Not at being saved. At being understood.
As she turns toward the bedroom, I let one thought settle where it shouldn’t. This stopped being about containment the second she said leverage. Now it’s about alignment.
And if I’m going back into Cupid City, it won’t be as her handler. It’ll be as her partner.
Chapter 8
Katerina
The mountains fall away beneath us in slow, rolling waves of gray and white. From this height, they look harmless — like something painted.
Hawk pilots without wasted movement. One hand steady on the cyclic, the other adjusting with precise control. His posture is relaxed in a way that only comes from experience.
He didn’t have to do this. He knows it. I know it.
He deleted the directive. I watched him. Men like him don’t disobey easily.
The headset presses lightly against my ears. The hum of the engine vibrates through my ribs, through the metal floor beneath my boots.
Temporary clothing. Temporary shelter. Temporary alliance. Nothing about this feels temporary anymore.
“You’re quiet,” his voice cuts through the headset.
I turn slightly in the seat.
“I’m calculating.”
“That’s reassuring.”
His tone is dry.
“You went against your commander,” I say.
“Yes.”
“For someone you don’t trust.”
“Yes.”
I study the side of his face. The strong line of his jaw. The calm in his expression.
“Why?”
He doesn’t answer immediately. He banks slightly to avoid a ridge. The city begins to appear in the distance — a faint suggestion of structures against the morning light.
“Because if you were compromised,” he says at last, “they wouldn’t have forced the elevator.”
My breath stills.
“They would have let you finish,” he continues. “Quietly.”
He’s right. That was the variable. The forced recall. The interruption. He saw it.
“You’re not the problem,” he says.
The words hit harder than I expect.
“You’re the disruption.”
