Brown eyes sharp. Tired. Angry.
But alive.
Alive in a way she’d never looked with him.
I didn’t stop when I reached her.
Didn’t ask if she was okay.
Didn’t fucking apologize for the life we were walking into.
“Let’s go,” I said—low, firm, final.
No hesitation.
She nodded. Took a breath like she was stepping into a battlefield.
And she was.
But this time?
She had a goddamn weapon standing next to her.
I slid into the back seat beside her, the leather cold against my skin—but not colder than the look in her eyes when she refused to meet mine.
She stared out the window like she could outrun this with her gaze.
She couldn’t.
The tension in that car?
Toxic. Charged.
Buzzed like a fucking live wire ready to snap.
“Drive.”
I didn’t look at the driver. Didn’t say please.
He nodded, didn’t ask questions. Smart man.
His eyes flicked to Kennedy in the mirror, just once.
I caught it.
Let it slide.
Barely.
Outside, the city blurred by—ugly streaks of steel and glass, people too busy pretending not to see what was real.
I didn’t give a shit.
My focus was on her.
Always on her.
Her fingers tapped her thigh. Barely.
