Page 41 of Knight (Chambers Brothers Trilogy #3)

CHAPTER FORTY

Evangeline

I don’t go to bed. I stop at the couch and stretch out. But it feels too big, too cold, after the heat of that kiss. My lips still tingle, and my heart won’t slow down, like it’s caught in the same tension that hums through the walls of this apartment. The darkness presses in around me, broken only by the blue glow spilling through the doorway of his workspace. Every few minutes, I hear him muttering to himself as he works, the sound carrying through the partially open door.

I should sleep. I need to process everything we discovered—about the virus, Victor’s warnings, and why someone targeted me to carry that phone into Knight’s apartment. But instead, my thoughts keep circling back to him. His hands in my hair, the rough sound he made before pulling away, how his body tensed when I kissed him.

The notification that interrupted us keeps chiming. Whatever Victor embedded in those logs must be important enough to keep him working through the night. I shift uncomfortably on the couch, too aware of the clothes I haven’t changed in days against my skin. The sweatpants and T-shirt he bought at that first safehouse are starting to feel grimy, and the lack of underwear makes everything worse. My entire life has been reduced to whatever he managed to grab during that one supply run.

More muttered curses filter through the door, followed by the sharp sound of him hitting a desk. The noise makes me jump. Something is obviously wrong, but I can’t bring myself to go back in there.

My wrists itch beneath their bandages. The marks are healing, but they serve as constant reminders of how this started. Of why I shouldn’t trust the flutter in my stomach when Knight looks at me. Only a few days ago, this same man had me handcuffed to his radiator. I was terrified of him, certain he’d killed the ‘ real ’ Knight. Now I find myself trusting him in ways that should frighten me more than the handcuffs did.

Time stretches like taffy, marked by the steady tapping of Knight’s keyboard and the occasional sound of his frustration. I drift in and out of awareness, never quite reaching actual sleep. Every time I start to drift off, another curse or the chime of an alert snaps me back.

The sky outside begins to lighten, turning the windows into gray squares against darker walls. I’ve been lying here for hours, pretending I’m not listening to every sound from his workspace. Pretending I’m not remembering how it felt when he steadied me on the climb up here, or the way his hands moved so carefully while checking my bandages.

Footsteps approach the door, and I quickly close my eyes, evening out my breathing. The steps pause, and I’m sure he’s watching me. Part of me wants to look, to see what expression he’s wearing. Instead, I maintain the illusion of sleep, counting heartbeats while he stands there.

"I know you're awake." His voice carries equal parts exhaustion and irritation. "Your breathing changes when you're actually sleeping."

Heat crawls up my neck as I open my eyes. He looks wrecked—hair standing up where he’s clearly been running his hands through it, shadows under his eyes that speak of too many hours staring at screens.

"What time is it?"

"Almost dawn." He moves closer, and my pulse kicks up. "Victor's left a detailed timeline buried in the code. Horizon Tech is going to be targeted within days."

I push myself up, letting the blanket fall away. "What kind of target?"

“The virus is designed to slip into their systems and stay invisible. Once it’s activated, no one will see it, but it’ll have total control.” He sinks into the chair across from me, setting a fresh coffee mug near me.

"How long do we have?"

"Three days. Maybe four." His jaw tightens. "The warning is very specific about the deployment window. Almost like Victor wants us to try and stop it."

I wrap my hands around the coffee mug, letting the warmth ground me.

"I need to go home.” I hate how weak my voice sounds.

“No.” The word comes sharp and final. “Your apartment isn’t safe anymore. Neither is your job, your bank accounts, or anything connected to your old life.”

"What? Why?"

He leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Think about it. If Victor put a warning inside this virus, then it means he’s not the one behind things, but he is involved. Whoever is behind it spent weeks learning everything about you. Your routines, your habits, what makes you vulnerable. You think they'd just let you walk back into your life now that you've seen behind the curtain?"

The reality of my situation hits hard. "But my things ..."

"Can be replaced." His voice softens slightly. "I know this isn't ideal. But whoever it is, they'll be watching every place connected to you. Waiting for exactly that kind of mistake."

"I can't just ... disappear. People will notice."

"They already think you're with me." He runs a hand through his hair. "The police report, remember? As far as anyone knows, you're shacked up with the dangerous hacker who supposedly kidnapped you."

"That's not—" He's right. The story we gave the detective about me choosing to be with Knight now serves as perfect cover. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh." His mouth quirks slightly. "Better they think that than know the truth. Keeps them looking for the wrong thing."

The professional mask slips for a moment as his eyes move over my clothes. "Use the bedroom. Get some sleep. We'll figure out the practical stuff once we understand what Victor's timeline is really telling me."

"You should rest too."

He exhales sharply, setting his mug down. “I need to make sure I haven’t missed anything.”

I want to argue, but I’m honestly too tired to put the effort into it. The bedroom feels like it's miles away, but it's better than this couch. Better than lying here listening to him work, and thinking about how it felt when he kissed me.

As I head toward the bedroom, I realize something that should probably terrify me more than it does—my quiet life at the library, the emptiness of my apartment, the isolation that made me such a perfect target ... none of it seems real anymore.

Reality is the man in the other room, working to decode his mentor’s warnings. The man I shouldn’t trust but somehow do. The man whose kiss still burns on my lips, even though we’re both pretending it didn’t happen.

I just hope trusting him doesn't turn out to be an even bigger mistake than the one that brought me here in the first place.