Page 24 of Pressure Point (Lantern Beach Blackout: Detonation #2)

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

Quinn waited until she heard Atlas’s footsteps fade down the hallway before moving away from the table. She’d barely touched her food. Though the chicken and rice casserole was delicious, her stomach was too knotted with anxiety to manage more than a few bites.

She walked to the window and looked down at the grounds below. She was three stories up, with a clear view of the Blackout campus.

Since sunset, she’d been working on memorizing the patrol patterns of the guards outside. She’d studied the landscape. She’d been watching the weather. Rain steadily fell, which would make everything more slippery.

This is the right thing to do, she told herself for the hundredth time. The longer I stay, the more danger I put everyone in.

The attack in the woods had proven that whoever wanted her dead wasn’t going to give up. If she really was the kind of person her memories suggested—someone trained to kill without hesitation—then staying at Blackout was putting innocent people at risk.

Plus, she’d seen children here. Families.

She couldn’t hurt them or put them in danger.

Atlas’s kindness, his protective instincts, his willingness to trust her despite every reason not to—it could get him killed if she remained.

Better to hurt him now than get him killed later.

She continued to watch, waiting for time to pass. She plotted out her moves. Devised backup plans. What-if scenarios. She’d even changed into some black clothes and boots that Raven had left in the bag of clothes she was borrowing.

Finally, at 11:47 p.m. it was time to act.

The guard rotations would most likely change at midnight. That would give her a small window when attention would be divided. She’d been watching the patterns for hours, noting the three-minute gap when the perimeter patrol passed the far side of the building.

If she was going to move, it had to be now.

She swallowed hard, knowing better than to second-guess herself.

Instead, she opened the window as quietly as possible, grateful the storm masked any small sounds. Rain drummed against the glass as she pushed it wide enough to fit through.

She glanced down.

The drop to the ground was manageable. In her fragmented memories, she’d fallen from higher places.

But the climb down would be tricky. The building’s exterior offered minimal handholds, and one slip would mean either injury or discovery.

Or both.

But Quinn could do this.

She swung her leg over the windowsill, then paused as an unexpected pang of loss hit her. Leaving this room meant leaving Atlas.

Part of her wanted to stay, wanted to trust that whatever was growing between her and Atlas could survive the truth about her past.

But she’d seen the way his colleagues looked at her now—with suspicion and barely concealed hostility. She’d heard the edge in Atlas’s voice every time new suspicions arose.

Whatever grace period she’d been granted was over.

It was time to go.

Quinn eased through the window and found her balance on the narrow ledge outside.

The rain made everything slippery, but her muscles remembered how to navigate treacherous terrain.

Hand over hand, she worked her way down the building’s side, using window frames and architectural details as anchor points. The wind whipped her hair around her face, and she paused twice to wipe rain from her eyes.

Twenty feet from the ground, Quinn’s left foot found the next window ledge—but the rain-slicked brick offered no grip.

Her boot skidded sideways, and suddenly she was falling.

She sucked in a breath.

Her fingertips clawed at the building’s facade, catching the narrow concrete lip of a window frame. The rough edge bit into her palms as her full weight jerked against her shoulders.

Pain shot down her arms, and a groan escaped.

Below, the ground tilted and swayed, dark earth and scattered landscaping rocks waiting.

Her legs kicked uselessly, searching for purchase against the smooth brick wall.

Rain pelted her face, making it impossible to see clearly. Her fingers, already numb from cold and wet, began to slip on the concrete ledge.

One millimeter.

Two.

Quinn’s breathing came in sharp gasps. Her shoulder muscles burned as they took her full weight. The fingertips of her left hand lost their grip entirely, leaving only her right hand anchored to the building.

Don’t look down. Find the next handhold. You can do this.

Her boot scraped against the side of the building, finally catching a slight depression in the mortar. Not enough to support her weight, but enough to take some pressure off her aching fingers.

Slowly, fighting against the wind that wanted to peel her from the wall, Quinn walked her feet up until she could grab the window ledge with both hands again.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she hung there, gathering strength for the final descent.

Come on, she told herself. You’ve done this before.

She didn’t remember doing it, but somehow she knew.

Quinn regained her footing and continued down. Finally, she dropped the last six feet to land in a crouch on the wet grass.

Staying low, she listened for any sign she’d been spotted.

Nothing but wind and rain.

She started toward the water, already planning her route. She’d grab a boat and head toward the mainland.

She didn’t want to steal the boat, but she didn’t have many other choices.

“Going somewhere?”

Quinn’s heart slammed against her ribs as she spun toward the voice.

Atlas stepped out of the shadows near the corner of the building.

