Page 111 of Fallen Flame

I didn’t call him out.

I simply rested my cheek against Oliver’s chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear.

For one night, there was no stolen van.

No Northbound Reapers.

No one watching us from the dark.

There was only food, laughter, terrible cards, and the man holding me as if he had finally accepted that he was allowed to have something good.

Everything felt normal.

Better than normal.

It felt like home.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Oliver

The sharp vibration against the nightstand pulled me out of a dead sleep. For several seconds, I couldn’t make sense of where I was.

The room was dark, the curtains still drawn against the night. The only light came from the blue glow of the digital clock and the screen of my phone as it continued to buzz across the wood.

I reached blindly, nearly knocking it onto the floor before my fingers finally wrapped around it.

The screen lit up my face. 5:31 A.M.

A groan escaped before I could stop it. Nothing good ever happened at half past five in the morning.

People didn’t call before sunrise unless someone had died, someone was in the hospital... or Wrecker was calling.

My stomach tightened the second I saw his name.

Beside me, the mattress shifted. “What...” Lark mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

She pushed herself onto one elbow, rubbing at one eye while trying to focus on me. Her blonde hair was sticking up in every direction, hiding half her face. “You okay?”

“I don’t know.” I answered the phone. “Yeah?”

“Get dressed.” No greeting. No explanation. Just two words delivered in Wrecker’s calm, steady voice.

I sat upright. “What’s going on?”

A brief pause. “Church.” Another beat. “Now.”

The call disconnected.

I stared at the black screen for another second.

That wasn’t like Wrecker.

Even when things went sideways, he’d usually give you something.

A sentence. A clue. Anything.

This time... nothing.