Page 31 of The Rook’s Obsession

“One of them isn’t as vetted as you think,” I reply. “Or someone accessed the specs. Either way, they knew exactly what they were doing.”

I can hear him breathing while his fingers tap something hard. Probably his desk. No doubt he’s in his office, speaking quietly so he doesn’t wake Aurora. “I’ll find out who talked.”

“Quietly,” I warn. “If someone is feeding information to Vincenzo, we can’t afford to tip them off.”

“I know what I’m doing,” he snaps.

I force a slow breath and remind myself we’re on the same side before I have no choice but to snap back. “I know you do. I’m just saying, this changes things. If they found the cabin, they can find whatever comes next. We have to be careful about who knows where we are.”

“And where are you? Where are you headed?”

“South. I’ve got a place in mind,” I tell him. “It’s nothing connected to you or to me. A cash transaction. No paper trail.”

“How far?”

“Another couple of hours. I’ll check in with you once we’re settled.”

He pauses again, and it’s heavy. “How is she?”

She’s still staring through the windshield. If she’s aware I’m talking about her, she doesn’t show it. “Processing.”

“What does that mean?”

It means she found out the people she gave twelve years of her life to ordered her execution, and she’s dealing with it the only way she knows how. “This is a lot,” I settle for replying. It doesn’t feel right, talking about her like she’s not here. As far away as she seems, I have no doubt her training makes it possible for her to split her attention.

“Take care of her,” he urges.

“I will.”

It’s almost a relief to end the call. I can think more clearly without a voice in my ear. The highway stretches out ahead, empty and dark at one in the morning. We pass a sign for a town I’ve never heard of, then another. The miles add up, but still, she doesn’t move.

It’s roughly another hour before I pull off at a rest stop for gas and food. She gets out without saying a word, stretches, then walks to the convenience store attached to the gas station. I follow, keeping my distance, letting her go through the motions of choosing something to eat. She walks through the aisles like an aimless zombie, picking up a bag of chips, a protein bar, and a bottle of water like she’s going through the motions. I doubt she even sees what she’s choosing. I pick up more protein bars, energy drinks, and a wrap sandwich that looks fairly fresh.

It isn’t until she goes up to the register and realizes she’s not carrying money that she turns to me so I can pay in cash, just to be on the safe side.

After I’ve pumped gas, and we’re back in the car, she sets her water in the cup holder and opens her chips, then shoves one into her mouth and chews like she’s personally offended by it.

“Thank you,” I tell her.

She looks at me, and for a second, I think she’s going to say something. Her lips part, and there’s a sound in her throat, almost like the words are about to flow free before she cuts them off. It passes, and she looks away.

“For what?” she murmurs, talking to the window on her right.

“You fought with me tonight, at the cabin. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did. Remember? They were trying to kill me, too.”

“You could’ve run,” I reason. “It would’ve been the perfect opportunity to escape in all the chaos. But you stayed.”

She’s quiet for a moment before replying, “Don’t read into it.” She goes back to her angry chewing while I return to the highway, satisfied for now. I spoke my piece.

We drive for another two hours, in which time the landscape changes from thick forest to open fields. Eventually, we reach the outskirts of a small city I selected weeks ago as a fallback option. It’s far enough from Liam’s network to be untraceable, large enough to have options. It’s also small enough that any strangers with ill intentions will be easy to pick out. The hotel I’m heading for is on the edge of town, a mid-range chain with a parking lot wrapping around the back, out of sight from the road. I checked it out online when I was in the process of finding Laura, working my way through all the options, wanting to prepare for every possible situation. It has what I need: anonymity, and a back entrance that will keep the car out of sight from the road.

The woman behind the front desk is half-asleep at nearly four in the morning. There have been plenty of times when my work has left me feeling alone. Plenty of nights spent in the middle of nowhere, in a silent hotel room, living a solitary life. I don’t think I’ve ever been as bored and listless as the woman who checks me in, then goes back to trying to stay awake.

It’s a plain, standard room. Two beds and a bathroom. A window overlooking a pretty grim parking lot where raccoons raid the dumpster. I notice them in passing, sweeping the room out of habit. Checking the closet, the bathroom, behind the curtains.

Meanwhile, Ivy—I need to start thinking of her using that name, or else I’ll wake up with a knife in my chest—waits in the doorway. If she didn’t look so damn exhausted, she might look amused. A little.