Page 20

The sheriff’s department was a madhouse.

Deputies were running around frantically, trying to organize the mob of people I assumed were witnesses to the shooting amassed in their small front lobby. Dawson forged a path through them, dragging me behind him with Tyson pulling up the rear. Together, we made our way to the secure doorway and were eventually buzzed in.

While we stood in the bullpen, Dawson’s phone started buzzing. He pulled it out, looked at the screen, then handed it to me. “It’s Gramps.”

I snatched it out of his hands. “Gramps!”

“Oh, Junebug, yer alright! I’ve been callin’ and callin’ but ya never answered, and yer mother and I have been worried sick.”

“I’m sorry! I left my phone in Dawson’s car—”

“Where are ya now? We’ll head right over.”

“I’m at the sheriff’s department, but I’m fine. Everything’s okay. They caught the guy, so I should be home soon.”

“Kylene!” Sheriff Higgins shouted over the din as he raced over to us.

“Gramps, I love you, but I have to go. Tell Mom—” I cut myself off, not knowing how to finish that sentence. “Tell her I’m glad she’s okay.” I hung up quickly, Dawson-style, before my emotions could get the better of me.

I handed the phone back just as the sheriff reached us. “Thank God you’re safe.”

“It looks like things here are under control now, so I’mma leave you guys to it.” Tyson gave me a quick side hug. “You know how I feel about cops. And I’ve got something I need to do.”

“Thanks, Coach…for everything.”

“Are you kidding me?” he replied with a wry smile. “That’s the most excitement I’ve had in years. I should be thanking you.” He held out his fist for me to bump. “See ya later, kid.”

Sheriff Higgins watched the former military man leave with narrowed eyes. “Let’s get you out of this mess, shall we?” he said as he led the way down the hall.

“You said you had a suspect in custody?” Dawson asked as we walked toward an interrogation room. I rubbed my wrists as I tried to calm my breathing and reminded myself that, this time, I wasn’t the one under arrest.

The sheriff opened the door to a small room with a one-way mirror and gestured for us to enter. “He’s in a holding cell. I’m going to go get him now. Stay here,” he said, cutting a sideward glance at Dawson. “I mean it.”

The fed’s lack of response seemed to be enough for Higgins, who slipped out into the hall, leaving Dawson, me, and my massive dress alone in the tiny space.

“We probably should have grabbed something else for you to wear at Tyson’s,” he said, eyeing the glittering sea of fabric encroaching on his personal space.

“Sweats don’t go with the tiara, though.” I dared a glance at him and found his shrewd gaze pinned on me. Surveying. Assessing. The weight of it made me squirm. “I’m fine, Dawson. It was a joke. Coping mechanisms, remember?”

“Your face was red when you got out of the car,” he said, looking away from me.

“I had a quiet little meltdown on the way over so I could get my shit together. It felt warranted, given the situation.”

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “It still is.”

“I’m fine, really. The initial shock has worn off. Now I just want to see who this asshole is.” I could sense his hesitation as he stood next to me in silence, and it ramped up my fight-or-flight in an instant. “What?” I demanded, folding my arms across my chest. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Because I’m weighing the pros and cons of what I’m about to suggest to see if I should bother.”

“Well, you kind of have to now, Dawson. The cat’s half-out of the bag.”

He turned his whole body to face me, and it felt like the room grew smaller in a blink. “I’m not sure you should watch this interrogation,” he said in a gentle tone. “Not because you can’t handle it, but you’ve been through enough tonight, and I’m not sure that watching this play out is going to benefit you.”

“This is closure, Dawson,” I said, leaning in so close our noses nearly touched, courtesy of the four-inch heels I was wearing and the lack of square footage in the dark voyeur closet. “Marco is dead, which means the AD is likely dead, which means he can’t send any more lackeys for me. This is the final one, so I want to see his face. I want to watch him squirm under the pressure of knowing he’s going to prison. And I want to see Higgins squeeze every ounce of information out of him until he’s a puddle of regret, quaking in that fucking chair.”

My breath was coming fast and ragged by the time my need for vengeance was fully realized, and my fists were balled at my side so tightly the fake nails were nearly drawing blood. Dawson stared at me, unmoving, until the warmth of his hands wrapped around mine as he slowly coaxed them open. His thumbs stroked my palms in a soothing cadence, and I felt the tension and bloodlust leave my body.

