I catch Deb’s attention. “Check when you have a chance.”
She brings it over. Nadia pays in cash, leaving a normal tip. Not too much, not too little. Forgettable.
Smart.
“Ready?” I ask Nadia quietly.
She nods.
We stand and move toward the door. Not rushing. Not hesitating. Just two people leaving after breakfast.
Icy air hits us as we exit.
The agents are two buildings away now. Close enough to see clearly—professional, alert, armed despite the civilian clothes. I recognize the lead agent. Rogan Thorne. Former tactical unit. Efficient. Ruthless.
“Keep your eyes forward,” I say quietly. “Normal pace. Back to the motel.”
Nadia walks beside me now instead of ahead. Closer. Playing the part, even though we both know it’s theater.
We turn the corner onto the side street where the motel sits. Around the building, away from immediate visibility.
“Will they search the motel?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“How long do we have?”
“Hard to tell. Maybe an hour if they’re thorough with the businesses first.”
We reach our room. She unlocks it, and we slip inside.
The door closes. The act drops immediately. We’re not a couple. We’re two people trapped in a room with a Syndicate kill team hunting through the town.
“We can’t stay here,” she says.
“We can’t leave.” I move to the window, staying out of direct view. “Extraction isn’t until tomorrow. We try to run now, on foot, they’ll find us. And your shoulder—”
She touches it unconsciously. “It’s nothing. My wolf—”
“Your wolf lost just as much blood as you did. You won’t be up to speed for at least a few more hours.”
The wound has healed more, but she’s not at full strength. Not enough for a prolonged chase through terrain that the Syndicate can search with vehicles and air support.
“So we stay,” she says. Already accepting the reality.
“We stay.”
She moves to sit on the edge of the bed. I remain by the window. Watching the street through the half-closed drapes. Waiting to see if the Syndicate searches this far or if we get lucky.
Not going to happen.
The quiet expands between us. Different from the diner. There’s no performance now. No pretending. Just two people confined together with everything unresolved and a kill team outside.
I can feel her presence behind me. Hyperaware of the small space, the lone bed, the fact that last night we were tangled together in that exact spot, and now we’re acting like it never happened.
My dragon stirs. Her scent fills the room, stronger here than in the diner, mixing with my own until they’re almost indistinguishable. Fire recognizing something in her heat. Claiming.Mine.
Not fucking mine, goddammit!
