The words hung in the air between them. Heavy. Undeniable.
Henley said nothing, her gaze steady but patient. "I know that's a lot to take in. How are you feeling right now?"
Lark's fingers curled against her thighs. "Like you just peeled back a layer I didn't want anyone to see."
"That's honest. And hard." Something shifted in Henley's expression—softened. "You don't have to have answers today. Just think about it. About what living—not just surviving—might look like for you."
Lark managed a nod.
“I think that's a good place to pause for today.” Henley stood. “You did good work here. I know it doesn't feel like it, but showing up is half the battle. You can call me day or night. Take advantage of your time here. Walk the trails. Visit the animals. Chat with Brick and the rest of our owners. They’ve all been through some stuff.” She smiled. “Kawan cares about you, and I believe you feel the same way. Let him in. I can’t promisethat things won’t get mucky. Or that you won’t hurt each other. Relationships don’t work that way.”
“We’re not a thing,” Lark said.
“You’re at least friends, and that’s a relationship,” Henley said. “But just remember, neither of you will break.” She walked away, her boots denting the grass with the same delicate care as her words.
Lark stayed rooted in the chair, arms tight around herself. She stared at the sun as it sank behind the hills, her breath ragged, eyes stinging.
And for the first time in years, she didn’t know if she wanted to be strong.
She just knew she wanted to stop being alone.
10
THE REFUGE, NEW MEXICO
Kawan stood on the porch of the cabin that Jupiter and Specs were sharing, gaze trained on the distant figure of Lark seated with Henley. The late afternoon sun slanted across the open grounds of The Refuge, casting long, gleaming fingers across the land. In the distance, a soft breeze danced through the cottonwoods, stirring the leaves with a hush like breath through prayer beads.
Lark was too still. Not calm—brittle. Like she might crack at any moment.
“Hard to tell if she’s holding it together or holding herself hostage.” Jupiter appeared beside him, offering a mug of coffee. “Specs brewed it. Might melt the paint off a battleship.”
Kawan took a sip and hissed. “Jesus. She weaponized caffeine.”
“Explains why she’s always ready to jump out of her skin.” Jupiter leaned against the post, flicking his gaze toward Lark and Henley. “That woman doesn’t blink. Henley, I mean. You’d think Lark would’ve walked off by now, but she’s still sitting there. Must mean something.”
“Means she’s trying.” Kawan exhaled. “Doesn’t mean she’s okay—even if she thinks she is.”
They stood in silence for a long beat, sipping coffee. Kawan replayed the day’s events, trying to make sense of everything.
Jupiter broke the silence. “I ran the plate from the SUV that pushed you guys off the road.”
Kawan’s head snapped toward him. “And?”
“Local registration. Reported stolen about two hours before the incident.” Jupiter’s voice darkened. “That’s not a coincidence.”
Kawan’s jaw flexed. “Never thought it was.”
“The questions we need to be asking are what kind of warning it was, and from whom,” Jupiter said. “Because if they wanted you dead, bullets would’ve been flying, and since that didn’t happen, the first question has me scratching my head.”
“Why?”
“The mission went sideways because someone wanted the AI. That’s a given. If it’s Lorre, then he had people killed to cover up his involvement. If he had nothing to do with it, and it was Bretton or another operative, same thing,” Jupiter said. “If it was someone else, they had to kill to get it.”
“I see where you’re going with this.” Kawan lifted his mug and took a quick sip. “If the AI is already in play, why continue to come at us?”
“Exactly.” Jupiter nodded. “Ry, Specs, and I are working on a variety of angles. We’ll figure it out, but this all takes time. I’m not sure we have it.”
“Were you able to attend the meeting with Homeland?” Kawan asked.
