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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Knight

We abandon the car a mile away from my apartment and walk the rest of the way. By the time we reach the gates, the sun is setting and we slip through without anyone noticing. Security lights cast shadows across the grassed areas as I guide Glitch between buildings toward my apartment complex. When it comes into view, I pause, taking in the scorch marks from the explosion. They’re clearly visible on the walls, black scars against brick, where the charges detonated.

From ground level, it’s easy to track the damage pattern. The explosions were tightly controlled, targeted for specific parts of the building. At a guess I’d say it would look random to most people, but not me. I can follow the path up the three stories to my penthouse.

“How are we supposed to get inside? The whole building is still locked down. I don’t suppose you can unlock the doors from out here.”

I walk along the path, and turn the corner, while she trails behind me. There are various architectural features breaking up the monotony of brick, and I stop in front of the fourth one—a gargoyle crouched near the ground. Bending, I twist its ear. There’s a soft click, and a panel slides open. I lean inside, and take out the bag. Everything I need is in here—ropes, harnesses, carabiners. I check it every six months.

Most people would call it paranoid. I call it survival.

“Why do you have climbing gear hidden in the wall?”

“I have what I need where I need it.” The equipment checks out. No signs of tampering or rust. I straighten. “This is our way in.”

She looks at the gear, then up to my face. “How?”

“By climbing up to my balcony.”

“Climbing?” She licks her lips. “You mean … up the side of the building?”

I nod. “Once we’re up there, I can open the doors to get us back inside.”

“If that was an option, why did you make me crawl through the maintenance tunnels? Wouldn’t it have been easiest to go up?”

“I didn’t know what was waiting for us out there. There were explosions going off.” I hand her a harness. “The balcony could have been compromised.”

“How do you know it’s not compromised now?”

“I just do.” I don’t. I’m guessing. “Put this on.”

She stares at the straps and buckles like they’re snakes waiting to attack. “I don’t know how.”

I step closer, and crouch. “Step into it.”

I slide the harness over her clothes, adjusting straps, and trying to ignore how her breath keeps catching any time my fingers brush against her. The memory of waking up with her pressed against me in the cabin pushes its way to the front of my mind, threatening my focus.

“Too tight?” I check the fit around her thighs.

She shakes her head. I give the harness one last check, tugging and adjusting, then step back, and focus on getting into mine. The familiar routine helps to ground my thoughts. Check straps, test buckles, set anchor points in the stonework. Three stories isn’t a high climb, but one mistake could still get one of us killed if we fell wrong or, at the very least, break some bones.

“Stay close to the wall. Follow my lead, and don’t look down.”

Her hands are shaking when I clip her into the safety line. “I’ve never climbed anything higher than a stepladder.”

“Think of it like a giant ladder, then.” Our eyes meet. “Trust me. I’m not going to let you fall.”

I don’t let her know I’m concerned about whether she’ll be able to hold her weight with weakened wrists. I’ll just have to make sure I stick close enough to catch her if her grip slips.

The first floor’s decorative stonework provides decent grip points. I stay by her side and slightly above her, so I can guide her hands to each hold. The building’s design makes the climb easier than it could be, but for someone who’s never done something like this, it’s going to be tiring.

From this angle, I can see more details about the explosion pattern. The blasts appear to have been sequential, creating very targeted paths of destruction, while leaving the structure itself sound.

Halfway up, her foot slips. The small sound that escapes her makes my heart jump. My hand finds her shoulder.

“You’re okay.” I keep my voice steady. “Take a breath. Reset your foot ... That’s it.”

She takes in a couple of deep breaths, eyes closed.

“Ready?”

She nods, and we continue the climb. Each foot of progress shows more of her determination. The way she pushes through her obvious fear, refusing to give up, earns her my grudging … very grudging … respect.

We’re just below my balcony when her fingers slip. I shift closer, catching her arm.

“We’re almost there. Don’t die on me now. It’d be hard to explain the blood stains on the ground.”

“That’s not funny!” But she wipes a hand down her thigh, and then adjusts her grip.

“Let me go over first, then I’ll help you up.” I scale the last few feet, and pull myself over the railing, then turn and reach down, and lift her over. She collapses against me, her heart hammering so hard I can feel it through both our shirts. My arms curve around her automatically, while she catches her breath.

“Breathe.” My voice is rougher than I intend it to be. “You did good.”

She lifts her head, and I’m sure she’s about to tell me she’s never doing that again, but whatever words she planned die when our eyes meet. She’s too close. Her face flushed from exertion, lips parted, eyes bright from the adrenaline rush. My hand moves to cup her face, thumb brushing across her cheek.

The contact feels like a live wire, sending jolts of electricity through my system. For one dangerous moment, I consider closing the tiny distance that separates us and kissing her. Instead, I step back, and force myself to focus on unclipping the safety lines.

“Let’s get inside. There’s work to do.”

Her breathing changes at my abrupt tone, but I turn toward the balcony door, and focus on the lock. The mechanism yields to my override code—another piece of evidence that the explosions were targeted. Some systems disabled, others left functional, creating the path Victor wanted me to take.

Somehow, I can’t shake the feeling that this growing attraction between us is also part of his plan too. Victor knows what buttons to push. He would know what kind of person would get under my skin.

Her determination, her resilience, even the way she pushes back against my control … how much of that is by design?

The thought should make me pull away completely. I should send her away, remove her from my life, cut all ties right now. Instead, I find myself watching how she’s already steadying her breathing, and gathering herself to face whatever will come next.