Page 98 of Wilde and Deadly

Unless—

Unless there hadn’t been time to call.

Her stomach dropped.

Her mind started ticking through every possibility, every terrible fucking scenario.

What if Liam never made it to WSW? What if someone had been waiting for him?

What ifhe’dwalked into a trap?

She turned back to Sabin, heartbeat too loud in her ears.

“He should be back.”

Sabin’s smirk faded completely. His posture shifted, subtle but noticeable. “You worried about Liam now?”

Rowan clenched her jaw. “He should be back,” she repeated, sharper this time.

But saying it out loud didn’t make it true.

The uneasy weight in her chest solidified into something colder, heavier.

This wasn’t just paranoia.

Something was wrong.

She could feel it, crawling up her spine, pressing against the back of her skull like a warning too loud to ignore.

Rowan glanced back at the window one last time, like she’d see Liam or Davey walking down the street—like she’d been wrong.

But the street was empty.

Enough.

She spun away from the window, pulse thrumming in her throat. “I’m taking a shower.”

Sabin’s grin returned instantly. “So this is the part where we pretend you’re not about to do something incredibly reckless, yeah?”

Rowan didn’t answer, just headed for the bedroom. Slow. Controlled. Like she wasn’t already halfway out the door.

“Don’t you go closing that bedroom door,” Sabin warned idly.

“Yeah, you’d like to see me naked, wouldn’t you?”

“As appealing as you are, cher, I’d like to keep my balls intact more and Davey’ll have them for earrings if he thinks I saw anything.”

Rowan shot him a sidelong glance before shutting the door. She could hear his chuckle on the other side. “We both know what you’re gonna do. You get a five minute head start, then I’m comin’ after you.”

She didn’t bother turning on the shower. Sabin already knew it was a ruse, so why waste the water? She grabbed her Glock from the nightstand, checked the mag, and slid it into the holster at the small of her back. A blade followed—a slim, wickedly sharp karambit, strapped to her thigh.

Prepared, not paranoid.That had been drilled into her since she was a kid.

Only now, it didn’t feel like paranoia.

It felt like survival.

Her boots barely made a sound as she slipped to the window, pried it open, and climbed out onto the fire escape.

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