I slam my palm against the wall as the truck lurches sideways, my boots sliding on the metal floor. The vibration travels up my arm, electric and sharp, and my lips twitch upward before I can school my expression.
“Don't jinx us,” I tell him, flicking his shoulder. “The universe has ears.”
His grin splits wider, teeth flashing in the dim light. A bead of sweat tracks down his temple as he leans forward, pupils blown wide, that unmistakable post-heist flush creeping up his neck—the look of someone who just outran death and can't believe their luck.
Gage opens the little window from the cab to the back, and cool air flows instantly. “How’s my favorite stowaway?”
“So good, brother. Thanks for asking,” Cruz says, flashing me a wink.
Gage laughs. “You fuckin’ wish, man.”
Cruz presses his palm to his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me, man.”
“Somehow you’ll get over it,” Gage says, sarcasm dripping from his words. “You good, Bell?” He tilts his face to the side, but he can’t see me unless he turns around.
I carefully take a few steps until I’m right by the little window, kneeling on a small bench. “Don’t worry about me, Gage. You just keep your eyes on the road. I’ll keep Cruz in line.”
“Hey, I heard that,” Cruz protests from behind me.
I bite the inside of my lip, rolling my eyes and pushing back from the window. “You were supposed to.”
Static hisses through the earpiece. Beck’s voice comes through, distracted but clear. “Sixty-five percent. The program is moving faster than planned.”
Cruz whoops, pumping a fist against the wall and unmuting his line. “You beautiful nerd.”
“Thanks?” Beck asks, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
My lungs expand so fast it almost hurts, oxygen flooding my bloodstream like a drug. My fingertips tingle. The truck's vibrations travel through the metal wall into my spine, each bump in the road sending electric currents to my extremities.
I lean back, my lips stretching so wide my cheeks ache, and for three perfect heartbeats, I can feel every cell in my body humming.
I slide down onto one of the reinforced benches. My fingertips tingle against the cool metal edge. Cruz drops beside me, his leg bouncing double-time against the floor, shoulder knocking into mine with each vibration.
“Tell me you feel it, Bells.” His whisper cuts through the hum of the engine, pupils still blown wide.
I look at him, watch his fingers drum invisible piano keys against his thigh.
“That buzz. Like—like the air's humming.”
The corners of my mouth lift without permission. My skin prickles with awareness.
This is it.
The knife’s edge, when you’re balancing and laughing at gravity for not pulling you under yet. The world feels thin as tissue paper, translucent and fragile. Everything seems possible, inevitable even.
My heartbeat slows to a single, suspended pulse. The air tastes metallic on my tongue. I'm floating six inches above my own body, watching myself smile with a mouth that belongs to someone braver. Cruz's laugh echoes like it's traveling through water. Light fractures around the edges of everything—the truck's interior breaking into prisms, time stretching like taffy between my fingers. I could reach out and touch tomorrow.
He slings an arm across my shoulders, pulling me into him. “We make a fucking excellent team, Bells.”
His words hit me like a shot of whiskey—warm, then burning. My leg bounces faster against the metal floor. Before I know it, I'm standing, pacing the three steps the narrow truck allows, my boots echoing hollow thuds. I reach for my phone,thumb sliding across the screen to unmute, needing to do something.
“Five, update?”
“Seventy-nine,” Beck replies.
“Six? All good?” I press, the nervous energy thrumming under my skin.
“Clear skies,” Lola says.
