Page 52 of Shadowfox

“You sure you don’t want me going with Egret?” he whispered near my ear, his voice soft but no longer casual.

“He’s better alone for this. Two foreigners walking into a cryptography briefing with an almost-adversary’s secret service makes too much noise.”

“And you don’t think he’ll make noise on his own?” I cocked a brow.

“He will,” I admitted. “But he’ll control it. He might be a wildcard most of the time, but he’s a cool operator when it counts. Trust him, okay?”

“What about Sparrow?”

“She’ll remain here, faking a stomach bug, so she can check on the notice board a few times throughout the day. Who knows? Our little rabbit might reply today.”

“Rabbits like to hide.”

“But they’re so tasty when you catch them.” I waggled my brows. “They’re a little like chicken but without all those annoying feathers.”

Will snorted and tightened the knot at my throat a little more than necessary.

“I hate this part,” he said.

“Strangling me?”

He slapped my arm.

“Which part?”

“Sending everyone off like it’s a dress rehearsal for something that could get us shot. Fucking waiting. God, it’s only been a day, and the waiting is already gnawing at my gut.”

I looked at him. His hands were still at my collar, now idle, resting. He wasn’t letting go yet.

“This isn’t a rehearsal, Will,” I said. “It’s the show. The curtain’s up. We’re just hoping the audience isn’t armed.”

That earned a weak smile. He leaned in, pressed a kiss to my lips—not the kind we risked often, not here; but with every drop of water we could find running through the pipes, it would be impossible for anyone listening to catch our moment of affection. At least, we hoped that was so.

“Be boring,” I told him.

“Always am.”

“Talk about power grids, bureaucratic inefficiencies, fuel allotments. Hell, if you really want to bore them, talk about American elections and the idiots we send to Congress. They should get a real charge out of that.”

“A real charge?” Will rolled his eyes—but he chuckled.

I gave him one of my half smirks and added, “Maybe bring up supply chain shortages and make someone weep.”

He kissed the side of my mouth before I could pull back.

He didn’t smile again. Not really. But he looked better. More ready.

We shut off the water and returned to the bedroom, where he picked up his folder, the one full of fabricated reports and false leads, and adjusted his coat. He nodded once and slipped out the door, leaving the silence behind him like an afterthought.

I stayed a moment longer. Let the weight settle. Tried to fix his image in my mind, the feel of his kiss against my lips, the warmth of his breath on my skin.

“Stay safe, please,” I murmured, not caring if anyone heard my plea.

Then I reached for my own coat and briefcase, already packed with papers I didn’t care about and credentials that were real enough to fool someone lazy enough not to double-check. When I stepped into the hall, Sparrow was already there—leaning against the wall in a thick sweater and scarf, her eyes puffy, her skin paler than usual.

“You look awful,” I said.

“Thank you,” she replied.

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