The sharpie lines remain, albeit faded and pink, as if he scrubbed them until his skin screamed.
“I can’t…” He gestures helplessly at his face, holding a bottle of hand sanitizer.“If Frankie sees this…”
“Come here.”I push myself up, making room for him on the couch between my legs.
He settles there, facing me, shoulders hunched.I take the bottle from his hand, soak the cloth, and bring it to his cheek.
“Frankie was there.”I start slow, making small, careful circles.“The last time you drew this on.”
He makes an uncomfortable sound in his throat.
“That’s why you don’t want her to see it?”I keep my touch light.“It’ll traumatize her?”
“Yeah.”His mouth flattens beneath my fingers, troubled and sad.“Like a breaking storm.”
I work the sanitizer into the ink, watching the lines blur, lift, and surrender in streaks of gray and pink.His skin is already irritated, tender from over-cleaning.
I think about the life he survived.The isolation, starvation, kin punishment, molestation, and men who enjoyed breaking things.Loss layered on loss until pain became background noise.Worse than the hell Dove and I navigated, and ours was fucking brutal.
I’m glad he let me read the journal.
Without it, I don’t think I could sit here like this.I’d still be guessing at his depths and angles instead of understanding the cost.It gives me the clarity I need to move forward with him, whatever forward ends up meaning.
The cloth darkens.The smile fades.
In Sitka, I’ll get my equipment back.I’ll contact Restrepo.I’ll bargain, threaten, and trade favors I shouldn’t owe.
I’ll sell my soul to get Dove back.
Whatever is left of me when it’s done, I’ll give to her and Wolf.
I know what I am now.A hacker for the cartel, and they don’t let go.I won’t pretend I can escape, not without dragging hell behind me.That door is closed.
But if I let myself dream, just for a second, I would give Dove and Wolf the world.Not to own it.Not to stand in the middle of it.Just to be allowed to exist at the edges of their life together.
Eventually, the last of the ink disappears.I use a bottle of water to wipe away the harsh sting of sanitizer.
When I’m done, I tip his chin up with two fingers and look him over.“It’s gone.”
“Blue princess.”He studies my face.
I hold his gaze, waiting for the questions.
“Were you leaving breadcrumbs for me on purpose?”His eyes sharpen despite the exhaustion.“Or was it a slip?”
“It was a clue.Insurance.One I didn’t think you’d ever need.”
He nods, absorbing that, then tilts his head.“What about the rock at the gravesite?The passcode?”
“That was for Dove.I left it the last time I went to California.”
“When you killed Gavin.”
Shock grips me, followed by a hard snap of defensiveness.I don’t know why I bother feeling either.Wolf doesn’t miss details.He devours them.
He’s frighteningly smart.
And Dove?Yeah.She pieced it together, too.