“I want to see that too,” he said, voice low and hoarse, “but there’s no guarantee it’ll happen.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but the creak of the interrogation room door swinging open garnered my attention. My head snapped to the mirrored glass in time to see the suspect marched into the room, hands cuffed in front of him. I knew his face instantly.

Fucking Earl, the hillbilly from Marco’s that threatened me during the whole Throwaway Girls investigation. And the smile on his face as the sheriff sat down across from him didn’t bode well for any of us.

“How ‘bout we make this easy, Earl, and you just go ahead and tell me what the hell went down tonight and why you did it, because you know we’ve got you dead to rights. I’ve got a mess of eyewitnesses in my lobby being interviewed by deputies, the gun that was still warm when we caught you, and as soon as we find that bullet, we’ll have forensics, too. It’ll be a slam dunk for the DA, and any chance you have at a deal will be long gone.”

The middle-aged man with unfortunate dental genetics smiled back at Higgins in challenge. “I don’t gotta tell you shit, Sheriff. I know my rights—”

“I highly doubt that,” I muttered to myself.

“ Know and understand are two different things,” the sheriff replied, reaching for the door, “and I’m about to test that theory.”

Before I realized what was happening, Dawson had busted into the hallway and directly into the interrogation room. “Cut the shit, Earl!” he shouted as he stormed the room, slamming his hand down on the table. He hovered over the cuffed prisoner like a harbinger of fuck around and find out. “Do you have any idea what kind of prison time you’re looking at for the crimes you committed tonight?” He shot a look at Higgins. “Care to break them down, Sheriff?”

“Well, we’ve got aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, reckless discharge of a firearm, and attempted murder. Those three tend to rack up prison sentences in the double digits.”

“And if served consecutively, that’s a big chunk of time, Earl, without chance of parole. How old are you now? Fifty? Fifty-five?”

“I’m forty-seven—”

Dawson sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Then I hope you like the idea of dying in prison, because I don’t think you’re getting out before that.” For the first time, Earl’s bravado cracked a little, and worry furrowed his brow. The fed saw it too, and leaned down closer to go in for the kill. “Do you think there’s a jury in this state or any other that won’t take one look at that beautiful blonde girl sitting on the stand telling her story and want to put you away for the rest of your life for endangering her—or anyone else in attendance? That girl is courtroom gold , Earl, and she’ll punch your ticket to Logan Hill so fast your head will spin.” Earl began to fidget in his seat, eyes down, avoiding Dawson’s stare and all the wisdom he was imparting. I leaned in closer to the mirrored glass, palms pressed flat against the cool surface as I watched in anticipation. “Tell us why you did it, Earl. Cooperation is your only path to leniency.”

The suspect sat there for a solid minute, staring at the metal table in front of him, and I nearly crawled out of my skin.

“I got a text,” he said as he lifted his gaze. “Some number I ain’t never seen before. It said if I was interested in making some quick cash to respond ‘yes’ for further instructions.”

“And what were those instructions?” Higgins asked as Dawson walked over to join him.

“I was to take a shot at the beauty queen by the grandstand during the parade.”

“Were you supposed to kill her?”

Earl shook his head. “Didn’t say so, just take a shot at her, so that’s what I did. I wasn’t tryin’ to hit her…just scare her a little—”

Dawson slammed his fists into the table so hard it screeched across the floor into Earl’s chest. “She’s been scared enough! And your claim that you weren’t trying to hit her means nothing . For all a jury knows, you're a piss-poor shot, and any good prosecutor will paint you as such.” I could see the tension in Dawson’s back as he slowly stood to full height. “Did you know the victim?”

Panic filled Earl’s eyes. “ Victim ? She’s still alive, ain’t she? I didn’t actually hit her, did I? Because I swear I didn’t mean to hit her—”

“Answer the question, Earl. Did you know her?”

“NO! Not really. We’ve had a run-in or two before, but that’s—”

“A ‘run-in’? What kind of ‘run-in’?”

“We’ve had words.”

“Publicly?”

Realization dawned in his expression. Maybe Earl was smarter than I thought. “Yes, sir.”

“And how do you think that’s going to look to a jury?”

“Listen, I swear on my mama’s grave that I had no intention of shootin’ that girl. I used my scope and everything so I didn't hit anyone.”

“Unfortunately, that just makes you look more guilty.”

“I swear it!”

“How were you paid?” Dawson asked as the suspect grew more frantic by the second.

“In cash,” he cried. “The cops took the envelope when they booked me. My phone, too. There ain’t nothin’ else I can tell you about the damn thing. I got the text. I picked up the cash behind the bleachers at the high school where they left it. I took a shot, then ran. That’s the whole story.”

