“I know.”
A beat.
Then, and I swore Flint’s voice dropped into bestial territory as he growled, “Where’s Brewster?”
I didn’t look at him. I could feel him anyway—standing too close, listening like he always listened.
“He’s here,” I said.
“Put him on,” Flint demanded.
Brewster held out his hand without a word. I hesitated long enough to make it obvious I didn’t like being told what to do by either of them.
Then I switched the phone to speaker without releasing Brewster’s gaze.
One corner of Brewster’s mouth curved. “Flint.”
“Don’t ‘Flint’ me,” Flint said, voice sharp. “You want her back on air.”
Not bothering to deny it, Brewster merely said, “Yes.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“That’s not an argument.” Brewster’s expression didn’t change.
“It’s a warning,” Flint shot back. “You put her back on camera and whatever happens next becomes her fault in the eyes of every asshole with a keyboard and every executive with a spreadsheet.”
Brewster’s gaze flicked to me. Then away again.
“I’m aware,” he said.
“Thenwhyare you pushing it?”
“Because he’s already forged this connection—becauseshehas,” Brewster replied. “Because he’s already talking to her. Because keeping her silent isn’t going to keep her safe. Not if it only makes the Unsub work harder to get to her.”
Flint’s breath hissed. I could picture him pacing, hand in his hair, already five steps ahead and furious that he wasn’t ten.
“You think you understand him,” Flint said. “You think you can predict him.”
“I think she can reach him,” Brewster said, calm and brutal. “And I think you’re afraid of what happens if she does.”
A sharp silence.
“You’re makingherthe story.” Flint’s voice dropped. Lower. More dangerous.
“She already is,” Brewster said with a dismissive shrug in both his body language and his tone. “You’re just pissed because you can’t control the narrative.”
I swallowed hard. Neither of them were wrong, which was the problem. They were both right in different ways, and I was standing in the crossfire.
“Mallory,” Flint said, voice rough with restraint, “talk to me. Not him. Me.”
Brewster’s gaze snapped to mine. Not jealousy, exactly. But I wouldn’t call it friendly.
I forced my voice steady even as I tightened my grip on the phone. “I’m here.”
“Are you going back on air?” Flint demanded.
“I never wanted to be off the air,” I reminded him.
