My heart catalogs something else: a flash of her swinging that bat, the way she moves—quick, efficient, unafraid. The spark in her eyes when she taunts me.
She is chaos.
I am control.
We could be lethal.
Or we could be a disaster.
Probably both.
I exhale, slow. “Fine.”
Arrow raises a brow. “Fine?”
“Fine,” I grind out. “She can shadow. Under strict conditions.”
Lark’s grin could power the grid.
“I get a vest, right?” she asks. “And a comm? And one of those little earpieces? I always wanted an earpiece.”
“No,” I say.
Arrow laughs. “Yes.”
Ozzy smiles. “She can have mine.”
I stare at the three of them. “You’re all dead to me.”
Lark bounces on her toes. “When’s our next mission?”
“Notour,” I correct immediately. “Mine. You are observing. Quietly. From a safe distance.”
She tilts her head, batting her lashes. “Sure, Knight. Whatever you say.”
She’s lying.
I can tell.
She knows I can tell.
And she doesn’t care.
She steps backward, snagging her jacket from the chair, twirling her bat once. “Text me the deets. I’ll bring snacks and backup.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Lark.”
“Yeah?”
I meet her gaze and hold it. “You’ll stay in the car.”
She smirks. “Absolutely not.” She saunters out, humming that stupid pop song, boots heavy on the stairs.
When the door shuts behind her, I stand there for a long moment in the quiet hum of the monitors.
Arrow whistles low. “You are so screwed, man.”
Ozzy nods. “It’s like watching a cat fall into a bathtub in slow motion.”
