Page 92

OSCAR

Three daysof watching Vesper unravel at Talon’s hospital bedside, and all I can think is that we're losing her faster than she lost Alex. Then we all lost Alex. Z has kept them both safe while I plan our next move. With Alex gone, our backdoor into tracking The Collector went with him. I have no idea how deep his trap was set. We can’t risk going back to our place in Boston. Our only choice is one of our safe houses until I know how much The Collector knows.

Vesper sits quietly in Talon’s now empty hospital room.

“The car's packed. We need to move.” I keep my voice steady as I zip up the duffel bag of supplies for Talon’s wounds that I nicked from a storage room. She hasn't slept more than two hours at a time since Talon told her what happened. Her skin has taken on an alarming pallor that makes my chest ache every time I look at her.

“Solnishko, we need to go.”

She blinks slowly. “What?”

“The safe house,” I remind her, trying to keep the worry from my voice. “Remember? We talked about this.”

She nods mechanically, but I can tell the information isn't really registering. This vacant shell of Vesper terrifies me more than her tears or rage ever could. At least anger would be something to work with—something alive and burning.

“Where's Talon?” she asks, the first unprompted question she's offered all day.

“Z's helping him into the car.” Her eyes drift toward the door, then back to me, that unsettling vacancy still present. “What about Alex?”

My heart constricts painfully. She's asked this same question a dozen times since it happened. Each time, the answer destroys her anew, as if she's hearing it for the first time.

“Solnishko...” I begin, the endearment catching in my throat.

“No,” she interrupts. “Don't say it again. I know. I know.” She presses her fingertips against her temples. “He's gone. I just...keep forgetting. Or hoping I dreamed it.”

I rise, pulling her gently to her feet. Her body follows mine without resistance.

“The Coast Guard is still searching,” I tell her, though we both know what they're searching for now. Not a survivor, but remains. “Lieutenant Wilson promised to call if they find anything.”

Vesper nods again, that mechanical motion that's become her default response. We make our way down the hospital corridor in silence, her steps faltering occasionally. The doctors wanted to admit her for exhaustion, but we couldn't risk staying any longer. Not with The Collector's people potentially tracking us.

Outside, Z has the car idling near the entrance, Talon slumped in the back seat, pale but alert. He's still weak, his left arm in a sling, but the doctors cleared him for discharge as long as he follows the strict wound care instructions.

“How is she?” he mouths to me over Vesper's head.

I give a slight shake of my head. No change.

Z exits the driver's side, moving to help me settle Vesper into the back seat beside Talon. She goes without protest, her body collapsing against the leather. Talon immediately draws her against his side with his good arm. She curls into him with a small, broken sound that tears at something vital inside me.

“I've got you, princess. I've got you.”

Z’s stare catches my own. We've seen Vesper hurt, angry, terrified, but never filled with this hollow emptiness that seems to be consuming her from within.

“How long to the safe house?” I ask as we slide into the front seats.

“Three hours if we take the coastal route,” Z replies, pulling smoothly away from the curb. “Two and a half if we cut inland.”

“Coastal,” I decide. “Less surveillance, fewer potential recognition points.”

Z nods, adjusting our course. The hum of tires against asphalt fills the silence as we leave Newport behind. My eyes flicker to the rearview mirror every few minutes, tracking Vesper's reflection. She's curled against Talon, her face pressed into his neck.

“Any trace on Alex's backdoor protocols?” Z asks quietly, his voice pitched low enough that the two in the backseat can't hear.

I shake my head. “Nothing. Whatever he built, it died with him.” The words taste bitter on my tongue. “He was the only one with all of the access codes.”

“Fuck. So we're flying blind.”

“Not completely blind,” I counter, pulling out my phone to check for the hundredth time if there's any update from my contacts. “But our vision is severely limited. Alex was ten steps ahead of everyone. We're lucky if we're one step ahead now.”