“When?” Dawson asked. “When were you paid?”

“Today! Maybe a couple hours before the parade. I got a text tellin’ me where the drop would be, and I picked it up.”

Dawson’s hardened expression faltered for a second while I stumbled backward away from the mirrored glass.

“And there wasn’t anyone there? You didn’t see anyone?”

“No. Nobody.”

Dawson headed for the door without a word, and the second he stepped out into the hallway, I did too. He stormed toward me and guided me back into the observation closet. Once we were closed in together, he just looked at me, a strange mix of fury, frustration, and fear in his stormy gaze.

“Marco couldn’t have made the cash drop before the parade,” I whispered, scared to say those words out loud even though they rampaged through my mind like a raging bull. Because what they meant was too awful to acknowledge. “Not if he was in New Jersey.”

“No,” he replied, jaw flexing angrily, “he couldn’t.” His phone buzzed, cutting through the silence, and Dawson looked like he wanted to smash it against the wall just to shut it up. Instead, he answered it with a rather curt, “ WHAT ?”

“Is she safe?” Agent Franklin asked so loudly I heard it without the speakerphone on.

Dawson exhaled hard. “Barely. We have the shooter now, but what he told us points to Bellucci not being the AD.”

“Because he isn’t.” The apologetic tone of Dean’s voice did nothing to soften that blow. “Five minutes at the crime scene and I knew he wasn’t. It was too cut and dried—too easy. And once I realized that, the rest of the staging fell apart.”

“How?”

“The killing wasn’t mob-style. They’d have executed him after torturing him if it was retribution for ratting on the family. The pictures of Kylene in the room seemed like overkill. And then there was the burner—there wasn’t a print to be found on it.”

“Someone wiped it clean and planted it,” Dawson said, mulling over the possibility. “Someone wanted us to think it was Bellucci so we’d lower our guard.”

“Exactly.”

“How did you track Marco down?” I asked, suspicion niggling at the back of my mind.

“We got an anonymous tip.”

Ice slid down my spine. “I’ll bet we know who that was from.”

Rage flashed in Dawson’s eyes. “And we fell for it.”

“I’ll be in touch after I get the ballistics report and talk to the M.E., but he was killed by a professional, that much is clear. He took three bullets center mass like he was a target at the range.”

“Thanks for the update, Dean.”

“I wish I’d had better news.”

“I know.” Dawson cut the call and stared at me for a moment in silence. The AD was a step ahead once again, leaving us to chase behind him.

“I can’t believe he left his burner phone behind to frame Marco,” I finally said. “That seems risky.”

“Dean will go through it with a fine-tooth comb, but knowing this guy, he’s already scrubbed it of anything that could lead back to him.”

“You think he was the one to pull the trigger on Marco?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“Well, if he was, then who dropped the payment for that redneck?” I asked, jerking my thumb at the interrogation still going on in the adjacent room.

“It could have been anyone,” he replied, eyebrows pinched with thought.

“Earl said the cops took the envelope from him when he was arrested…”

“ Fingerprints ,” we said in unison as we headed for the booking area.

“Maybe the AD got sloppy with all the Marco business going on,” I said as we rushed down the hall, “or whoever he sent on his behalf.”

“We’re going to find out right now.” Dawson charged up to a deputy taking a statement and demanded Earl’s belongings.

The older cop looked too exhausted and overwhelmed to put up a fight and just walked over to the desk, unlocked the bottom drawer, and pulled out a box of bagged items. “Just make sure you wear gloves,” he said before walking away.

Good to know chain of evidence was taken seriously in that place.

Dawson rushed over to an empty desk in the corner and barked at some random deputy until printing dust and a brush appeared before us. He quickly gloved up, dipped the brush into the tin of black dust, and started twirling it across every inch of the paper. Multiple prints appeared, and I prayed that at least one of them wasn’t fucking Earl’s. Even if it was just another go-between, it would be a step in the right direction. A clue. A lead.

A chance to get closer to the AD.

Once Dawson finished, he managed to hunt down a receptionist and made her log into the fingerprint database. Earl’s prints came up on the screen and Dawson held up the envelope, scrutinizing every last loop and swirl with laser focus. I hovered over his shoulder with my heart in my throat and watched. Five minutes passed as he worked in silence—until he finally broke it.

