Page 78 of Make Them Bleed

“Knight,” I order. “Park and breathe. Do not get made. Ozzy, hold the lot exit. If he leaves in the next fifteen, I want the car path.”

“Copy,” they chorus.

Juno and I stand under the Atlas sign bleeding gold onto the sidewalk. The night’s adrenaline recedes, leaving a clean, humming edge.

“You okay?” I ask, because I’m allowed one habit I won’t break.

She looks at me—really looks. “He’s smarter than I wanted him to be.”

“He thinks that’s all he needs,” I say. “Men who collect puzzles assume they’re the only ones with hands.”

A tiny, dangerous smile. “He liked me.”

“He underestimated you,” I correct. “Liking is optional. Underestimating is mandatory for people like him.”

She nods once. “Did you get enough?”

“Voiceprint, ring crest, device name. Card with a number that routes through a VoIP in Monaco. Call log with a ‘G.’ We have a stack,” I say. “Tomorrow we yank a thread.”

“Which one?” she asks.

“The one labeledGray,” Render answers in my ear before I can. “Breakfast club can have a dinner date. I can lay a false invite if we want him in a place with three exits and a bad acoustic ceiling.”

“Do it,” I say. “And flood Huxley’s inbox with the packet that doesn’t get any of us indicted.”

Juno’s hand slips into mine like a reflex and then stops like she remembered something. She doesn’t pull away. Neither do I.

“I don’t want him to saybright girlto anyone ever again,” she whispers.

“Then we take his voice away,” I say. “We make it evidence.”

The comms chirp. Knight: “He’s on foot—north slips. Phone to ear, laughing at something. I’m not close enough to hear.”

Render: “I got him reflected in a porthole.”

Ozzy: “Lot exit still cold. I’m bored, send snacks.”

“Hold positions,” I say. To Juno, “We did good.”

She exhales like she’s been holding her breath since the moment he said her name. “We did… something,” she says. “Good enough to make tomorrow worth it.”

I nod once, and we walk—down the block, past the noodle shop that smells like home, under a mural of magenta fish in an ocean of blue that looks like it knows more than we do. We don’t rush the next thing. We let the night file itself in our bones.

My phone buzzes with a number that isn’t in my contacts. I route it to a sandbox and listen anyway. A man’s voice, muffled, ocean in the background.“You made a new friend tonight, bright girl.”Click.

I send the audio to the group with the notegift from a cowardand flag the number for Gage to pull apart. Juno’s jaw sets. She doesn’t look afraid. She looks like someone who just put a pin in a map and can see the path from here to there.

“Tomorrow, bagels,” I say. “Then we make Gray late for his meeting.”

“Tomorrow,” she echoes. She squeezes my hand once, quick and hard, like a seal on a document that matters. “But tonight I want you to own me.”

27

Juno

Arrow smiles the moment he kicks my front door shut with his foot. His mouth lands on mine, and the world snaps into a sharper, brighter focus. My keys clatter to the floor. His jacket slides off his shoulders. I fist the front of his shirt and tug him closer until there’s no polite space left between us.

“Hi,” I breathe against his lips.