Page 29 of Double Down

Zeus’s nails tick once on the wood and then quiet when he hits carpet. He sniffs everything curiously, his tail wagging furiously. I lay his blanket down beside the long window and he circles three times because ritual is good for some people and apparently my new dog. He sighs and drops, stretching one paw to touch my foot.

I put a hand on the glass and look down at the river. Somewhere past all that black is Dock C, a row of doors, and Storage 14.

And a man who wants me to pay an impossible debt.

“One day, Firebird.” Maverick steps behind me and presses his body against mine. Not sexually, supportive. “One day, I’m going to know all your secrets. But tonight you should get some rest. Zeus here looks good, and I’m sure we’ve got another long ass day to come.”

He kisses the top of my head and then leaves me there alone with my thoughts and Zeus.

I set my phone down on the coffee table, where the screen immediately comes to life with another text.

Unknown

Clock’s ticking.

I kneel and take the puppy’s face in my hands and breathe warm dog smell and absolute trust, the kind that doesn’t requirepaperwork. I never get trust without a contract. It’s new. It’s wrong. It’s mine.

“Quiet,” I whisper. “You’re my secret, remember? At least until after the rest of them have had some sleep.”

He thumps his tail once, a soft muffled sound against the carpet.

I should go to Atticus. Show him the texts, the email, the whole leash they’re pulling. He would make a flowchart and a firewall and a plan. I should wake Storm and tell him to hold me down before I go running at something with teeth. I should climb back into Conrad’s bed and say his name like I mean it and watch him try not to mean it back.

I do none of those things.

I can hear them in the hall of my head anyway.

Conrad’syou’re a liability.

Atticus’sif I know, I have to report.

Storm’s knife quiet on the table, the blade a hymnal only he knows the words to.

Maverick’s laugh when he turns a problem into a party.

Clock’s ticking.

They would call this choice reckless. I call it math. If I tell them, it becomes evidence. If I keep it to myself, it’s just paper and a dead man’s shame. Paper burns and shame lives forever.

I fold my body onto the end of the couch with my feet tucked under and the dog against my calves. The suite breathes with us. I close my eyes and map the walk to Dock C in my head, stepby step. Elevator. Hall. Loading bay. Ramp. Ten minutes to get there.

Not tonight.

Tonight, I will keep the only things that belong to me. My truth and my secrets are all I own.

I try to breathe through the rising panic.

In for four. Hold. Out for six.

By the time the first smear of morning rubs at the river and the sky does that cheap trick where it says it might be gentle today, I’m back under Conrad’s comforter, hair damp with window-cold, dog curled on his blanket by the glass where no one will trip over a secret, and my hand tucked under the pillow around a phone that pretends to be asleep.

Conrad’s arm finds me by muscle memory and pulls me close like he always does. His breath touches the back of my neck like a future I don’t trust. I make my breathing slow. Even. Innocent.

One-two-three.I count in my head.One-two-three.

Somewhere below, Dock C waits open-mouthed and ready to snap.

I keep my mouth closed and swear that Maverick is wrong. All my secrets die with me.