“Dammit!” he shouted, slamming the envelope down on the desk. Head hung low, he fought to compose himself while everyone in the bullpen stared at the federal agent in their midst. “There’s nothing helpful—just Earl’s fingerprints. It’s another dead end." The frustration in his tone was palpable.

I crouched down next to him in a sea of teal and rested my hand on his arm. “It’s okay, Dawson. We knew it was a long shot—”

“It’s not okay, Danners,” he snapped, wheeling on me in a flash. “Nothing about this is fucking okay.”

“Agent Dawson,” Sheriff Higgins called, his voice teeming with warning. “A word.”

Without argument, Dawson stood and made his way over to the man calling the shots. The two disappeared down the hallway, and I wondered how long it would take for the shouting to start again. Before I got a chance to find out, a ruckus of a different kind altogether erupted when Garrett, Tabby, and Mark busted into the lobby, trying to find me. A deputy let them in right away—the perks of being the sheriff’s son—and they all hurried over to me.

“Ky!” Tabby squealed as the redheaded blur tackled me and hugged me for dear life until Garrett came over and peeled her off. Her tear-stained eyes stared back at me as she took stock of my well-being. “You’re okay!”

“If by ‘okay’ you mean ‘alive’, then yes. Totally good to go.”

She cracked a smile, then wrapped her lanky arms around me again and doubled down on her hug.

“Do I get one of those or am I just the chauffeur around here?” Garrett asked, pulling her away again so he could take her place. Though his hold was gentler and less frantic, it was clear that he didn’t want to let me go either.

“Is Maribel okay?”

“Yeah. She was way behind you in the parade. Jaime grabbed her in the chaos and took her home.” He held me tighter and whispered in my ear. “Was it the AD?”

I pulled away and nodded. “Most likely, but we can’t be sure.”

“When we saw you sitting up there, then heard the gunshots…” Tabby’s eyes welled with tears at what she’d witnessed that night. “I was so scared.”

“We all were,” Mark added.

“What is with Americans and guns?”

I pulled away from Garrett to face them all. “I’m pretty sure ammo runs in our blood.”

“Do we know anything about the shooter?” Mark asked as he looped his arm around Tabby’s shoulders to console her.

“We know that he was paid to take a shot at me, and we suspect it was the AD who arranged it. That’s the gist of it. No hard evidence so far.”

“Where’s Dawson?” Garrett asked.

“With your dad,” I said, looking past him toward the hallway with the elevated voices, “…having a chat.”

He grimaced as his father’s shouts echoed throughout the department. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Because it isn’t. Dawson lost his shit when the fingerprints on the shooter’s envelope of cash didn’t give us any leads. I think he’s at the end of his tether, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how much more of this he can take.”

“It has to be difficult to feel so useless when he cares so much about you,” Tabby said plainly.

“I’m sure he rues the day his career got entangled with me.”

She reached over and took my hand in hers. “I highly doubt that.”

Garrett looked back at the hallway full of shouting. “Should I go make sure they don’t come to blows?” he asked, genuine concern in his tone.

“Maybe? I don’t need Dawson getting arrested tonight.” I pushed past my friends, headed for the hallway, but Dawson rounded the corner first, face flushed with anger.

“I need to call Agent Wilson,” he said, stopping before me.

“Okay…let’s go call him, then.”

His gaze drifted to my friends, waiting in the background, then back to me. “I’m sorry... I shouldn’t have snapped like that.” The earnestness in his expression was hard to weather, and I just wanted it to go away at any cost.

“You were heated. I get it. Now, are we calling Wilson for retribution for the tongue-lashing you just got from Higgins, or…”

The slightest hint of humor tugged at the corners of his mouth. “No. I had that coming.” He pulled me into the only other interrogation room in the building and closed the door behind us, then dialed his boss.

“This is Wilson.” His harsh voice cut through the room on speaker.

“It’s Agent Dawson, sir.”

“Good. I just got off the phone with Agents Franklin and Jamieson, and they got me up to speed on everything, including the shots fired at the parade in Jasperville. What do we know about that?” Dawson filled him in on the situation while his boss listened intently. “That’s it,” Wilson said in a no-nonsense voice. “The AD is getting too close for comfort. It’s time for Plan B.” I liked nothing about the sound of that. “Where are you now?”

“At the sheriff’s department.”

“And Kylene is with you?”

“Yes, she’s right here.”

Wilson let out a breath. “Our first order of business is to get her to the safe house. I’ve had one ready to go since the last time we spoke, and I’ve done it off-book just in case there really is a leak—or multiple leaks—at the Bureau. We can’t afford to take any chances.”

