She stared at me with those brown eyes I loved, tears about to spill over.
“I’ve forgotten what that feels like,” she said. “Having things that matter.”
I pulled her into my arms again, holding her against my chest while Tressa pressed close to both of us.
“You matter,” I said into her hair. “To me. To my family. You’re not just surviving anymore, Allie. You’re home.”
She clung to me, her shoulders shaking.
I reluctantly released her, though I kept one arm around her shoulders. “Ready to leave? We’ll take an indirect route to my home.”
She wiped her eyes and picked up her suitcase, squaring her shoulders with determination. “I am.”
As we left, taking the back stairs to the alley behind, I made a silent vow to the fates.
By stone and shadow, by blood and bond, what threatened her threatened me.
What harmed her destroyed me.
What hunted her would find me instead.
Chapter 13
Allie
Hail took my suitcase from me, his large hand dwarfing the handle. The simple gesture cracked open the longing I’d sealed shut long ago. I’d become so used to shouldering all this alone that the sight of him helping me with something that was mine made my chest ache.
I’d been on my own for longer than my dad’s death. He’d distanced himself, and that hurt. There was a time when we’d been inseparable, spending weekends together in his studio, him teaching me everything he knew.
“Art is immortality,” he’d once said. “The closest humans come to living forever.”
The irony wasn’t lost on me now. His art had gotten him killed, and instead of immortality, he’d left me with danger and unanswered questions. The shift had been gradual at first. Canceled dinners. Shortened phone calls. Excuses that never rang true. Then one day, I’d shown up at his studio unannounced and caught the panic in his eyes. That was when I knew something was wrong, though I never imagined just how wrong it would turn out to be.
I’d tried to speak about it with him, but he shunned me. Stopped answering when I called. Didn’t answer the door when I went to visit. Finally, I closed off my heart and accepted he had reasons he wasn’t going to explain.
Then he died and this happened. Understanding his reason for pushing me away didn’t make it better, because now I lived a life full of fear.
“This way,” Hail said, urging me down the back stairs to the alley full of shadows beyond.
He paused by the back door, peering through the window, before nodding and quietly opening the panel, leading the way. I followed him through the building’s shadows. The alley smelled like rain, puddles reflecting what little light filtered through the hotel windows. The moon had risen but it was nearly obscured by clouds. A good thing, I supposed. It might make it harder to track me.
My heart slammed in my chest so hard I was sure anyone within a block could hear it. Every scuffle behind us felt like a threat, and every shout or sound from tourists made me want to bolt.
Tressa padded silently beside us, her white fur ghostly in the darkness. She seemed completely calm, which should’ve been reassuring but somehow made me more nervous. Was she relaxed because there was no danger, or because she was a predator who felt she could handle whatever came at us?
When we reached the pottery barn, Hail unlocked the door and ushered me inside. The familiar space brought comfort, but everything felt different now. Charged with danger. The pottery wheels looked ominous in the darkness, crouching figures waiting to spring.
“Wait here,” Hail said, setting my suitcase down near the door.
He opened the storage closet on the right wall and stepped inside, emerging with a sword in an ornate leather sheath, the kind of weapon that belonged in a museum, not a pottery barn.
My mouth fell open as he strapped it across his back like he’d done it a thousand times before. The leather harness fit him perfectly, and the sword’s handle rose over his shoulder within easy reach.
“I know how to use it,” he said, catching my stare. He nudged his cowboy hat back on his head and flashed me a tusky smile. “I’ll kee-keep you safe.”
“They have guns, Hail.” The words came out flat. I’d been living with this reality for months. “Lots of guns. High-powered rifles, handguns, probably automatic weapons. They’re not going to engage in sword fights.”
His smile faded, but he stepped closer and stroked my cheek with gentle fingers. “I have ways around guns too. Trust me.”
