“Both.” I pressed my face into his hair. Breathed him in. “We're very good at avoidance.”
“Speak for yourself. I'm excellent at avoidance.” His voice carried sarcasm that didn't quite land.
“Cal—”
“Don't.” He shifted. Not pulling away but creating distance anyway. “We should get up. Debrief properly. Start working through the data from last night.”
“Or we could stay here. Talk about what's actually bothering you.”
“What's bothering me is that we have work to do and we're lying in bed like we have all the time in the world when Harrow's probably already planning his next move.”
I caught his wrist. Kept him from escaping. “Five minutes. Give me five minutes of actual honesty before you disappear behind investigator mode.”
Cal was quiet for a long moment. “I hated last night. Hated watching you with him. Hated that it worked. Hated myself for being jealous when I have no right to be.”
“You have every right.”
“No, I don't. Not when I've done worse in the name of investigation. Not when I've used my body as currency and told myself it didn't matter because the case was more important.” His voice went quieter. “But watching you do it made me realise how much it does matter. How much I need you to be different. To be the one person who doesn't have to become something ugly to survive this world.”
“I'm not different, Cal. I'm just as damaged as you are. Just as willing to cross lines.”
“I know. But I need to believe—” He stopped. Swallowed. “I need to believe that what we have is separate from all of it. That when you touch me, it's real. Not performance. Not strategy. Just us.”
“It is real.” I turned his face toward mine. Made him meet my eyes. “Everything else is performance. This—us—this is the only thing that's actually mine.”
Cal studied my face. Looking for lies. For cracks. For evidence that I was just better at performing than he'd given me credit for.
Whatever he saw must have satisfied him because he nodded. Slight. Reluctant. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay, I believe you. For now. Until my paranoia convinces me otherwise.”
“I'll take it.” I kissed his forehead. “Now can we get up? Or do you need more time to catalogue all the ways this is a terrible idea?”
“Oh, I could spend hours on that list.” But he was moving. Extracting himself from my grip. “But you're right. We have work to do.”
We dressed in silence. Cal stole one of my shirts because his was somewhere in the pile near Eden and he hadn't broughtspare clothes. It was too big on him. Hung loose in ways that made him look younger. More vulnerable.
I didn't mention it. Just handed him coffee when he emerged from the bathroom. Black. No sugar.
We'd almost achieved something resembling equilibrium when Adrian's message came through.
Adrian
My office. Now. Both of you.
Adrian lookedup when we entered.
“Sit,” he said.
We sat.
“Last night was successful from an intelligence gathering perspective,” Adrian began. “Dmitri extracted significant data from the devices you acquired. Audio from the bugs is already providing useful information. And the VIP logs confirm patterns we suspected but couldn't prove.”
“But?” I prompted. Because there was definitely a but coming.
“But you also brought war to my door.” Adrian's gaze moved between us. “Harrow now knows you were at Eden. Knows you're connected to my organisation. Knows that I'm either complicit in your investigation or too incompetent to notice what's happening under my own roof.”
