"I know."
"I don't care."
"Neither do I."
She kisses me again, and for a moment, everything is perfect.
Later—much later—I lie in the dark and stare at the ceiling.
Dalla is asleep beside me, her breathing soft and even, her body warm against mine.
The basement is quiet. The compound is quiet. Everything is peaceful.
But my mind won't stop racing.
The satellite camera.
The trafficking operation.
The Krajncs in Dublin.
Two separate threats, or one?
Is the sedan connected to Ireland, or to the local enemies of the Raiders?
There's no way to know. Not yet.
What I do know is that someone is watching this compound.
Planning something, and Dalla is right in the middle of it.
I pull her closer, feeling her murmur and settle against me.
Whatever's coming, I'll be ready.
I have to be.
Because losing her isn't an option.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dalla
I hit send and hold my breath.
The files upload slowly—twelve designs, technical flats, fabric specifications, construction notes.
Everything Greer asked for.
Everything I've been working toward for months, condensed into a single email that will determine whether my career takes off or crashes and burns.
The progress bar inches forward. Seventy percent. Eighty. Ninety.
Complete.
I stare at the screen for a long moment, waiting for the panic to set in.
The second-guessing.
