Page 85 of Cyclone

Jude

The envelope came just after noon.

No footsteps.

No knock.

Just a softthudagainst the porch and the faint creak of the mailbox.

I felt it before I saw it.

River reached the door first, gun drawn, eyes sweeping the perimeter.

“Clear,” he called.

I followed, slow and steady, heart steadying with every step.

He held the envelope in two fingers like it might detonate.

White. Unmarked. Crisp.

My name typed across the center in clean black ink.

River didn’t open it.

He didn’t have to.

He looked at me. “Your call.”

I took the envelope and brought it inside, laying it flat on the kitchen table. My hands were steady now. My fear replaced with something sharper.

Resolve.

I slid my thumb beneath the flap and peeled it open.

Inside was a single sheet of paper.

Typed. Again.

Six words this time.

“You looked at me first.”

My breath caught in my throat.

I stared at the words, willing them to mean something else. Something simpler. Safer.

But they didn’t.

Because he was right.

Ihad looked athim. The guy gave me the creeps. All I wanted to find out was why he kept staring at me. Later, I found out the CIA was trying to see if I would break. Bastards.

Back in that bunker, through that glass. I would see him watching me.

I’d broken the silence. Broken the rules. Brokenpattern. Because I stared back at him.

And he’d never let it go.

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