Page 93 of Riding the Edge

“No, thank you,” she says. “When he’s feeling better, I will tell him you stopped by.”

The annoyance and disappointment in her tone forces me to sigh and run my fingers roughly through my hair.

“Reina—”

“If you don’t mind,” she interjects, turning her back to me. “I’d like to get back to my husband,” she adds, pulling open the door. Respecting her too much to lie to her and tell her everything will be okay, I give her a tight nod and make my way towards the open door. Pausing in front of her, I turn and lift a hand to her cheek.

“Give me time to figure something out.”

“That’s what you don’t understand,” she argues softly. “We’re out of time, Wolf.”

Reina’s wrong.

Our time has been up for a while now.

We’re in overtime, where every second counts and every play might be the last.

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