Page 62

Maggie pauses beside the dresser long enough to grab a bottle of prescription-strength dog shampoo. She studies it for a second, then tucks it into the suitcase beside the shelter paperwork.

I cannot help the faint smile that appears. Even now, she’s thinking about the animals before herself.

A few minutes later, Luka steps into the doorway. Viktor appears behind him.

“We should leave,” Luka advises.

I agree, though hearing it from him irritates me because I should have moved her out of this apartment already.

“We’re going,” I tell Maggie.

She looks around the room one last time. I recognize that look. She’s saying goodbye to something without wanting to admit it.

At the front door, Mr. Harrison waits in the hall, twisting his reading glasses between both hands. His face tightens when he sees Maggie carrying the suitcase.

“You leavin’, Miss Maggie?”

“For a little while,” she says, trying to sound composed.

The old man nods, though his eyes move over her face with open worry. “I’ll keep an eye on things till you come back. Don’t you worry about that. I’ll check the door every day.”

Maggie’s lower lip shakes before she gets it under control. “Thank you.”

I step forward and remove a business card from my wallet. “If you hear anything, see anything, or remember anything from today, call me directly.”

Mr. Harrison takes the card with both hands, looks at the number, then at me. He understands enough not to ask what kind of man gives an instruction that sounds more like an order than a request.

“I will.”

“Any hour,” I add.

“Yes, sir.”

Maggie watches the exchange, her bag strap sliding down one shoulder. I adjust it before she can, and her eyes lift to mine. She lets me help and that stays with me.

Viktor and Luka have already gone down to the street level. I keep my hand lightly against her lower back while we cross the hallway. The elevator arrives with a low chime. Maggie steps inside first. I follow her, and the doors slide shut behind us. For the first time since entering her apartment, the quiet leaves room for everything neither of us wants to think about.

Maggie's attention remains fixed on the glowing floor numbers above the doors while her fingers stay wrapped around the strap of her bag. The leather bends beneath her grip. Without a word, I lift the strap from her shoulder.

She turns toward me. “What are you doin’?”

“Carrying it.”

A faint crease appears between her brows. “I can carry my own bag.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to.”

I can almost see the argument forming behind her eyes. Then the fight drains away before it reaches her mouth. She releases a slow breath and lets me keep the bag.

The elevator reaches the lobby, and we make our way through the building before stepping into the humid evening air. Viktor takes the suitcase while Luka heads toward the driver's seat. A minute later, we're inside the SUV and pulling away from the curb.

I expect Maggie to stare out the window. Instead, she folds her arms across herself and lowers her head, retreating inward in a way that twists at something deep inside me. The woman beside me has spent days holding everyone else together. Ivy. Jules. The shelter volunteers. The animals. Even me. Now that there’s no one left demanding her attention, she finally looks like someone carrying too much.

Before I can reconsider it, I move closer. Not enough to crowd her, just enough that she knows I'm there.

Maggie's hazel-green eyes lift and meet mine. The look remains between us for a few heartbeats before she glances away again, but she doesn't create distance between us. She remains where she is, and I find myself relieved.

She rubs her eyes with the heel of her hands. “I hate this.”