Page 160 of Shadowfox

My chest hurt—not from injury, but from the sheer force of relief. I reached for the side rail of my cot, pushed the blanket off with stiff fingers, and swung my legs over the edge. My knees didn’t buckle, but they threatened to. I shuffled to his bedside and dropped into the chair like it might vanish beneath me if I didn’t sit fast enough.

He looked younger asleep, less burdened. His lashes lay dark against his cheekbones, and for the first time in weeks, there was color in his lips. I reached out and brushed a lock of hair from his forehead.

He didn’t stir.

I sat with him for a while. Just sat.

Outside the window, I heard the wind and a bird. From somewhere distant came the thud of many boots on gravel.

But nothing close. No danger.

Memory flooded back.

We were in Austria. We’d made it.

All of us—except Shadowfox, Dr. Farkas.

And without his machine.

I squeezed my eyes shut and leaned back in the chair, guilt rising like smoke from a long-smothered fire.

We’d had one job.

Save the man, save the invention, not in that order.

And we’d done neither.

Except Eszter.

We’d saved her.

But even that felt like a fragile victory, one that might crack if I looked too closely. She hadn’t even been part of the mission brief.

“You’re frowning.”

My eyes snapped open.

Thomas hadn’t moved much, and his eyes were still half lidded, his voice quiet—but he was watching me.

I smiled and leaned forward. “How long have you been awake?”

“A while.”

“You should’ve said something.”

“I liked the way you were looking at me, thought I’d let you have the moment.”

I huffed a laugh, dry and broken. “You ass.”

He grinned, then winced. “Everything hurts.”

I reached for the pitcher on the table between our beds, poured a cup of water, and held it to his lips. He sipped, and I set the cup down.

His hand found mine, and our fingers entwined.

We sat in silence.

After an eternity of peace, I finally asked it, the question that had been crawling through my mind since the river.

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