Page 103 of Beneath the Surface

Quinn’s back ached. Her eyes burned. Her fingers were stiff from typing.

And she felt more alive than she had in weeks.

“Let me just finish this chapter—”

“Quinn.” Nathan’s voice was firm but kind. “Food. Then you can get back to it.”

Quinn saved her work and stretched, her spine crackling. “Okay. Yeah. Food.”

Nathan ordered pizza—a small act of normalcy that felt almost decadent after a week of the same rotation of cabin groceries. They ate at the kitchen table, and Nathan talked about his day, about Torres and the protection detail, about mundane things that had nothing to do with murder or fear or danger.

It was nice.

Almost normal.

Quinn was halfway through her second slice when Nathan’s phone buzzed.

He glanced at it, his expression shifting. “It’s Torres. I need to take this.”

“Go ahead.”

Nathan stepped into the living room, his voice low. Quinn couldn’t make out the words, but she could hear the tone shift—professional to concerned to tense.

When he came back, his face was carefully neutral.

“What?” Quinn asked.

“Wheeler left his house.”

Quinn’s stomach dropped. “What? The ankle monitor—”

“He’s wearing it. It’s active. But he left about twenty minutes ago. Drove to his lawyer’s office.” Nathan’s jaw was tight. “Legal visit. Perfectly within his bail conditions.”

“But?”

“But the timing’s suspicious. Torres wants to increase your security. She’s sending another agent—”

“No.” Quinn set down her pizza. “No more agents. No more people watching me. I already have you. That’s enough.”

“Quinn—”

“Nathan, I just got out of one cage. I’m not walking into another.” Quinn’s voice was firm. “Wheeler visiting his lawyer isn’t a crime. And we don’t even know if it has anything to do with me.”

“Your book. The news coverage that’ll follow.” Nathan looked at her seriously. “Wheeler knows you’re not backing down. That you’re going to publish your father’s story. You think he’s just going to sit back and let that happen?”

Quinn’s hands clenched on the table. “So what’s your plan? Lock me in a safe house like Clara? Give me a new identity? Make me disappear?”

“I’m just saying we should be cautious—”

“I’m being cautious. You’re here. The doors are locked. I’m not going anywhere.” Quinn met his eyes. “But I’m also not going to stop living my life because Wheeler drove to his lawyer’s office.”

Nathan looked like he wanted to argue. But after a moment, he nodded. “Okay. But I’m doing a perimeter check. And tonight, I’m sleeping on the couch. Not the guest room.”

“Fine.”

After Nathan went outside to check the property, Quinn sat at the kitchen table and tried to calm her racing heart.

Wheeler was moving. Making plays.