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R ebecca, Maxwell, Leonard, and Whit hovered in silence as the worst of what everyone had already expected was now officially confirmed.
Leonard folded his arms, unfolded them, shoved his hands into the pocket of his trench coat, then removed them again, his gaze flickering back and forth between Whit and Shade’s Head of Security.
He didn’t seem to notice Rebecca watching his nervous fidgeting until she asked, “Anything else we should know?”
The mage jumped before looking up at her. “No. Not that I know of. It’s just… Shit, Knox. This is really bad, isn’t it?”
“That’s one way to put it,” she muttered.
“But it’s not entirely hopeless,” Maxwell added. “Nor are we entirely helpless.”
That was true, in the most bare-boned sense, but his words didn’t seem to offer a reassuring effect.
Just another reminder of their situation.
“Anything else you want us to get started on?” White asked.
Maxwell shook his head. “Not yet. Stand by.”
With a nod, the warlock turned slowly away to rejoin the others.
Neither them had technically been dismissed, but Leonard pulled away as well, stepping off to the side before glancing back at Rebecca and Maxwell one more time. He almost looked like he was about to add something, but then he turned fully around and disappeared among the other scattered groups waiting for direction.
Rebecca still hadn’t thought of anything.
The loss of physical supplies, tech, gear, inventory, and weapons was just another blow on the list. It could all be recovered eventually, but what they really needed was more contacts and network resources. Someone, somewhere, they could turn to for aid. Obviously, that would have been best.
But Rowan and his Hakalini’ir had ripped that rug out from under them even before it became a critical necessity.
Still, Maxwell was right. Shade wasn’t completely helpless. There was still hope for getting them out of here and somewhere safe.
They just had to find it first.
Rebecca turned slightly toward Maxwell, gazing across the remnants of the compound and their task force reduced to refugees.
“I don’t know anyone else in Chicago,” she murmured, lowering her voice. “Not anyone I trust who can actually help us.”
“Our options have become significantly limited,” he grumbled.
There was that burning tingle of his gaze flickering her across her face again, but she didn’t even have the chance to look back up at him.
“Knox!” Diego jogged toward her, followed by Burke and Shell, all of them weary and haggard and desperate to help find a solution as quickly as possible. “Got a few ideas to run by you guys. It’s not a hell of a lot, but we’re obviously grasping at straws here, right?”
“Let’s hear it anyway,” she said.
“I was thinking about Underdark,” Shell began. “The bar? You know, that we found out about Big Boss and the magitek-bomb guys because one of ours got the owner to hand over their surveillance footage, right? So, you know, that’s one ally there, at least.”
“It would be.” Rebecca folded her arms. “If we didn’t have to stay hidden. Word will spread eventually that we were attacked here. That we got forced out. And we’ve still got Harkennr to think about, plus the higher-ups who ordered the attack on the dome. There’s definitely more where that came from.”
Burke grimaced. “And Underdark isn’t exactly the first place I’d go for a well-kept secret. Kinda the opposite, honestly.”
He and Diego shared a look, then the Cruorcian snorted and reached up for the brim of his baseball cap he’d already forgotten was no longer there.
“Okay, sure,” Shell added, “but we know that’s not the only magical-friendly bar or business in Chicago. There are tons of others, not including the ones we already knew that… Well, the ones that don’t exist anymore. Obviously…”
The troll woman clenched her eyes shut, quickly shook her head, then started over. “What I’m saying is there’s gotta be other places out there willing to offer help where it’s needed.”
“With enough room and resources to support all of us?” Rebecca asked. “Almost a hundred magicals bringing a whole lot of trouble behind them if anything goes wrong?”
“Those are civilian networks,” Burke added, shaking his head. “I’d be surprised if any of them were remotely equipped to handle what even a quarter of us would need.”
Whatever the others said next as the conversation continued, Rebecca didn’t hear.
Acute pain, like fiery blades stabbing through her chest and pulling out again in a single direction, made it impossible to focus on anything else.
The pain of Maxwell leaving her side and slipping away.
Gritting her teeth and trying not to draw attention to her discomfort, she turned in the direction of that sharp, bitter pain and searched for him.
For the first time she could remember, she couldn’t immediately find him among the others.
As if he were intentionally hiding from her…
But he wouldn’t, would he? He had no viable reason to do so, and she had no viable reason to suspect that of him now.
She’d literally just confirmed he really was on her side.
So why did she feel like another devastating bomb was about to drop at any second, with Rebecca as the primary target?
“Knocks?”
She turned back toward the three operatives who’d clearly assumed she’d been actively engaged in the conversation.
They all stared at her with varying degrees of concern.
“You good?” Diego asked, his crimson-glowing eyes narrowing. “I mean, besides the obvious.”
Rebecca cleared her throat. “Yeah.”
“Well?” Shell asked. “What do you think?”
“Canvassing magical non-profits?” Rebecca muttered absently. “Still not an option. That’ll put us back on the map, not take us off it.”
