I glance at Rowan. She’s staring at the tech screens like she can will the truth out of the data faster. And I realize I’m going to have to juggle two fires at once.
My father’s ghost.
And the living woman beside me who is trying not to let fear show on her face.
Cal’s voice cuts in. “Sin. Walk with me.”
I stand. Rowan looks up immediately, and the flash of worry is quick, but there.
I keep my tone even. “I’ll be right outside. Stay here. Don’t wander.”
She gives me a look. “Yes, Dad.”
“Good girl,” slips out before I can stop it.
Her eyes widen. Mine narrow, because that was a mistake. Cal’s mouth twitches like he’s amused, but he keeps walking.
Rowan’s voice follows me, light and dangerous. “Did you just?—”
I keep moving. Because if I stay, I’ll do something stupid like smile. And I donotdo stupid. Not when there’s danger involved.
FOUR
ROWAN
The Boathouse disappears in the rearview mirror, but the feeling it leaves behind sticks to my ribs like humidity. Not the building itself. Not the sleek screens in The Bridge or the calm competence of Cal Hayes and the tech team. It’s the fact that someone put a leash on my phone. That someone has been watching me breathe and type and pace my kitchen at midnight, thinking I was alone.
Sin drives like he was born with a steering wheel in his hands. One palm relaxed at the top, the other ready when the road curves. His gaze keeps moving, mirrors to road to horizon, a steady rhythm that makes my brain slow down even when my heart wants to sprint.
It’s night now. South Carolina is a ribbon of dark highway, pine trees and marshland fading into shadow. The dashboard lights paint Sin’s hands in soft green. He looks like a man who belongs in the dark. And somehow, that makes me feel safer, not more afraid.
I hate that my body trusts him.
I hate it because my body is never subtle about what it wants.
I keep my arms folded tightly across my chest, mostly to keep my thoughts contained. That does not work. Thoughts roam. They do not stay inside their assigned lanes.
My phone is gone. Burned, as far as my life is concerned. The new one Cal handed me sits dead in the center console like a replacement heart that hasn’t started beating yet.
We’re quiet for a long stretch. Sin’s idea of comfort is silence and control. My idea of comfort is talking until the fear gets bored and leaves. Tonight, I’m outmatched. Still, the question has been pressing at me since Cal pulled him away.
“You gonna tell me what Cal wanted to talk to you about?” I ask, trying for casual and landing somewhere around suspicious girlfriend.
Sin doesn’t look at me. “Operational.”
“I’m an operation now?”
“No.”
“What then?”
He exhales through his nose, the smallest sign he’s irritated. Or amused. With Sin, it’s hard to tell. Both emotions live in the same house, but different rooms. “Cal just asked about my family.”
I blink. “Your family?”
“Yes.”
“Why would he ask about your family?”