“Who knows about the safe house?” Dawson asked, a wariness in his tone that I didn't love.

“For now, only you and I are privy to this impromptu witness protection situation,” he replied, irritation brimming in his tone. “I’m counting on you, Agent Dawson, to be Kylene’s security detail in lieu of a proper one. Given the circumstances, I’m reluctant to loop anyone else in.”

“Agreed, sir. I can handle it.”

“Good. I’ll message you the address where we can meet up so I can brief you on everything before we go to the actual location. I don’t want to discuss the details over the phone, and if the Bureau is indeed compromised, we can’t go there. I also want to make sure that none of us are tailed. This intermediate step should ensure everyone’s cover and safety. If this Advocatus Diaboli’s reach is as broad and high-reaching as you claim, we can’t afford him finding out where we have her stashed away.”

“Of course.”

“Keep your phone close. I’ll be in touch soon.”

The phone cut out, and silence hung heavy in the air. Though I knew Agent Wilson was right—that I had to go somewhere safe—my mind reeled with potentially horrible scenarios, all courtesy of the AD and his many minions. Anyone close to me might be in the crossfire if I stayed, but if I left, they would become something else entirely.

Leverage .

“I can’t go,” I said, panic rising within me.

“What do you mean, you can’t go?”

“I can’t leave them, Dawson. My friends, my family…the second I disappear, the AD will use them to smoke me out again. You know I’m right.”

“You can’t stay here, Danners. It’s just not possible anymore.”

“But—”

“Dammit, Kylene, if you stay here, you’re going to die, and you know it!” he shouted at me as he raked his hand through his hair. “You cannot ask me to stand by and watch that happen!”

“I’m not asking you to—”

“Yes, you are—”

“—but they’re my friends,” I continued, ignoring his desperate plea. “My family.” I choked on that final word—and the words that had yet to come. “I love them.”

He lunged at me, hazel eyes dilated and wild with fear and something even more compelling. “And I—” His words cut off as his breath came in ragged spurts.

“You what, Dawson?” I whispered as I inched toward him.

He turned and walked away, hands flexing at his sides while he inhaled deeply to calm himself. When he spun around to face me, the calm, cool fed I’d first met stared back at me. “I told you earlier, you are my only concern right now,” he said in an even tone without an ounce of the emotion I’d just witnessed. “My only obligation. And I can’t afford to let you down this time.” He walked back over to me, stopping well short of where I stood. “I need you to trust me. Please… ”

Everything in my body warred. My brain with my heart. My loyalty with my self-preservation. “Promise me that they won’t be left unprotected—that Wilson will help keep them safe—and I’ll do it,” I said, my tone thick with defeat.

“Done.”

“And I want to see my father before I go.”

“Danners—”

“I either see him or I stay. Those are my terms.”

The muscles in his jaw feathered. “Deal.”

I nodded in agreement. “Deal.”

We stood there for a moment, staring at one another like we had somehow become enemies once again over the span of minutes, and I had no idea why. But fear was a powerful thing—I knew that much—and I couldn’t help but think that it had dictated new terms to our partnership without either of us realizing it.

“You understand that once we officially leave, you can’t reach out to anyone you know, right?” he asked, taking my hand gently in his. “They’ll take your phone so no one can track it, but even if they give you a new one and you know their numbers, you can’t call them. Not Gramps. Not Garrett or Tabby. No one. The only person you can call is me, in the event I’m not with you for some reason, so I’ll need you to memorize my number. Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” I said, sniffling hard.

“Okay, then I’m going to need you to put on that brave face you’re so used to wearing and act as normal as you possibly can when we go back out there. Play the part, Danners. There’s too much at stake not to.”

He stood slowly, the metal legs of the chair dragging hard along the concrete floor. Then he pulled me to my feet at his side and looked at me for a long minute, narrowed eyes assessing something I was too tired to figure out.

“What?” I asked, irritation seeping into my voice. “Why are you staring at me?”

The corner of his mouth curled. “There it is.” Without further explanation, he dropped my hand and walked to the door. I followed, flustered and confused and wishing my life hadn’t taken such a ridiculous turn, but glad that we had a potential head start on the AD.

Or he knew exactly where I was and what we were planning, and we were about to play right into his hands. With psychopaths, one could never be certain.

“So what now?” I asked as we headed back into the melee.

