Page 77 of Beneath the Surface

“You need sleep too.”

“I’ll sleep when you do.”

Quinn wanted to argue, but she was so tired. Bone-deep exhausted. And knowing Dax was there, that she wasn’t alone...

She closed her eyes and let herself drift.

***

Morning came too soon.

Quinn woke to find her grandmother awake, those blue eyes clearer than they’d been in days.

“Gran.” Quinn sat up quickly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Her grandmother’s voice was stronger. “More myself.”

It was true—some color had returned to her cheeks, and when she squeezed Quinn’s hand, there was real strength there.

“You’re rallying,” Quinn said, relief flooding through her.

“Mmm. Stubborn old woman.” Her grandmother’s smile was faint but real. “Nathan told me about Portland. About your father’s video.”

“I can stay. I don’t have to—”

“Go.” Her grandmother cut her off gently. “Finish this. Your father needs you to finish this.”

“But—”

“I’ll still be here when you get back. I promise.” Her grandmother’s eyes found Dax, who’d just appeared in the doorway with coffee. “You’ll protect her?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said without hesitation.

“Good.” Her grandmother settled back against the pillows. “Then go. Both of you. Get that video. End Wheeler once and for all.”

Quinn leaned down and kissed her grandmother’s forehead. “I love you, Gran.”

“I love you too, Quinn. So very much.” Her grandmother’s hand touched Quinn’s cheek. “Your father would be so proud of you. I’m so proud of you.”

Tears pricked Quinn’s eyes, but she blinked them back. “I’ll be home tonight. Tomorrow morning at the latest.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

***

An hour later, Quinn and Dax were in his truck, heading west toward Portland. The sun was just rising, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold.

Quinn stared out the window, her father’s letter folded in her pocket, the key to box #2847 clutched in her hand.

“She seems better,” Dax said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah.” Quinn wanted to believe it. Wanted to think her grandmother would be there when they got back, that she’d rally and recover and have more time.

But she’d seen enough death to know—sometimes people rallied right before the end. One last burst of clarity and strength before they slipped away.

Please,Quinn prayed to whatever god might be listening.Please let her hang on just a little longer. Just until I get back.

Dax’s hand found hers across the console, and Quinn held on tight.