I blew out a breath, pressed a firm kiss to Henry’s forehead, and gave him a small push toward the other kids. I stood with Kane as Henry looked up at us with those massive blue eyes. “I’ll—” I started, wanting to tell Henry that I’d come back for him, but Kane shook his head.
“Don’t,” he interrupted. “Don’t make that promise to him, Arden. He’s old enough to remember if it gets broken.”
I ran a hand through Henry’s hair, fixing it from Kane’s ruffle, and swallowed. “Be good Henry.IfI can come back to you, then I will.”
It took another thirty minutes, but we walked away, even when Henry started crying, leaving a gaping hole in my chest. I wiped tears away quickly, sucking in a breath to steady myself. Outside, Rafe waited by one of the three cars we had to steal from Viktor’s driveway to get the kids to the orphanage. Fortunately, there’d been some luxury eight-seaters, and since most of the kids were under thirteen, we’d been able to cram them into a few, each Creed driving one.
Kane slowed a little before nodding to himself and plowing toward the car. “I’m driving us,” he said.
“I don’t mind,” I replied.
He lifted a brow. “There’s a privacy screen. You two should talk.”
I stiffened. “I thought you said I shouldn’t be alone with him.”
“That was three weeks ago,” Kane said, his tone softening. “He’s different now, and I’m still right here. If you need help, you yell and I’m there. But if you’re ready…” His gaze slid past me toward Rafe. “Then I think he is too.”
I wasn’t convinced. “What makes you think that?”
Kane huffed a laugh. “Arden, the guy’s been eye fucking you for a week and a half.”
Heat crept up my neck. “Kane!”
He only grinned when I shoved his shoulder, already moving for the driver’s side. Rafe had been standing close, keys in hand, clearly assuming he was driving, and Kane nudged him aside,snatching the keys. Rafe stumbled, momentarily disoriented. I ducked my head, aware of how warm my face felt, my curls falling forward as I opened the back door. The privacy screen slid into place as soon as Kane got inside, the panel sealing us off from the front.
Rafe followed me in, shutting the door behind him, and the space shifted immediately. The car had barely powered on when Kane hit the gas and Rafe lurched forward, his body colliding with mine before either of us could brace. I caught him automatically, hands at his waist, steadying him as he pressed close, his palms braced on the window beside my head. His breath was uneven against my ear, and the contact sent a sharp awareness through me. He pulled back quickly, retreating across the seat until the middle bench lay empty between us, his posture rigid as he stared forward.
I adjusted, peeling off my jacket as the warmth in the car became impossible to ignore, my skin damp along my hairline. When I opened the vent above me—heat. Kane was blasting the goddamn heat. I shot a glare at the dark screen separating us, then glanced at Rafe. He was closing his own vent and tugging his black Ravens hoodie up over his head. The fabric dragged his shirt with it just long enough for my attention to snag, and he yanked it back down immediately, bunching the hoodie and tossing it aside. His hand scratched at the back of his neck, his gaze fixed out the window, and his focus deliberately elsewhere.
He was…ignoring me.
I sighed and scooted into the middle, making no effort to be subtle about it. The seats were connected, close enough that I knew he would feel the shift, and still he kept his attention fixed on the window like the world outside it was safer than anything happening inside the car. I lifted a finger and poked his shoulder, not hard, just enough to demand a response. Slowly, he turned his head to look at me, his expression guarded anddistant, his eyes flicking over my face. I gave a small wave, and he tracked the movement before turning back to the glass, shutting me out again.
Scowling, I scooted closer until my shoulder leaned into his bicep. His body reacted immediately, the muscles in his arm tightening. His bandaged hands flexed against his knees, tendons standing out beneath the wrapping. I reached for his right hand and picked it up before he could pull away, feeling the tension spike as I carefully turned his palm over. He didn’t fight me, but he didn’t relax either, his entire posture locked in a way that told me he was bracing for pain rather than resisting the touch. I hated that he would feel that way when it wasme. I would never hurt him.
