Cade’s eyes dropped back to the folder in front of him.
“Maybe it was this. Maybe it was Project Flame.”
“But what is Project Flame? What does it have to do with her?” I asked, pointing to the sad woman in the photograph.
“And me?” I added.
“Maybe nothing. Maybe everything,” Cade said, voice low with frustration. “We won't know until I go through these filesin-detail. The information is heavily redacted. It will take time to sort out.”
He closed his folder.
“In the meantime, it's getting late and you need sleep, Rowan.”
“What? No, absolutely not! I am not going to sleep. We're so close to finding answers! I'll look through it with you. I want to help, I want to—”
But Cade was already gathering the folders, stacking them out of my reach, and Killian stood, scooping me into his arms like I weighed nothing.
“Put me down,” I snapped, kicking lightly at him. “Seriously. I am not going to bed. I'm not a child with a bedtime! You can’t just cart me off whenever you feel like it.”
Killian only tightened his hold on me. “Little Bird's exhausted.”
“Rowan,” Cade said, leveling me with a stern look. “You're finished for tonight. Since you never seem to look out for your own best interests, we will do it for you. You need rest.”
I pointed an accusing finger at each of them while still held in Killian’s arms. “You are all control freaks. Every single one of you.”
Cade did not flinch. “Correct. Now go to bed.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don't,” Killian said, and kissed the top of my head.
“I kind of do right now.”
Talon smirked. “You say that a lot.”
“Because it is always true… in the moment,” I shot back.
Cade exhaled slowly, already returning to the folders. “Goodnight, Rowan.”
“I am still mad at you,” I called over Killian’s shoulder as he carried me down the hall.
“Noted,” Cade said.
Talon called after us, “Sleep well, Pet.”
Ryker then said, "Nighty night, Kitten!"
I groaned into Killian’s chest. “I hate all of you.”
But even I heard the truth in my voice. They heard it too.
A long hall stretched out in front of me, white, sterile, and cold.
It seemed endless. Door after door stood like sentinels along its length. I tried to open one. Locked. Then another. Also locked. All of them were. Where the hell was I?
A voice drifted through the corridor. Small, faint, feminine.
“Rowan.”
