“Are you sure? It seemed—”
“Yes, very sure. Let me get that phone,” he says, stepping back from me. “That’s more important than anything else right now.”
Falkor returns, wearing a coat despite the warm weather. He looks the picture of a slightly confused elderly man, which, I suppose, is exactly the point.
“I’ll be back soon,” he says. “I’ll get you the information you need, Grim.”
“I can’t thank you enough.” Grim nods.
“Nonsense.” Falkor waves him off. “You two have done so much for me. I consider you both to be dear friends. This is the least I can do.”
I stand and move to Falkor, pulling him into a hug. He smells of soap and old books, and his arms come around me in a grandfatherly embrace.
“Be careful,” I whisper against his shoulder.
“I will, dear.” He pats my back. “Don’t you worry.”
When I pull back, Grim shakes Falkor’s hand, his expression grave.
“Thank you.”
“See you both soon.” Falkor gives us one last smile, then heads for the door.
Grim and I follow him. We hear the familiar mechanical whir as the garage opens. Then we watch through the window as he pulls out of the driveway, and my heart lodges itself firmly in my throat.
Please let him be safe. Please let this work.
Grim’s hand finds mine, and we stand there together, watching until Falkor’s car disappears around the corner.
“He’ll be okay,” Grim says quietly.
I want to believe him. I really do.
But as we turn away from the window, all I can think about is how much can go wrong. How many ways this plan could fall apart.
And how, if it does, I might lose everything.
40
Grim
I pace back and forth in the living room. My dragon claws at me. He wants out. Wants to fly. Wants to find the old male and make sure he’s safe. Falkor has been gone for forty whole minutes already, and it feels like a fucking lifetime.
Wren is sitting on the edge of the sofa. She showered and changed after Falkor left. It’s clear to see that she’s just as concerned. She keeps glancing at the window, then at the clockon the wall, then back at the window. Her leg bounces up and down in a nervous rhythm.
I regret letting Falkor go. It was selfish and the wrong thing to do. I knew it the second he walked out that door, but I let him go anyway because I’m a fucking coward.
“He’ll be okay,” Wren says, her voice small but firm. She’s trying to convince herself as much as me. “Falkor may be old, but he’s still very capable. More capable than people think.”
I grunt. She’s right, but it doesn’t help the way I feel.
“He’ll think on his feet,” she continues, standing up and moving toward me. Her hand reaches out, hovering near my arm before pulling back. “He’ll get out of any situation. Chances are good they won’t suspect a thing and that he’ll come back with the information you need.”
I want to believe her. I really fucking do.
But I’ve seen too much. Know too much about how quickly things can go wrong. How one small mistake can cost you everything.
I run my hand through my hair, tugging at the ends. “If anything happens to him—”
