Page 46 of The Flame

“It was another time, another way of thinking, another kind of life,” he said. “Citizens had more rights and no one questioned it, not even the elected government.”

There was a tone of finality in his voice, in his manner as navigated the rutted dirt lane through the woodlands. That was the way it was done then, this is the way it is done now.

I shook off my speculative mood as our rustic cabin came into view. A wave of nostalgia came over me, but I shook that off as well. Accommodating time for the ride back to the rehab center, we had less than half an hour to prepare for tonight.

Besides the clothes in my wardrobe, I didn’t have many belongings. I tore through our bedroom, dumping out the drawers and wardrobe onto a heap on the bed.

Roman went to his study first and came through with his precious books stacked in his arms. Amongst them were his Atlas filled with geographic pictures and historical details of a world before our time and beyond our view, a beautiful photographic wildlife journal, and, of course, Amelia’s sketchbook.

I stabbed a look at the plywood chest in the corner, crafted by a grandfather I’d never known, given to me by my mother. I wasn’t leaving that behind. “You can put your books in there.”

It wasn’t long before we’d filled the chest, and I helped Roman carry the chest out to his truck.

He checked inside the lockbox on the back of the truck. “There’s some space in here if you need it.”

“I’m set, thanks,” I told him and returned inside to gather the last remaining scraps of my life into my overnight bag, to erase myself from this cabin as efficiently as Julian had been erased from his body.

Except for the letter I’d written to my parents, folded and lying on top of the chest of drawers. There wasn’t time to deliver it to Jessie now, and I contemplated leaving it here for them to find.

Except Geneva, or the Guard, would probably find it first. Even if they passed it on to my parents, which was doubtful, those words were for my mother, for my father. I’d poured my heart out into that letter.

I tucked the letter into my backpack, then I stuffed the tranquilizer gun and the flat box of darts into my purse. It was a tight fit, but there were no unseemly bulges that gave anything away.

After the whirlwind of the last half hour, Roman stopped me just as I was unpegging my coat from the wall by the front door.

“Hey.” His hands came to my hips, turning me to him.

I looked into his stone-gray eyes, absorbing his calming presence, and the storm inside me quietened. “Hey.”

His gaze lingered on me in a way that pressed warm shivers to my skin. “I love you.”

Tears stung behind my eyes. This wasn’t the end of us. I knew that. But I’d also learned there were no guarantees in this life, and there was no guarantee we’d walk away from this rescue attempt unscathed.

I reached up, my palms cupping his strong jaw. “I love you.”

Heat and something else, something fierce and almost dangerous, glinted in his eyes as he lowered his mouth to mine. The kiss started out intense and grew into desperate urgency as we touched, tasted, fed on each other as if we were ravenous beasts. My bones went weak with temptation to take an extended lunch hour, but we both knew it would be stupid to give anyone a reason to raise questions today, to even look at me too closely today.

Roman pulled out of the kiss, his voice husky, his gaze bathing me in love. “It’s going to be okay.”

I nodded. “It’s going to be okay.”

He breathed in, then stood back from me and flipped to mission mode. “Let’s run through it one more time. The receptionist leaves at five o’clock. The night shift comes on at six o’clock.”

“I’ll hide and wait it out,” I continued. “We’ll give everything an hour to settle. At seven o’clock, I’ll execute the plan.”

“You have ten minutes.” He tapped his wristwatch. “One minute past that, and I’m blowing out the emergency door and coming in for you. Whatever happens, I’m not leaving you inside.”

Once I left my hiding place, the clock would start ticking down to someone or something unexpected catching me red-handed in the act. Our plan relied heavily on brutally quick timing. That had been our biggest hurdle with Ward Red, but that wasn’t a consideration anymore, and Roman had cut our time window in half.

Ten minutes should be enough. If I wasn’t out in ten minutes, it probably meant I’d failed and I was in trouble.

I did not agree about the part where Roman charged in to save me, but we’d already had that argument many times and I’d lost.

“Ten minutes,” I promised. “We’ll be there.”

I wanted to kiss him again. I wanted to spend one more moment in his arms, but instead I grabbed my coat from its peg on the wall and we walked out the door.

On the drive back to the rehab center, we went over the plan one more time. Roman searched for new weaknesses, but in truth, our plan was stronger, virtually airtight now that Julian Edgar and Ward Red were removed from the equation.

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