“No,” I say. “Leave it.”
“You okay?”
“Yes,” I lie, because I’m tired of hearing myself answer that question honestly.
He nods and backs away. He grew up in a house that taught him when to stay and when to disappear. It’s one of the reasons I trust him: the right kind of absence is a skill.
I sit on the edge of the bed and stroke Zeus’s ear until he sighs. The news flips to footage of the casino—B-roll of the lobby at night, the chandelier, the fountain everyone takes photos of like they’ve never seen water before. A voiceover talks about our “resurgence of safety measures,” which is a nice way to frame a failure and the fix it demanded.
A second piece runs below it, a ticker:Sources report former head of security Rafe Collier remains person of interest in shipping-related investigation.
Good, I think. Say his name. Make it taste like iron for whoever says it.
I should feel something else about the body. I should feel something about Conrad, too. About what it costs to walk off a bridge with your father’s blood on your shirt. About the way he said “I can’t touch you without the truth between us” and then left because he didn’t trust himself not to burn the honesty down with the bed.
But what I feel is cleaner: a grateful slice of silence where his father’s voice used to live in my head.Masterson rules. Masterson ways. Masterson costs.All of it is river mud now. All of it is someone else’s problem.
I’m glad he has closure. I’m not sorry for it. This is the thing about men like Conrad—they are monuments until you put a crack in the right place. Then they’re just water and gravity, like everyone else.
My tablet chimes again.
Kendra:“Mrs. Carlisle ‘found’ her earrings in her clutch while standing at the manager’s desk. She said ‘isn’t that always the way.’ We smiled. I added her to the list.”
Phoenix: Good job,I reply.We’ll never say we told you so, but we’ll be ready next time.
Another ping.
Housekeeping:“Two new hires started this morning. One no-show. The other is good. Told her floor managers escort in pairs and to call for an escort after ten anywhere off main. She said thank you. I almost cried.”
Phoenix: I did cry. Privately. Keep going. You’re doing everything right.
A knock. Three quick, one slow. My lungs seize, then settle. Atticus taught me that pattern when we moved into the safe house; Storm and Maverick stole it like brothers steal everything that works.
Jace calls from the other side of the door, pitched low. “Phoenix? It’s Spencer.”
Relief hits me like a chair. I cross the room and open the door enough to pull him inside. He smells like clean cotton and cold air, like every sensible thing I don’t make space for until someone hands it to me.
“You look like hell,” he says, affectionate.
“You’re not wrong.”
He glances at the TV, the crawl, the river. His expression doesn’t change. He’s the only man I know who can clock a corpse and a breakfast order in the same breath and not make the second feel like a joke. “News will do what news does. Are you ready to stop hiding in plain sight?”
“I’m working,” I say, because it’s the one fig leaf I get to wear.
“You’re managing a department from a couch with a dog for an HR partner,” he says mildly. “Which is fine for a day. It’s not fine for a week.”
I rub at the back of my neck. The tracker’s insertion site is a small tender knot I keep pretending not to poke. “I haven’t decided what my entrance looks like,” I admit.
Conrad thinks that I don’t know about the tracker, but I’m not an idiot. He knows exactly how to find me when he’s ready.
Until then, I’ll wait.
“I think you have,” he says, and nods toward the hallway, toward the elevator bank, toward the lobby I can see in my mind without moving—front desk chaos at shift change, bell staff lined like soldiers, Rosa in housekeeping with a list and a look that says “don’t try me,” Valet running, Security rotating, the casino floor humming under all of it like a heartbeat. “I think you walked in this morning without a fake name because you were already writing the speech.”
“I don’t have a speech,” I say, dry.
He raises his brows.
