My hands linger over the collection of weapons I've selected. Three pistols, two knives, a garrote wire disguised as a decorative bracelet, and enough ammunition to take down a small army.
Or at least make a decent showing before we're slaughtered at the Surhiiran border.
I zip the bag closed and survey the room one last time. Most of my clothes are staying behind. Traveling fast means traveling light, and we'll need every advantage.
There's just one thing left to do, and I've been putting it off all morning.
Saying goodbye to Geo.
It's not like it's the first time, but somehow, this time is harder.
My stomach twists at the thought. I can already picture his face, that carefully constructed mask of indifference that never quite reaches his eye. He'll grunt and wave me off like he couldn't care less.
I wish pretending came half as easily to me.
I sling my bag over my shoulder and head out into the corridor. The living room is empty, though I can hear Knight's low growls and Nikolai's irritated muttering from down the hall. Cosima's soft laughter floats between them, the sound making my heart do a strange flip in my chest.
Gods, I've only known her face to face for a matter of days, but I'd follow her into hell itself.
Which is exactly what I'm about to do.
Geo's quarters are strangely empty. No sign of him in the kitchen, his office, or his bedroom. I check the rooftop access, remembering how he likes to brood under that toxic wasteland sky he inexplicably loves, but find only empty vodka bottles and cigar butts.
Is he avoiding me? The thought stings more than it should.
As I make my way back through the tunnels, I pass a door I've only seen open a handful of times. Geo's private collection. His "museum," as he sarcastically calls it. The sanctum where he keeps all the pre-war treasures and oddities he's salvaged from the wasteland over the years.
Sure enough, a thin line of light spills from beneath the heavy steel door.
I hesitate, my hand hovering over the handle. Geo guards this space jealously. Even I'm rarely allowed inside without explicit invitation. But today of all days, the normal rules don't seem to apply.
I push the door open without knocking.
The room beyond is a strange hybrid of military bunker and eccentric art gallery. Glass cases line the walls, filled with artifacts from the old world. Pieces of technology whose purpose has been long forgotten. Trinkets and treasures from civilizations obliterated in the war. Fragments of weapons that might have once helped bring about the end of days.
And there, in the center of it all, sits Geo in a battered leather armchair. The only source of light is a single lamp positioned to illuminate the empty glass case directly in front of him, and I know exactly which trophy it's meant to house. His broad frame looks incongruously gentle in the soft glow, one large hand wrapped around a tumbler of what's undoubtedly his best scotch.
He doesn't look up when I enter, but I know he's aware of my presence.
Nothing gets past Geo.Ever.
"I'm surprised you haven't gotten that damn thing by now," I say, nodding toward the empty spot in the case before him. "I gave you all but the GPS coordinates on that flash drive."
The Harbinger. The skull of a beast so legendary, it may as well be a cryptid. Tracking it down required calling in countless favors and more than a bit of bloodshed. It was the only bargaining chip I had when I first came back, desperate for his help to find Cosima. A prize he's lusted after for longer than I've known him, and yet he's made no move to obtain it when it's finally within his grasp.
Geo grunts, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "I'll get around to it." He takes a slow sip, then adds, "Assuming we come back from this alive."
I freeze, the casual plural stopping me cold. "'We?'" I echo.
He finally looks up, his single eye reflecting the dim light like a predator's eye in the darkness. "Your brilliant suicide mission to Surhiira." His mouth twists into something that's not quite a smile. "But I figure at least the omega will make it out. Surhiirans worship them, and you're close enough to being one that you'll probably be fine."
I don't even have time to decide between being insulted and touched. My mind still stuck on the first part of his statement.
"I—wait, what do you mean 'we'?" I stammer, suddenly feeling off-balance. "You can't go with us. You've got a market to run."
Geo barks out a harsh laugh. "I'll do as I damn well please." He takes another sip of scotch, his eye never leaving my face. "Been meaning to get out of this shithole for a while anyway." Something darker enters his gaze. "And if you think I'm letting you run off and get yourself killed, you're crazier than I thought."
My heart does a strange little flip in my chest that I immediately try to suppress. This can't be happening. This isn't part of the plan.
