This time I let him.
The pull spins me halfway around, and Rook drags me toward him. His free hand comes up toward my face.
I slam both palms into his chest. “Come on.”
He does.
Exactly what I need.
I retreat another step, and Rook advances. The chamber mirrors multiply him until beaked faces surround me. His breathing has gone ragged. The polished broadcast voice is gone.
“You think a camera changes anything?”
“No, I don’t.”
Another step.
He follows.
“You think Mercer can save you?”
I leave the question unanswered.
His hand reaches for me.
I move just beyond it.
“Owen?” I call.
Rook snaps toward the mirrors.
There is no visible Owen, only his own reflections.
I smile.
Rook whips back toward me. “You needed all three of them.”
“No, I didn’t.”
My heel finds the maintenance rope.
There it is.
Rook comes closer, too close, and his hand closes around my jacket.
I look past his shoulder, not toward Cade yet.
Rook pulls me against him.
The scratched beak fills my vision.
“You should have stayed inside the story.”
I feel the rope beneath my boot.
I look directly at Rook.
Then I step backward across it.