Page 8 of Make Them Pay

But with Render beside me, it feels like a beginning. And despite everything, my stupid heart notices how good he looks in the glow of the screen and how steady his shoulder is just inches from mine.

It’s definitely a beginning.

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Morning light slips through the cabin window in thin gray slices, and I’m already awake. I never actually fell asleep.

Enley’s sleeping now, really sleeping this time. Not the careful act she put on last night when she slipped out of bed and headed for the go-bag like she might vanish into the dark. I don’t blame her for trying. I probably would’ve done the same thing, only faster. But she stayed. She laid out her conditions and sat on that hard floor and chose to be here with me. That choice means more than any lock I could’ve put on the door.

She’s curled on her right side with one hand tucked under the pillow and the other resting palm-up on the mattress. The raw marks on her wrists look worse in the pale morning light. They’re red and angry. Her breathing’s slow and deep, and the tight, guarded look she wore all night has softened. In sleep she looks younger, closer to the girl who used to show up at the loft with takeout bags and strong opinions about everything.

I let myself look for only a few seconds. Then I get up, fold the blanket, and start the day.

I step outside into air that smells like wet pine and cold earth. I walk a wide circle around the cabin, checking for any sign that someone found us overnight. Nothing. Just our own tire tracks from yesterday, already softening in the dew. The tree canopy is thick enough that a satellite pass wouldn't pick up the car even without the pine branch overhang. We’re as invisible as two people can be out here.

Back inside, I light the little gas burner and set water heating in an old pot. No coffee, but hot water with a protein bar beats the cold version, and I’ve learned to appreciate small comforts.

I pull out the laptop and set it on the scarred wooden table. While the water heats, I get our connection going. It’s not simple, but I keep it straightforward. Layers that make sure no one can trace us back here. I check the emergency lines first.

Dean’s main channel is silent. So are the backups. One of them has a short message waiting from twelve hours ago. I open it.

The crew is compromised. Six of them are being held. We don’t know the exact location yet. Knight got away. The rest of the support teams are scattered. Regroup protocol is in effect.

Knight made it out. That’s something. He’s the most disciplined of us, and if anyone could slip away when the others were caught, it’s him. The ALPHA and BRAVO teams being scattered means we’re all in survival mode right now.

I send a quick reply. Failsafe active. Package secure.

Then I open a private line to Knight.

You alive?

His answer comes after a short wait. Took a graze. Nothing serious. I’m in a safe spot south of the city. Saw them load the crew into two black SUVs heading north. They have six. Poe, Arrow, Gage, Ozzy, Orchid, and Lark.

My stomach drops at Lark’s name. She’s Knight’s person, the way Enley is… something I don’t have a word for yet. Knight doesn’t show feelings the way most people do, but knowing Lark is locked up somewhere has to be tearing him apart inside.

I type back. Enley’s with me. I got her out last night. She’s bruised but okay.

Good, he replies. Poe will need to know that when we get them out.

When. Not if. That’s Knight.

I send him details for a dead drop where I can leave updates and close the line. Then I start pulling together everything we know so far about Serafina’s operation.

I hear the mattress springs shift behind me and know Enley’s awake before she says anything. There’s a different kind of comfort when someone’s watching you.

“How long have you been up?” she asks. Her voice is rough with sleep, and it does something low and warm to my chest that I try to ignore.

“A while.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“Since before dawn.”

She gets up and moves to the kitchenette. I hear her check the hot water and dig through the go-bag for the protein bars. She doesn’t ask permission. She moves through the small space like she already belongs here, and something about that confidence makes the corner of my mouth twitch.

She pulls the second chair over to the table and sits down with her breakfast. Her eyes go straight to the laptop screen. I don’t hide anything. She asked for full honesty. She gets it.