Apparently, a part of her still had been listening, but the bulk of her focus and conscious awareness went right back into searching for Maxwell.
The pain of him walking away from her had settled into a dull, background ache, so at least he wasn’t trying to sneak farther away. But why wouldn’t he have said anything to her about it first if he—
There.
She found him again, on the other side of their scattered operatives, between the far end of the compound’s entrance and the edge of the enormous crater in the asphalt, standing alone.
No, not alone. He gazed downward at something she couldn’t see until Titus lumbered unknowingly out of the way and gave her a clear view.
Bor stood there with Maxwell, off to the side for a private conversation. The giveldi swept a constant, scrutinizing gaze across the parking lot, as if he’d been assigned to keep an eye on everyone from afar. His mouth moved in the longest speech Rebecca had ever seen the old cook give.
And as Bor spoke, Maxwell’s posture visibly hardened, his body growing rigid.
She felt the shifter’s effort in masking his reactionary expressions from Bor—and likely his internal reactions from Rebecca too.
But when he muttered a reply, something short and to the point, the anger erupting across the old giveldi’s face was unmistakable.
Bor’s scowl darkened as he stared up at the shifter and slammed the butt of his staff into the fractured and crumbling asphalt at his feet.
Maxwell stony mask of apathy remained, but after a few more exchanged words, both the shifter and the old giveldi looked up across the parking lot together.
And directly at Rebecca.
Her entire awareness narrowed into one horrifying moment of suspended realization, her gut twisting as she scrambled for an explanation as to why they would both stare at her like that. Plus all the varying possibilities with any number of unknown variables for how she was supposed to deal with it, if her initial hunch proved true.
Because she couldn’t help feeling like she’d done something horribly wrong. Like the pain and anger and indignation flashing in Maxwell’s eyes and the disapproval etched across Bor’s ancient face meant they blamed her for something.
That they were ganging up on her, even. Moving against her.
That was exactly what this looked like.
If it had come from anyone else, she wouldn’t have hesitated to acknowledge it for what it was before planning her next move to deal with it.
But this was Maxwell and Bor, for crying out loud. Two people she knew she could trust.
Oh, shit.
Had she been wrong?
Had she misread everything she’d felt in Maxwell, because that was what he’d wanted her to feel when he’d still been playing her the whole time?
The thought was so alarming, it froze her blood in her veins and made anything else utterly impossible.
Had she just made the deadliest, most costly mistake of her entire incredibly long life in deciding Maxwell was exactly who he told her he was?
Bor grumbled something else, digging the butt of his spear into the asphalt and grinding it angrily back and forth.
Rebecca still couldn’t hear what he said, but it had to be something awful.
A second before Bor finished speaking, the color drained from Maxwell’s face as he stared at Rebecca.
He’d just heard something terrible enough and terrifying enough to make him look that physically ill, and Rebecca cursed their fucking connection and everything she’d wanted to let herself feel for Maxwell Hannigan, despite all her misgivings.
Because now, it looked like it didn’t even matter.
Now it looked like she’d been a fucking idiot for letting her guard down and feeling anything for him beyond doubt and suspicion and the unyielding hyper-vigilance of keeping her secrets and all their dangers from everyone and everything.
She’d been so sure she could trust him. But if that were true, why did this feel like she’d just walked into an even deadlier trap than the one Rowan and his Hakalini’ir had set for Shade?
When Maxwell tore his gaze away from her to mutter something to Bor, it left her dizzy and reeling with disappointment and frustration bordering on panic.
She’d just screwed herself. She knew it.
Then the shifter stepped away from Bor and headed right for Rebecca, still looking sick.
What did he mean to do now? What had she done to elicit this response in both him and the old giveldi?
What the hell had Bor told him?
It could only have been one thing. Bor now knew the bigger picture, if not all the smaller details, of who Rebecca truly was. Just as Zida also knew it, because they’d both witnessed it for themselves firsthand.
Was that what he’d shared with Maxwell in his anger?
Was that really how Zida and Bor had decided to repay Rebecca for saving all their lives?
Not that she expected any praise for what she’d done, but this was the complete opposite.
If this played out all the way to the end, all of Shade would turn against their Roth-Da’al once they learned what she’d been keeping from them. They’d cast her out, or try to kill her. Maybe even try to subdue and apprehend her before turning her over to Rowan or the fucking Azyyt Ra’al in exchange for all their lives…
Her breath hitched in her throat as she watched Maxwell drawing closer. As she felt him and the rising intensity of tingling energy racing across her cheeks and down her neck and spreading into her limbs.
What the hell was she supposed to do now ?
Could she even get herself out of this one?
Far before the shifter reached her, Diego, Burke, and Shell fell disturbingly quiet, their confused stares burning shameful holes into her.
And she still couldn’t look away from Maxwell.
“Knocks?” Diego asked before taking one hesitant step toward her. “Hey. What’s is it?”
She would have loved to know the answer to that question, but she had nothing.
