“How do you know?”
“I can see the future.” Rook chuckled. Relief arrived before she could name it. There was the soft scrape of gravel, the lowthrum of a car easing down the lane, and something in her chest unclenched as if released by a hand. She stood without intending to and moved toward the window, pressing her forehead to cool glass. The headlights blinked past the trees, and then the silhouette she’d been memorizing for days stepped out of the car and moved up the path. Her breath came quicker, and the room filled with a small, fierce light that had nothing to do with unused lamps.
Blake burst across the porch with the kind of urgency that left no room for ceremony. He entered the cottage, tossed his kit to Rook without breaking stride, and barked, "Need that loaded into the car.”
“On it,” Rook said and moved toward the vehicle he’d brought tonight.
“Be right down.” Blake jogged up the stairs, stripping as he went. His shirt slung over one shoulder, boots kicked off in a rhythm she’d come to know. By the time she reached the landing, he’d already disappeared into the bathroom, and the sound of water began behind the door.
She paused in the doorway to the bathroom and saw him there, suds running over his hands and shoulders, the hard lines of his jaw softened by the water. Soap beaded along the curve of his collarbone, down his chest, and further. He grinned at her from under the spray, “Are you ready? Packed?”
“Yes, everything is in the car.”
“Did Rook give you your disguise?”
“I can’t see a thing through those glasses.” She leaned against the door jamb. “Why are you in such a hurry?”
“You submitted the article, right?”
She nodded and frowned. “I did. You said it was okay.”
“I did, and it is, but we need to ensure you can’t be tracked. We’re heading to safety.” He put his head under the water and rinsed for a few seconds before turning off the water andgrabbing a towel. Then he stepped out of the shower, dripping water. “I’ll be down in a minute. Go down with Rook, and we’ll take off.” Walking by her, he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her into a breath-stealing kiss before turning her and swatting her on the ass. “Go.”
Her eyes popped open. “You did not just do that.”
“I did, and I’ll do it again if you don’t hustle,” he said as he wiped haphazardly at the water on his back.
Elise hesitated and then followed him. She leaned against the door jamb and crossed her arms. “The article, I couldn’t have done half as good a job without Guardian’s information. There’s no way he can defend himself. Synthetic drugs, Blake. The epidemic that every government in Europe is fighting. He’s responsible for it. And weapons. Everyone thinks he’s a magnanimous benefactor, and he’s not. He’s a monster. He’s making his money off addicts and illegal weapons sales. He’s backing wars and profiting off death.”
Blake nodded. “I know.”
She blinked and dropped her arms. “How?”
“Guardian told me.” He pushed his legs through jeans and grabbed a shirt. “He’s done much worse, but what you’ve written about is going to open his entire life for investigation.” He grabbed socks, sat on the bed, and put them on before he slid his feet into tennis shoes. Standing up, he pulled on his t-shirt, zipped and fastened his jeans, and grabbed her arm. “Come on, we need to go.”
Elise settled back in the rear seat as the motorway carried them away from the outskirts of Budapest. The sprawl of the urban environment fell behind them. Billboards and gas stations thinned until the sky stretched wide and unbroken. The road unspooled ahead, a straight gray ribbon vanishing into the distance. The morning sunrise blurred into low October clouds as the day began.
She looked out the window at the passing landscape. Mid-October had left its mark on the countryside. Fields of freshly tilled earth spread out on either side of the car. They were broken by stubbled corn rows and patches of pumpkins that stood out bright against the dark soil. A scattering of trees shimmered pale yellow in the wind, their leaves loosening in golden-brown flurries that clung to ditches and drifted across the road. Villages appeared and then disappeared, each marked by whitewashed churches and red-tiled roofs. Smoke curled from chimneys into the cold air. Roadside stalls, stubborn against the season, started to open, displaying jars of honey, strings of paprika, and squash piled high in wooden crates.
Eventually, the motorway narrowed to a two-lane road, and with that change came less traffic and almost a peacefulness that seemed so strange considering the stress she felt. Traffic continued to thin until only their car moved steadily south.
“Okay, time to garb up, Elise.” Blake caught her eyes with a look in the mirror. She nodded and drew her scarf higher around her throat, the wool scratchy against her skin, then slid the thick-lensed glasses into place. She caught her reflection in the window and almost didn’t recognize the woman looking back. She almost smiled. No wonder she didn’t recognize herself. The thick lenses blurred everything. But the scarf over her pulled-back hair and the thick bottle-glass lenses made her look even more ordinary and unremarkable. Exactly what Blake wanted.
But no disguise could mask the awareness prickling under her skin. Outwardly, Blake and Rook appeared calm—Blake’s hands steady on the wheel, his gaze fixed on the road; Rook leaning back in the passenger seat, his expression unreadable. To anyone else, they might have looked relaxed, men on a long drive through the Hungarian countryside. But Elise knew better. Their stillness wasn’t ease; it was control, coiled and deliberate,the quiet before action. She felt the tension radiating between them like a current, subtle but inescapable.
The air pressing through the cracked window carried the crisp bite of October, tinged with the smell of damp earth and wood smoke. As they drove into Kelebia, the morning light was high, throwing copper tones across shops and sagging fences. An old man pedaled a bicycle slowly down the main street, and a dog barked behind a gate, but otherwise, the village was sleepy and undisturbed. At the edge of town, the border post came into view. The fact they were so close to crossing the border should have eased her. Instead, a knot tightened low in her stomach. One thing she’d learned in the past couple of days was to take nothing at face value.
The sight of the weathered border post should have calmed her nerves. It was hardly imposing. There were no towers, no armed patrols pacing the line. Just a squat concrete hut with faded paint and flags that hung lifeless in the still October air. Almost laughable compared to the images she’d conjured of steel gates and floodlights.
Yet the quiet unnerved her more than walls and soldiers ever could. She tightened the scarf beneath her chin and adjusted the glasses on her nose, willing herself to breathe evenly. On the surface, they were just another car slipping south, nothing to mark them from the farmers hauling produce or villagers running errands across the border. But beneath the disguise, sheknewthe truth.
The silence inside the car pressed on her ears. Blake’s profile was a mask of calm, his hands steady on the wheel, his gaze never wavering from the road. Beside him, Rook might have passed for a man drowsing after a long ride, but Elise saw the flicker of awareness in his eyes, the stillness that was anything but idle. They were prepared, poised, and dangerous.
Her throat tightened as the post drew closer. What if they didn’t wave them through? What if one look too long, one question too pointed, pulled them into the spotlight? She had run through contingencies in her mind, but each ended the same. Blake and Rook fighting their way out, and her caught in the middle because she was the cause of their troubles.
And worse, what if theydidlet them pass? The thought struck her hard and cold with truth. Once they crossed, there would be no turning back. Beyond the barrier was only the unknown and the faint, chilling knowledge that every step forward tied her more tightly to these men and their world.
Elise drew in a breath, steadying her nerves. She stopped her mind from spinning impossible questions, thoughts, and imaginary problems. She trusted Blake with her life. Blake trusted Rook. She needed to stop spinning herself up.