“We need to get you home and ready to go. The second Wilson sends the meeting location, we’re out of here.”

“Wait,” I said, stopping short in the hallway. “What about seeing my dad first? You promised—”

“I did promise, and I’ll keep it, but I’d like to point out how dangerous the idea is.”

“It’s a federal prison—”

“Filled with dangerous felons—”

“Who are locked up in little cages, if I remember the concept of a prison correctly,” I argued, heat filling my cheeks. “We’re out of options, Dawson. And time. Maybe if he looks me in the eye while I tell him about this assassination attempt, he’ll crack.”

“Or he won’t.”

“Yeah, maybe, but at least I’ll get to say goodbye before I fall off the face of the earth for God knows how long.” Tears welled in my eyes at the thought. “The AD is taking so much from me already…my friends, my senior year, and my family. Let me have this, Dawson. Please.”

His jaw flexed hard as he contemplated my request. “If we do this, nobody can know. We already suspect the warden is shady, and I don’t want to put that theory to the test, so we get in and get out as quickly as possible. Then it’s pack your shit and go time.”

“Agreed.”

He still stood there staring at me like he already regretted a decision he hadn’t even made yet. “Can you say goodbye to your friends without falling apart?”

No . “Yes…I can do that.”

“Then let’s get this over with before I change my mind.”

Together, we walked over to where the sheriff stood with my trio of friends, and I dug my fingernails into my palms to try and hold it together. “Hey guys, Dawson and I need to get out of here,” I said, fluffing my dress around me. “I don’t think Bella’s is going to be too thrilled about the state of their loaner, and I don’t want to make it any worse.”

“Okay,” Tabby said, coming over to hug me. “See you tomorrow?”

“Sure thing.” How easily that lie rolled off my tongue as I turned to Garrett. His furrowed brow had me sweating in an instant.

“Everything okay, Ky?”

“I mean, no, but yes? I just need to get out of this dress and get some sleep.” At least that was the truth—in part.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?”

I swallowed back my emotions. Hard. “Always.”

“We need to go, Danners.”

“Coming,” I said, walking over to Dawson as I waved over my shoulder at my crew. “I love you guys.”

“Love you too,” they called back in unison as we walked through the lobby door. I could feel their eyes on my back as we made our way to the main entrance, and it was all I could do not to run. The second the cold night air assaulted me, I broke down. Dawson’s hand rested gently on my back, but I pulled away from it, too overwhelmed for contact, even the reassuring kind.

We climbed into Sheriff Higgins’ SUV and rode back to the lot where Dawson had parked his car for the parade. It sat alone in what had been a sea of cars.

“We’ll be guarding Gramps’ house. I don’t want you to worry, Kylene. You’ll be safe there.”

I appreciated his sentiment, even if it couldn’t have been less true. “Thanks, Sheriff. That means a lot.”

“I’ll see you back there soon, then.”

Dawson rounded the SUV to help me down in my ruined dress and led the way to his car. “You’re sure you still want to do this?” he asked, uncertainty in his tone.

“I am.”

He opened the passenger door. “Then get in.”

I realized in that moment just how ride-or-die Dawson and I had become, because it was clear in every way that he wanted nothing to do with my plan, and yet there he was, ready to see it through regardless. My feet were moving before I fully realized what I was doing, stopping only inches away from the young fed whom I couldn’t have hated more when we first met. I pressed up onto my toes and kissed his cheek lightly. “Thank you…”

Without waiting to see his reaction, I quickly folded my body and that ridiculous gown into his car and shut the door while he stood outside, unmoving. Embarrassment flooded my cheeks when I finally felt the weight of what I’d done, but it was too late to take it back. After a moment, he walked around the car, his footfalls in sync with the pounding in my chest, and opened the door. He slipped into the driver’s seat, fired up the engine, and put the car in drive.

“Seatbelt,” he said as he stared out at the darkness. “I haven’t worked this hard to keep you alive for nothing.”

A tiny laugh escaped me. “It would be a bit anticlimactic to survive multiple attempts on my life only to die in a car crash because I wasn’t wearing one.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.”

“You’d miss having me around, even if it earned you your freedom from all this.”

The steering wheel creaked under his grasp. “ Seatbelt ,” he repeated as he pulled out onto the road. The tension in his body made me jump, and I fastened myself in as quickly as I could.

We were headed to Logan Hill and my final Hail Mary to leverage my father into telling us something that might help.

Maybe an assassination attempt and me disappearing into WITSEC forever would be enough to do just that.