When Talia hangs up, she looks at me with eyes that are red-rimmed but determined. "She wants to talk to you."
I take the phone, put it to my ear. "Jackie."
"You're bringing her back." It's not a question. Jackie's voice is flat, controlled, the voice of someone holding onto their composure through sheer force of will. "To them. To the Vipers."
"Yes."
"This is insane?—"
"I know." I watch Talia climb back onto the bike, watch her wipe tears from her face with hands that are still shaking. "But it's what she wants. And she's eighteen. Legally an adult. We can't force her to come home if she doesn't want to."
"She's my daughter?—"
"She's her own person," I interrupt gently. "And she's made her choice. All we can do is make sure it's as safe a choice as possible. Make sure they know that if they hurt her, they answer to us."
Jackie is quiet for a long moment. Then: "You're bleeding."
"How did you?—"
"I can hear it in your voice. You sound like you got run over by a truck." She pauses. "How bad?"
"Bad enough that I probably need a hospital. Not so bad that I can't ride a bike back to Viper territory first."
"Asher—"
"I'll be fine, Jackie. I've survived worse." I watch Talia rev the engine, testing it, getting familiar with it.
"You're really doing this."
"I'm really doing this." I close my eyes, let the exhaustion wash over me for just a second before pushing it back down. "Talia loves them. Maybe that's enough. Maybe it's not. But it's her choice to make."
"And if it goes wrong?"
"Then we go to war for real this time." I open my eyes, look at Talia. "But I don't think it will. She's smart. She knows what she's doing. And she has us backing her up, whether the Vipers know it or not."
Jackie sighs, and I hang up.
Talia looks at me with something like hope mixed with fear. "You're really taking me back?"
"I'm really taking you back." I climb on the bike behind her—every movement an agony that I'm getting very good at ignoring. "But first you're calling Killian. Telling him you're coming home. Telling him that the Raiders know where you are and who you're with and that there are conditions for this arrangement working."
"And if he refuses?"
"Then I keep you and they can try to get you back." I wrap my arms carefully around her waist, mindful of the ribs that aredefinitely broken. "But I don't think he will. I think he loves you enough to agree to almost anything to keep you safe."
She makes the call. I listen to her voice—steadier now, more certain—as she explains to Killian that she's coming back, that she's safe, that the Raiders know everything and this is the only way forward.
When she hangs up, she looks back at me. "He agreed. To all of it. The ceasefire. The conditions. Everything."
"Good." I start the engine. "Then let's get you home. Wherever home is now."
21
VALENTINA
The apartment looksdifferent with Xavier in it.
The same beige walls that have been pressing in on me for all these months somehow feel less oppressive when he's sprawled on my questionable couch with his wheelchair folded by the door and his legs stretched out in front of him in a way that suggests the physical therapy is working, that he's getting stronger even if he's not quite back to where he was. The same terrible TV with its underwater picture quality is showing Looney Tunes—actual Looney Tunes, like we're children instead of adults who've lived through more violence and grief than most people experience in a lifetime—and we're both laughing at Bugs Bunny outwitting Elmer Fudd for the thousandth time like this is normal, like this is something we do.
