Page 12 of Thexan

She shifted her stance but still did not pull away from me. The contact remained, her hand held within mine, the connection grounding the instability that threatened to rise again as my focus divided.

“You said they’re tracking you,” she said, her voice low enough that it would not carry through the door. “Would they be close enough to be on the ridge already?”

“Yes.”

“How fast would they move?”

“Faster than your people,” I said. “More quietly.”

Her gaze flicked toward the door, then back to me. I watched the calculation settle into place, the moment when possibility became probability in her mind.

“All right,” she said. “Then we assume they’re close, and we don’t do anything that draws attention.”

“That includes allowing another human into this space.”

“It also includes not acting like I’m hiding something.”

The logic was sound.

Humans relied heavily on behavioral cues. Any deviation from expected response patterns would raise suspicion. Suspicion would lead to investigation. Investigation would lead to discovery.

And discovery, in this case, would create a cascade of outcomes none of them were prepared to manage. Their presence was no longer a general threat. It was directed. Toward me. Toward her.

Brynn drew in a breath and shifted her weight, her hand finally beginning to withdraw from mine.

The effect was immediate.

The fragile stability I had maintained faltered, the disruption along my neural pathways returning with a force that tightened every muscle along my body. I controlled the response, but not entirely. A low, involuntary sound escaped me, more vibration than voice.

She stopped.

The relief was immediate.

I did not allow it to show.

She had already taken too much responsibility for my survival. If she understood how much her touch steadied me, she might remain because I needed it, not because she chose to.

I did not want that

“You see,” she said quietly. “That’s a problem.”

“Yes.”

“That means I can’t just leave you here and pretend everything’s normal.”

“No.”

“And I can’t let him in here and risk him seeing you.”

“No.”

She exhaled slowly, the sound controlled but carrying the weight of the decision forming behind it.

“Then I need to talk to him without him coming in.”

That would reduce immediate exposure.

It would not eliminate risk.