Page 35 of Scorpion

“To laugh again.”

Neither of us adds to that. The slight curve of her lips makes me smile. I lean closer to her, relishing in the warmth of her proximity and the glimmer of light that’s returned since she’s come within my grasp.

After I lost my parents, I didn’t think there was any semblance of good that would ever reappear in my life. My days continued. Men died. Green exchanged hands. Guns were fired. Day in and day out, all I could see was bleak misery.

The families living in the compound were the only sign of goodness. Even then, it was fleeting.

Year after year, I was kept up, wondering if Zalak felt the same way in the solitude of crowds. The lonesomeness of surface interactions. Did she ever see the insides of a person and think, Is that it? Did she stare at the ceiling and try to summon an image of a year from now and see nothing but the emptiness of existence?

I had hoped that wherever she was, she didn’t feel those things. That she would look upon her sister and know the fire hasn’t died out, and there’s a reason to keep going.

When Zalak’s team and Gaya died, the pain I felt wasn’t from their deaths, it was from knowing that I might have lost her for good. I survived my parents’ deaths because I wanted to make them proud, and I had Sergei by my side. What does Zalak have to keep her going?

When my personal guard died from a gunshot to the head—courtesy of Goldchild—I realized I had the perfect opportunity. She doesn’t know it, but my men have orders to protect her with their lives, just as they would for me.

She needs the protection a lot less than I do. It turns me the hell on that she can beat someone up better than I can.

The Exodus might have reservations about accepting her into the fold, but I have no doubt she’ll make a name for herself. One day, she’ll have to prove to them that she’s worthy of becoming a member. She’s not ready for that kind of discussion yet, and there’s still plenty of time before the Reckoning for me to tear down her walls just enough for her to let me in.

“Yes,” Zalak says suddenly, catching me staring at her profile. “You asked me before if I can’t sleep. The answer is yes.”

I take her words to be the perfect opening, so I rise to my feet, then push the front door open, leaving her on the porch.

“What are you doing?”

I grin. “None of your business.”

“I disagree since you’re entering my place without permission.”

“Our place, Lieverd,” I correct.

Zalak shakes her head, leaving me to help myself to her things. Like all the other nights I’ve showed up at her door with dinner—which has been many times—the space is somewhat clean. It’s nowhere near the standard of pristine cleanliness it was when she first moved in, and it’s slowly getting messier as she gets more comfortable.

I grab the duvet and pillows off her bed and pile the spare blankets on top, then head back outside. The corners of her eyes crease as she watches me lay out the two blankets and arrange the pillows on the big lounger. I plop down in the chair, lie back, and toe my shoes off before kicking them up.

Grinning to myself, I take a second to admire her. Her oversized clothing is hiding all the muscle she’s bulked up since moving here. I’ll be honest, it makes my mouth water just thinking about it.

“Sit.” I nod to the space beside me.

“I’m off the clock. You can’t tell me what to do.”

I grab my phone and fire off a text to her that I need her to work now. A text message sounds from inside, and the dirty side-eye she throws my way has me barking out a laugh.

Zalak pauses for a moment. Her eyes flash with an internal battle I can probably figure out. She’s been closed off for so long, she needs to decide whether she’s going to open herself back up. Even if she doesn’t, I’ll find a way to get in so her space is less lonely. I’ll be the light in her dark corner whether she likes it or not.

Grumbling, she lowers herself beside me, all stiff and uncomfortable. This girl wouldn’t do anything she doesn’t want to do, and she’s willingly entering into my space. I throw the many blankets on top of us and forgo the employer-employee decorum by wrapping my arm around her firm shoulders and pulling her to my side. If I thought she was tense before, this is a whole other category.

The frozen air turns our breaths into clouds, and yet I can’t feel the chill. The tension that’s knotted its way through my body slowly unwinds. Neither of us says a word, with her staring up at the sky, and me staring at her. When was the last time I held her in my arms? When was the last time it didn’t feel so empty?

For the first time in years, it feels like everything is going to be okay. There are some things I’ll never get back: habits, people, personality traits. But ten years later, and she still feels like a source of stability when everything is crumbling around me.

Before she came back, I stopped doing things because I wanted to, and only because I had to. Every transaction just felt like a job to put a tick in the book. Now there’s a light I’m heading toward, not an endless loop.

The silence stretches between us, and with each passing minute, she slowly relaxes like she’s letting herself accept this moment where she isn’t out in the cold by herself.

“Remember when you’d sneak out while your parents were asleep?” I ask. We’d stay in one of the guesthouses located on the compound and do exactly what we’re doing now; lounging beneath the stars.

Zalak huffs. “I can’t believe I learned how to make a fake body in case Mom checked my room.”

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