Page 214 of Operation: Defiance

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Asher

Raine falls asleep before we reach the freeway. She doesn’t drift off slowly. One minute she’s white knuckling the edge of the center console at a stoplight, and the next, her head is tipped against the window.

I can’t see her eyes with the sunglasses perched on her nose, but before the light turns green, I note the steady rise and fall of her chest, and the lack of tension in her pale fingers.

She held it together until we reached the car. Barely. I half carried her down Fifth to University as her body started to fail.

She shifts in her sleep and makes a small sound that doesn’t belong in the light of day.

Fuck.

I reach over to rest my hand next to hers on the console. Not touching. Just close enough she can feel the heat of me. It seems to help. Her shoulders loosen, and she sighs.

We reach the bridge, and I curse under my breath. I never turned on the radio. Startling her is the last thing I want to do, but if she wakes to silence, that would be worse.

I keep the volume low, and thank fuck she doesn’t stir as I accelerate onto I-90. It’s early enough, the worst of rush hour hasn’t quite hit yet, but it’s still after four by the time I pull into the parking garage.

“Raine.”

She jerks up with a whimper, like someone set off a grenade under her seat.

“You’re okay. You’re not back there.”

Her eyes are glassy, bloodshot, and not quite focused. “Where⁠—?”

“We’re in the garage—at the safe house. No one followed us. Once we’re in the elevator, you can take off that damn hat.”

Her mind isn’t quite back yet. I can see it in the lag between my words and the tension in her shoulders easing. “Oh. Okay.”

“Stay right there. I’m coming around to get you.”

By the time I open her door, she’s struggling with the belt, her fingers not quite steady enough to work the button. “I’ve got it.”

She doesn’t argue, which might be the scariest thing that’s happened all day.

I brace a hand under her elbow to help her up. But the moment her feet hit the concrete, she sways and practically collapses into my arms. Irritation creases her brow, followed by confusion.

“I’m fine,” she says. I don’t argue. Parts of her are fine. The rest…

Everything she’s done—from that first shower to picking out clothes to choosing…me—has finally caught up with her.

The fluorescent lights in the elevator are too loud in the silence, so I take out my phone and start up the app we’ve been using for background music. Almost immediately, the tension in her body starts to ease.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she murmurs once we’re inside the apartment.

“You didn’t.” Gently, I ease the hat from her head. Her hair is damp at the temples. “You crashed. Hard.”

A faint frown crosses her lips. “But I’m not tired.”

“I know.” I take her hand without asking, then kick myself as she flinches—just briefly—before letting me guide her to the couch.

“I was fine. Until I wasn’t.” Her voice is softer now. Uncertain. “I should be able to trust my own body…”

I sink down close enough she can touch me if she wants to, and rest my elbows on my knees. “You walked through Pike Place at the busiest time of day. You confronted Claire. You convinced her to help you. Then you climbed one of the steepest hills in Seattle. That’s not nothing.”

The tremor is back in her fingers. “I feel…gone,” she whispers.