That sparks something ugly in me.
I don’t want ugly.
I want calm. I want control.
I want her out of this building.
We reach the first flight of stairs.
Sierra’s breathing is shallow, quick. She’s trying to keep it quiet.
Then voices drift up from below.
Male. Two of them. Low, irritated.
My hand lifts without thinking, stopping her.
She freezes instantly, eyes wide, pupils blown.
Good girl. Smart girl.
The voices get closer.
Footsteps. Heavy. Not resident footsteps. Not lazy.
Searching.
I lean in until my mouth is close to Sierra’s ear. “Listen to me.”
She nods once.
“You’re gonna laugh,” I whisper. “Like I just said something funny.”
Her eyes flick to mine, panicked.
“Trust me,” I murmur. “Do it.”
She swallows, then lets out a small, breathy laugh that sounds forced but not enough to draw attention. She’s trying. That matters.
The footsteps hit the landing below.
I don’t have time to drag her back upstairs.
I don’t have time to hide.
I have time for one move that makes us invisible.
People see what they expect to see.
A couple in a stairwell doesn’t register. A scared girl and a man shielding her does.
I turn her, press her back against the wall, and cover her with my body.
Her breath hitches.
“Knox,” she whispers, shock and question wrapped together.
“Stay with me, darlin',” I breathe, and then I do the thing I told myself I wouldn’t do.