I unclipped the bandage, letting the fabric unwind piece by piece, my breath catching as the damage came into view. It was bad. Really fucking bad. His hand looked like it had been crushed and reshaped, swollen and bruised in a way that made my stomach knot. The skin was mottled with deep purples and sickly yellows, the knuckles misshapen enough that it was hard to tell where one ended and the next began. The fact that he could sign at all was truly incredible, and if he owed that ability to anything, it was the Creed pain tolerance. I traced my finger lightly over his, careful to avoid the worst of it, my lips pressing together, and anger flared in my chest.
Who did this to you?I signed furiously.
Rafe’s hand wavered against mine.
Rafe,I continued,I’ll kill them. This can’t stand. This is your fucking voice, and I know you think that doesn’t matter, but it does. It’s everything.
He bent his fingers to sign before he winced and dropped his hands back to his knees. It only made me angrier. Rafe spent enough of his life being silenced. His hands were the only wayto communicate. He didn’t deserve to have that taken from him too.
When Viktor’s dead, we’re taking you to a doctor, I promised.Maybe there’s something they can do.
Rafe frowned. Barely he managed,Police, before he dropped his hands again.
Right, I said and chewed on my lip.The Ravens have connections. I’m sure there’s a doctor that would be willing to work with us.But something else was burrowing in my chest—the knowledge that our only future was a life on the run. When Alex first came into my life, Rafe and I had been presented with that opportunity. At the time, we weren’t fugitives, so staying and helping the Ravens made sense. Now, we’d have no choice but to run or turn ourselves in, Kane too. It made me sad to know that would be our life, but at the same time, running didn’t seem so bad after so long being forced still and quiet. I had to believe that we’d still be able to help with the Ravens’ efforts against S.I.N. from a distance.
I looked at Rafe as his attention drifted back toward the road. I knew why he was ignoring me. I had known him long enough to recognize it in the set of his jaw, in the way his shoulders held just a little too tight, and eight years apart hadn’t changed that. He was scared of hurting me, scared of losing control, and maybe I should have been afraid too, especially so soon after he had dissociated in the woods, but I couldn’t live inside that fear with him. I had to believe that we were stronger than that moment. Before I could talk myself out of it, I lifted my hand to his chin and gently tugged him toward me. He resisted at first, just a fraction, but I tugged again, firmer, until he finally turned to face me.
Up close, he looked exhausted. There was a torment in his eyes, and it reminded me of the first time we had kissed,reallykissed, back in the bunks at Halden’s compound. Then, too,he had been terrified of hurting me, of crossing some invisible line that his trauma told him meant danger. We were different people now, not untouched, not healed, but stronger in ways we hadn’t been before, and I didn’t know how to show him that without just…showing him. I let a small grin curve my mouth, and my gaze skimmed over his lips, warmth spreading through my chest at the thought that after eight years without a real kiss, it would finally be with him. That moment in the woods was a desperate attempt to get him back. It wasn’t a kiss as a kiss should’ve been between us. I leaned in slowly, giving him time to pull away if he needed to, his eyes widening just a fraction before my mouth met his.
He was stiff, his lips still against mine as if he was fighting the instinct to retreat. I poured everything I couldn’t say into the pressure, needing him to understand that I wasn’t afraid of him, that I didn’t blame him for the compound, and that I loved him in all the broken, messy ways we existed now. I shifted forward and climbed into his lap, straddling his thighs and deepening the kiss, my fingers curling into his hair. I held him there. For a heartbeat longer he held back, and then his lips parted, cautious, before he kissed me back, slow and unsure but real.
His large hands slid up my back, so warm and careful, stopping at my shoulder blades as he pulled me closer. His body softened little by little beneath my touch, his breath steadying against my mouth, and in that closeness, in that silent exchange, I felt the truth settle between us. This was something we didn’t need words for. We never had. If touch was the only way he could tell me what he felt, then I would meet him there every time, letting him take whatever comfort and connection he needed, knowing I was safe in his arms and that he was safe in mine.
