He turned and left before he could humiliate himself. The second the door shut behind him, he regretted it.
Chapter 14
The armory beneath the estate smelled like steel and stormwater, metal from the enchanted blades lining the walls. Riven stood in front of a rack of combat vests, strapping on reinforced plating while trying not to glance over at Thane.
Trying—and failing.
Thane was already half-armored, rolling up the sleeves of his undershirt to buckle his shoulder rig. His muscles flexed with the movement, lean and hard and tattoo-laced, and Riven’s throat felt tight. Thane looked like he was born in armor, the gear all but painted onto his body.
Riven forced his eyes down, focusing on his own gear. “So what exactly are we walking into?”
“A lead on Kieran,” Thane replied without looking up. “He’s been seen near the edge of the drowned district, paying off a lower-tier broker. Our man inside thinks a meet is happening tonight.”
“And the plan is…what? Sit in a van and glare him into submission?”
Thane’s mouth curved just slightly. “We observe. We track. If we can take him without alerting anyone higher up the chain, we do it clean. If not—”
“Then we call in the cavalry?”
Thane flexed his fingers. “Then we improvise.”
That didn’t comfort Riven. Nothing aboutimproviseever did when it came to working the streets. He needed meticulous planning to be successful at his scores; anything less meant certain disaster.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. A moment later, a small crew of four arrived—faceless in identical dark armor, weapons strapped and helms tucked under their arms. House soldiers. Disposable muscle. Thane barely acknowledged them as he clipped the last strap of his vest and turned toward the exit.
“You ride with me,” he told Riven, voice unreadable.
Riven almost asked if he ever got tired of being in control of everything—but swallowed the comment. No point poking the Beast right before they got locked in a tin box together for gods-knew how long.
The stakeout van was a modified freight vehicle, disguised as utility maintenance. The rear had been converted into a mobile ops unit, but the front cab was cramped—barely enough space for two grown men and the tension simmering between them.
Riven sat in the passenger seat, legs spread, trying to keep his thigh from brushing Thane’s. Maybe not trying hard enough.
Thane tapped through a feed on a holo-pad, his body lit in flickering blue reflected from the screen. The patrol crews had already fanned out to watch the perimeter. They were alone up front, watching the narrow alley across the street where the target might appear.
“You always send in others to die for you first?” Riven asked after a while, too tired to keep the edge out of his voice.
Thane glanced over. “I don’t send anyone I wouldn’t follow.”
“That’s not a yes or a no.”
Thane didn’t rise to the bait, attention focused on the feed.
Silence stretched. But this wasn’t the brittle silence from the ride back days ago. This one…simmered. Riven could feel it in the stale air of the cab, in the way Thane’s leg pressed into his like it belonged there. In the way the shadows outside seemed to push closer around the windows, like even the night wanted to watch them.
“You’ve done this a lot?” Riven asked, needing to break the silence more than he needed to ignore Thane Virellien.
Thane made a soft sound. “Too much.”
“And yet here you are, babysitting me on a stakeout.”
Another beat of silence.
“I don’t babysit,” Thane said. “I don’t trust anyone else to watch your back.”
That startled Riven enough to glance at him. Thane wasn’t looking at the screen anymore. He was looking at Riven, and there was nothing veiled in that stare now.
“You think this is a game?” Thane asked, voice molten. “You think I’m not aware of every twitch in your body, every look you throw when you think I’m not paying attention?”
