Page 109 of Knight

Michaels’s voice breaks the silence, and I turn to find him leaning against the kitchen doorway, looking marginally better than yesterday. Some color has returned to his face, though dark circles still ring his eyes.

"They left about an hour ago."

"And you justletthem?" Shock adds a sharp edge to my voice.

"Let them?" He almost smiles. "Eva, they're professionals. They don't exactly ask for permission."

"They were supposed to wait for me. I should be with them." My fingers curl into fists. "I was part of this from the start. I helped plan. I know the layout. I was supposed to help support them."

"Which is probably why Knight left you here." He turns and walks into the living room. I follow him. "To keep you safe."

I pace instead of sitting, too wired to stay still. "I don't need his protection. I've already proven I can handle myself. I survived being his prisoner, helped rescue you, and climbed up the side of a building! I'm not some helpless little girl."

"Have you considered that maybeheneeds to know you’re safe?" Michael's quiet words hit harder than they should. "That maybe leaving you behind wasn't about your capabilities?"

"Don't." I spin to face him. "Don't try to make this sound noble. He made a choice for me, without even discussing it. After everything that's happened between us, he still doesn’t trust me enough to have that conversation."

"Like someone who's afraid of lowering their guard?"

The words stop my pacing. I sink onto the couch, my anger mixing with a reluctant understanding I don’t want to acknowledge. "He hadnoright."

"No, he didn’t." Michael reaches for my hand, his grip firm but gentle. "But I get it. The need to protect someone you care about, even when they don’t want that protection. The desire to keep them away from danger, even if it means making choices they won’t like."

For a moment, I don’t say anything, but the thoughts crowd in—thoughts I’ve pushed away for so long.

"I was supposed to protect you, Michael." My voice is thick. "I’m supposed to be your big sister. But look what happened when I failed at that."

Michael’s face softens, his expression quiet. "And look what happened when you tried to find me." He tries to lighten the moment, but the humor falls flat. "Eva, sometimes we have to let other people fight for us. Even when we don’t want them to."

I stare at my hands, at the healing marks on my wrists. Evidence of how everything changed. Of how Knight went from being my captor to being someone I trust with my life. Someone who apparently trusts me enough to leave me here with his brothers' safehouse location, but not enough to let me help end this.

"What if something happens?" My voice trembles.

"Then we deal with it." Michael squeezes my fingers. "But from what I've seen, they know what they're doing."

Minutes pass in agonizing silence. I make fresh coffee just to have something to do with my hands. Michael dozes on the couch, his body still recovering from weeks of forced work. The silence presses down on me until I want to scream.

I check my phone for the hundredth time, but the screen remains stubbornly dark. Knight isn't the type to send updates, and his brothers are probably too focused on the mission to think about keeping us informed.

The coffee grows cold in my mug while I stare out the window at the suburban houses in neat rows. No one watching would guess that this quiet street hides people planning to infiltrate a secure facility. Somewhere in one of these identical houses, someone is probably making breakfast while I wait to find out if the plan was a success.

"You're going to wear a hole in the floor." Michael's observation draws me back to the present. I hadn't even realized I was pacing again.

"I hate this." The admission is torn out of me. "Ihatenot knowing. I hate that they left me behind. I hate that after everything, he still didn't trust me."

"I know. But wearing yourself out won't make them come back faster."

I try to steady my breathing, telling myself that I know exactly where they are, what they’re up against. But somehow, that makes it worse. Not knowing what had happened to Michael had its own kind of grip, but this … the waiting is unbearable. My mind is running wild with all the worst-case scenarios.

What if something goes wrong? What if they don’t come back?

But beneath the anxiety, anger is still simmering. They shouldn’t have left me behind. I should have been there with them.

The sound of a car pulling up cuts off my spiraling thoughts, and I’m on my feet and rushing to the door before I really think about it. Throwing it open, I step outside.

I’m halfway to the car when Bishop steps out.

My heart is hammering. There’s something wrong. His expression is off.

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