I stiffen. So does Cassian.
“I think it’s simple,” Talon says, all sharp teeth and velvet menace. “Just gotta make Little Grim feel safe.Reallysafe. Then the rest takes care of itself.”
He’s watching me now. Watching me like he already knows I won’t deny it.
And he’s right.
Because Ican’t.
I can feel his smirk without even seeing it. It’s the kind that curls like smoke, makes you breathe it in before you realize you’re choking on it.
Then he leans in closer, his breath brushing my ear.
“So how about we practice a little, hm?”
“No,” Cassian says. Sharp. Immediate. A single word flung like a blade.
Talon doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even look at him. He keeps his eyes on me, slow and smug, like he’s daring Cassian to push harder.
But I look.
Cassian’s grip on the steering wheel has gone white-knuckled. His jaw is tight. His voice is low when he adds, “We have more important things to focus on.”
“Do we?” Talon muses. “Because from where I’m sitting, helping Skye get her groove back feels like the top priority.”
“You’re not helping her,” Cassian bites out.
At last, Talon turns his head. Just a flick of his gaze. Barely a concession. “You know, Cass,” he says, voice light, taunting, “for someone who pretends nothing gets under his skin, you’ve been wound tighter than a priest in a whorehouse lately. Maybe it’s time you blow off a little steam.”
Cassian says nothing.
Which is already something.
And Talon, of course, takes the silence as an invitation.
“Or,” he adds with a smirk I can feel without even looking, “at least stop standing in the way when someone else is trying to.”
Cassian’s laugh is dry and humorless. “Breaking a couple of your teeth might help.” His voice is low, like gravel underpressure. “Or maybe finally putting the ex six feet under. Or, just maybe, making sure the spirit of Laura fucking Collins doesn’t come back and finish the job on us.”
The temperature in the truck plummets.
My brain is officially two seconds from a meltdown. I pull the blanket up over my head like it might shield me from all this sexual and supernatural crossfire. A burrito of despair. That’s me. Safe. Hidden. Absolutely refusing to engage.
I decide, firmly and with great dignity, that I will be ignoring all of them for the rest of the trip.
Mercifully, we arrive at the hospital about twenty minutes later.
It looks just like I remember; cold and gray and endless, but something about it feels larger now. Or maybe it’s just that everything else feels smaller by comparison. Being hunted by a wraith tends to shift your perspective.
Cassian parks near the side entrance. Nathaniel is out before the engine cuts, scanning the perimeter like he expects something to leap out of the shadows.
Talon sighs like he’s just stepped off a runway, not out of a murder-van. He rakes a hand through his tousled hair and hops out with the casual grace of someone who’s done absolutely nothing criminal today.
And just like that, Cassian flips the switch.
The tension, the simmering rage, it all folds inward, tucked into the quiet, controlled efficiency. He turns to me, all business now. “Can you walk?”
I blink up at him.
