I inhale instead, filling my lungs with the scent of him. Clean. Warm. A trace of soap. Something faintly woodsy that clings to his skin like the safe house itself. My heart squeezes. This is the problem. I feel safe with him. Safe enough that I can feel everything else too.
The betrayal. The rage. The need to do something other than sit here while Cal’s team “handles it.” I shift again, and the familiar thought hits me like a jolt.
Randy O’Connell.
My boss.
My mentor.
The man who clapped me on the shoulder after my first big piece ran and said, “That’s how you tell the truth, kid.” He put spyware on my phone. He fed my location to a corporate security team. He helped orchestrate intimidation meant to scare me into silence. My stomach twists violently, and the warmth of Sin’s arms can’t keep that out. I can’t sit in this house today.
I can’t.
If I keep waiting, the anger will rot into something useless. If I keep waiting, the story will become someone else’s version ofevents. If I keep waiting, Randy will find a way to disappear or twist the narrative or claim he was helping me. And I’ll never know why. Or how deep it goes.
I need to look him in the eyes. I need to hear him say it. And maybe, if there’s any shred of the man I trusted left in him, I can push him hard enough to flip. Give up the corporation’s location. Their security contractor. Their leverage file. Something. Enough to end this.
My fingers tighten on Sin’s forearm. He stirs, not fully awake, breath shifting against my hair. I whisper, “Sin.”
A low sound rumbles in his chest. Not a word yet.
I try again, gentle but firm. “Sin. Wake up.”
His eyes open, immediately alert, like sleep is just a shallow pool he never fully steps into. He scans the room in one sweep, then focuses on me. “Rowan,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.
My throat tightens at the way he says my name. Like it matters. I press my palm against his chest, feeling his heartbeat under my hand. “I need to do something.”
His gaze sharpens. “What?”
“I need to go to the office,” I say.
The stillness that follows is instant. Sin’s body goes rigid beneath me. His arm tightens at my waist, not in comfort now. In restraint. “No,” he says, flat.
I sit up slightly, still in his hold. “Hear me out.”
“No.”
“Sin.”
He shifts, propping himself up on an elbow, eyes hard now. “We stay put. Cal said stay put.”
“I know what Cal said,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice steady. “But I can’t sit here while my boss plays innocent. I trusted him. I need answers.”
Sin’s jaw flexes. “You want answers, you wait for Cal’s team to bring them.”
“I want answers from him,” I insist. “From his mouth. If I can talk to him, maybe I can convince him to give up the corporation’s location. Their contractor. The leverage. Anything. We can end this.”
Sin stares at me like I just asked him to juggle knives. “That’s not how blackmail works,” he says. “He’s cornered. He’ll lie. He’ll deny. Or he’ll panic and do something worse.”
“That’s why you’d be with me,” I argue.
His eyes narrow. “I’m with you now.”
“And I’m losing my mind,” I shoot back, then soften because this isn’t a fight I want to win by force. “Sin, please. I can’t just wait. I need to try.”
Sin exhales slowly, controlled. “You want to walk back into the place where he has access, resources, and a network. You want to confront him in his territory.”
“My territory too,” I say fiercely. “That office is mine. That desk is mine. Those files are mine. He doesn’t get to take that from me.”