Then Maxwell finally reached her. In the back of her mind, she was vaguely aware of the entire task force scattered across the parking lot—which also fell under a tense and wary silence. Everyone watching, as if a giant neon sign had lit up above her head to proclaim, ‘This is going to be one hell of a show! ’
Maxwell stopped so close in front of her, the rising heat of his anger and the force of his silver gaze blazing across her skin felt more like two red-hot coals dragged across her flesh.
She tried to keep her emotions in check, to not visibly reveal that something was very wrong while nearly a hundred magicals watched her and Maxwell squaring off. But she couldn’t maintain that forever.
Depending on what the shifter said next, she might have to reveal a whole lot more than the effort of simply holding herself back.
Anticipation and readiness churned through her, firing up all her senses in readiness for a battle she’d never wanted.
A battle that might just be upon her.
She met Maxwell’s gaze head-on and lifted her chin. If he meant to call her out in front of everyone, she would meet it with dignity, at the very least. Fuck cowering while her darkest secrets were openly exposed.
“If you have good news, spit it out,” she snapped, clenching her fists at her sides. “Otherwise, we should probably go hash this out in private.”
Maxwell stepped closer and leaned all the way in toward her, like he meant to whisper something in her ear, though he no longer seemed capable of looking her in the eye.
Almost like he was about to tell her some invaluable secret in passing without wanting anyone else to notice.
Fat chance of that now …
“I know where we can go,” he murmured, his breath fluttering across her cheek and sending a rippling shudder down the side of her neck and into her spine.
A thrilling surge of more tingling heat joined it, and Rebecca would have done nearly anything to get rid of that sensation now.
“Remote,” Maxwell continued. “Plenty of space. It will give us enough time to regroup and plan our next steps.”
Wait, what ?
He wasn’t talking about her. This wasn’t over some new discovery about Shade’s Roth-Da’al calling herself Rebecca Knox.
This was their next move. A place to stay for everyone. Safety and protection in hiding when they needed it most.
So why did he look so terrified?
All the fight—the readiness to defend herself or flee, if necessary—seeped out of her with the realization of her misunderstanding. Then, with painful awareness, she remembered everyone else gathered around them. Every gaze settled on her and Maxwell in hopeful anticipation.
She tried to ignore the feeling of being under a microscope and returned to the conversation she didn’t yet fully understand.
“Okay…” she replied steadily. “That sounds like good news, but you’re delivering it like it’s a death sentence.”
“It is the only option that assures everyone else’s safety,” he added, gazing past her seemingly at the crowd still watching them, but his silver eyes looked glazed over in a way she hadn’t seen before.
Then he pulled away and finally looked her in the eye, pain and regret and fear billowing out of him and into her. “And yours.”
Rebecca’s gut sank at those words.
He’d mentioned everyone else, and her, but had specifically left out one incredibly important piece of the puzzle.
“And what about you?” she asked.
“I will do what I can to mitigate the risks,” he growled, his voice darkened by the rumbling in his chest like a falling boulder. “It’s been long enough. There may be a small chance to argue for a slight bend in the rules.”
That wasn’t an answer at all.
Why was he deflecting?
What the hell was going on?
He tried to walk away, moving past her like he’d done so many other times before.
But Rebecca didn’t buy any of it. Something was seriously wrong.
She caught him by the arm before he could slip away and hauled him back toward her with a hiss.
But physically forcing the shifter to do anything, even to stop and turn back toward her, was like trying to lift a car with her pinky.
He stopped but still wouldn’t look at her.
“Hannigan,” she snarled, “we’ve definitely crossed a line together, but this is not the kind of irrational and incredibly stupid I was talking about. Something’s wrong.”
Maxwell’s spine grew rigid, muscles tightening in response, his silver eyes blazing.
For a moment, she thought he really would tear away from her and just keep walking. That he would ignore all the small agreements they’d made to be honest with each other wherever and whenever they could.
For a moment, Rebecca thought everything between her and the shifter was over, despite the electrifying tingle racing up her arm and into her chest as she tightened her grip on his arm—the irresistible urge to pull him closer while the heavy, ominous weight of whatever burden he carried flowed from him and into her.
A second later, all the fight and effort to resist bled out of him with his next heavy sigh, and he turned toward her with a desperate hopelessness flaring in those silver eyes. “Where we are going, Shade will be safe. So will you.”
Rebecca finally pulled her hand away from his arm, searching his glowing gaze for another hint of whatever he was clearly so intent on avoiding.
“That’s not what I asked,” she said, trying to keep her voice low despite the panic rising in her and mixing with his roiling emotions. “I need you to give me a straight answer. Shade will be safe. I’ll be safe. Great. But what about you? What aren’t you telling me?”
The pain in his flashing eyes betrayed his attempts to hide it with another deep growl that didn’t quite reach the same level of violent warning as usual.
But he dipped his head toward her and muttered, “As far as I’m concerned, ‘death sentence’ is likely the most accurate description.”