where the older receptionist smiles, through the door into the parking lot.
Charm's at the front desk now, watching me with those knowing mother eyes.
"Take care, Gunnar," she says.
"Yes, ma'am."
"And Gunnar?" I pause. "Whatever's going on... be patient. She's more fragile than she pretends."
I nod, throat tight.
Outside, I throw my leg over my bike.
My phone's still buzzing with messages.
Trafficking ring.
Club business.
Duty.
But all I can think about is the way Ingrid's hands shook when she touched me.
The way she looked relieved when I had to leave.
The way she's still running, even standing still.
I kick the bike to life, engine rumbling.
