Page 69

I've spent enough time around this city to recognize the look. Two men spotting someone who shouldn't be alone down here and deciding to see how easy a target he might be.

Why the fuck did you come out here alone?

Does he really not see it? The first one holds position under the arch instead of moving on. The second shifts deeper in instead of backing off. The alley narrows just enough to trap him once he's three steps in and too far committed to turn fast.

Or does he see enough to know this is wrong and keep going anyway, still chasing whatever dragged him out of bed and into the lower district like it matters more than his own damn safety?

That's the part that gets to me. Not just that the wrong people were paying attention, but that Rowan keeps moving, stepping deeper into the alley with that satchel clutched at his side, completely unaware he's about to learn why people don't come down here alone.

I bring the bike in fast, the black frame gliding over wet pavement, and brake hard enough to make the rear stabilizers hiss.

Rowan jerks back, startled, his coat snapping in the downdraft as I cut across the mouth of the alley and block it clean. His eyes go wide when he sees me. "What the⁠—"

"Get on."

Shock hits first. Then his whole face tightens like I've ripped something out of his hands. "No."

He tries to step around the bike, but I shift with him, cutting him off again. "Rowan."

"No. Move!" His voice comes out sharper than I expect, breathable with anger, with something worse underneath. "Move, damn it."

He looks past me into the alley instead of at me, craning for whatever he thinks he's about to lose. That alone tells me everything I need to know.

"There are two men in that alley looking at you like you're easy prey. Which means that you're not going in there."

"What? You don't know that."

I snort. "I know enough."

"You don't get to decide this."

He tries to shove past the front end of the bike, one hand catching the handlebars as he forces his way around me before I can stop him, and for one insane second he's about to choose the trap over listening to me.

Behind him, under the arch, the first shadow shifts. Farther in, the second one starts moving, slow now, like they've decided the window is closing.

"Rowan."

"I'm not leaving." His voice cracks around the words, anger and desperation tangling so tight I can hear the truth in it. "I'm not walking away when I'm this close."

That lands harder than it should.

He means it. He came all the way down here alone, into a district that would swallow him whole without blinking, and he still thinks the worst thing that can happen tonight is missing whatever answer he came for.

The danger behind him is moving faster now, closing the distance one careful step at a time, and I know we've just run out of room for this argument.

Well, I'm done fucking asking.

So I grab him. One hand fisting in the front of his coat, the other locking around his wrist before he can twist free, I haul him hard against the side of the bike. He gasps, furious, shoving at my chest, trying to wrench away even as I drag him close enough to feel how fast he's breathing.

"Let go of me⁠—"

"Helmet."

"Are you insane?"

"Probably." I jam the spare helmet at his chest. "Put it on."

He doesn't. Of course he doesn't. He's still fighting me, trying to look past my shoulder into the alley, tracking movement in the dark like he can still salvage this if he gets one more second.