His dark clothing made him nearly invisible in the storm. Water dripped from his hair, and his expression was unreadable in the dim light.

A lump formed in her throat.

“How long have you been out here?” Quinn didn’t bother to deny the obvious.

“About an hour.”

Atlas moved close enough that she could see the mix of disappointment and understanding in his green eyes.

“I figured you’d try to leave,” he continued. “Question is, was I right to stop you?”

Atlas had been watching Quinn’s window and wrestling with his own instincts. Part of him had hoped he was wrong, that she’d stay put and trust him to protect her.

But the larger part had known she’d run.

Now, looking at her standing in the rain with guilt and determination warring in her expression, he felt the familiar tug of attraction that complicated everything about this situation.

“You can’t leave.” He stepped closer, rain pelting his face and dripping from every limb. “Not like this.”

Quinn lifted her chin, rainwater streaming down her face also. “I’m putting everyone here in danger. You saw what happened in the woods. Those men found me somehow. As long as I’m here, your team—and their families—are at risk.”

“And if you leave, you’ll be dead within twenty-four hours.” Atlas kept his voice low but firm. “Whatever organization you worked for, whoever’s hunting you—they have resources we can barely imagine. Maybe even military connections. At least here you have protection.”

“Do I?” Quinn’s laugh was bitter. “Or am I just a prisoner with better accommodations?”

The question hit closer to home than Atlas wanted to admit. After tonight’s meeting with Colton and Ty, the line between protection and containment had definitely blurred.

“You saved our lives today,” he said instead of answering directly. “That has to count for something.”

Quinn edged closer, close enough for him to see the pain in her gaze. “What if that was just instinct? What if I’m exactly the kind of person who kills first and asks questions later?”

“Then we’ll deal with it.” The words came out rougher than he intended. “But running away isn’t going to solve anything. Your memories are coming back. They’re our best chance of understanding what we’re dealing with.”

“I need to remember , Atlas. Even though I don’t want to.” Her voice cracked. “Until I know who I really am, I’m a threat to everyone around me.”

Atlas found himself reaching for her. His fingers brushed her cheek to wipe away rain—or maybe tears. The contact sent electricity through him, that same spark he’d felt earlier multiplied by proximity and adrenaline.

“Maybe I can help,” he said softly. “If you’re willing to trust me . . .”

Quinn leaned into his touch, her eyes closing as if she were memorizing the sensation.

“Trust,” she whispered. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? How can you trust someone who doesn’t even trust herself?”

“Because sometimes trust isn’t about knowing everything. Sometimes it’s about choosing to believe in someone despite the unknowns.”

“There you go waxing poetic again,” she murmured. “And I have to say—I think it’s beautiful.”

For a moment, they stood there in the storm, the space between them charged with more than just the approaching lightning.

Quinn’s shoulders sagged slightly, the rigid tension that had been holding her upright finally releasing. Her hands, which had been clenched into fists at her sides, slowly uncurled.

She took a shaky breath and looked up at him—really looked at him—for the first time since he’d started speaking.

The guarded wariness in her eyes softened, like ice beginning to thaw at the edges.

She blinked once, twice.

Atlas saw her internal struggle playing out in the small movements of her face. The way her jaw unclenched. The way the tight line of her mouth relaxed.

She closed some of the careful distance she’d been maintaining. Her eyes never left his face.

It was as if she was searching for something—reassurance, perhaps, or confirmation that he meant what he’d said.

“Okay.” Her voice was barely audible above the increasing rainfall. Her chin lifted slightly, not in defiance this time, but in tentative trust. “Help me remember.”

The way she said it, with her head tilted slightly and her hands open at her sides, told Atlas everything he needed to know about her decision.

She was choosing to trust him despite her deepest fears.

When she spoke again, her voice was steadier but still fragile, like someone testing ice to see if it would hold their weight. “But Atlas, if the conditioning takes over again, if I become a threat?—”

“Quinn—”

“No, listen. If what we find is too dark, if I turn out to be someone who doesn’t deserve saving . . .” She met his gaze directly. “Promise me you’ll do what needs to be done.”

Atlas’s chest tightened. Looking at Quinn now—vulnerable and determined and trusting him with something that terrified her—he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep that promise.

He swallowed hard.

“Let’s focus on getting you inside before you catch pneumonia,” he said instead. “We’ll figure out the rest tomorrow—if we’re not too distracted by hurricane preparations.”

“It’s still headed this way, huh?” A frown tugged down the corner of her lips, and she glanced at the sky. A gust of wind swept around her as if in response.

“That’s what it looks like.”

As they walked back toward the entrance to the building, Atlas couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever they discovered about Quinn’s past would change everything between them.

He just hoped they’d both survive the revelation.