Page 77 of Elas

“Oh, uh, I thought those were just for this room,” he admits, and she mutters something under her breath that I can’t decipher from here. “They work on the outside doors, too?”

“Yes.” The word hisses from her lips, full of venom, and the worker laughs nervously.

“Well, I guess that solves that then, doesn’t it?”

I can’t help my snort of laughter at the chief’s impatience. “Gods, I’m surrounded by idiots. Tonight,” she says again. “You will finishtonight.”

“Yes, ma’am. It will one hundred percent be done tonight. You can count on us.”

“Wonderful,” she mutters, before the determined clop of her footsteps fades.

“Hey, uh, Oza? Don't lose your keycard, okay?” The other guy responds with an irritated grunt that appears to be a question. “I, uh, kinda misplaced mine earlier this week, and I’m pretty sure Chief wouldn’t be very happy if I told her that.”

The keycard!

With everything we’ve learned from the files, not to mention the physical developments in mine and Elas’s relationship, I’d forgotten about it falling into my lap. Access to that room sits at home, tucked away inside a drawer.

An hour later, Elas peers in, and I immediately realize something is wrong. But when I question him with my eyes, he gives a subtle shake of his head. Chief Aeliphis appears behind him and says, “You have everything handled, then, Officer Elas?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He pushes the door open and stands aside for me to join them in the hallway.

She nods and turns those unsettling orange eyes on me. Underneath her usual sternness is a touch of something like regret. “Our circumstances were strange, but I am glad we met. You’ve given us all a lesson we won’t soon forget, and I wish you the best of luck.”

Confused, my gaze bounces between her and Elas, trying to make sense of what she’s saying. “Are we no longer working together?” I finally ask.

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Beckett. Take care of yourself.” And with that, she walks away and leaves me slack-jawed. My eyes find Elas’s, but he shakes his head again.

“Later,” he murmurs, the sound lost in the sudden hush of the hallway as my anxiety spikes. My palms sweat and my heart races as he guides me towards the door. Only, instead of going outside, he pivots and enters the locker room. “Collect any personal items you have stored here.”

“Why?” It’s suddenly hard to breathe through my restricted windpipe, and I swallow hard, my throat bobbing as his eyes follow the motion.

“August, please trust me,” he says, and I force another swallow as I nod. It only takes a minute to gather my measly stack of things from my locker. Soap and a spare toothbrush, and a few items of clothing that technically aren’t even mine. They all belong to Elas or to the clinic, but I take them anyway as a sad realization hits me.

“I… I don’t have much.”

“Me neither, as it turns out,” he whispers with a sad smile. He glances around before he steps closer and brushes his knuckles over my cheek. “We have each other, August. That’s what matters.”

The moment feels significant, like this precarious game we’ve been playing has finally been thrown off balance, and the scales are tilting us in a direction we can’t fight.

Something major is changing here, but Elas’s simple request stays at the front of my mind.

Trust me.

And I do.

Unequivocally, and without limitation.

So instead of dwelling on the uncertainties plaguing me, I simply take my pitiful stack of items and let him lead me home. Outside, the workers load another round of boxes in their van, and as they slam the trunk and head back inside, it feels final.

I curse the lost opportunity.

We get home, and I stumble to a halt when I notice packed bags sitting on the couch. “Elas?”

“What I’m about to tell you is going to be a lot, August, but hold off overanalyzing until we’re finished with this discussion.”

I find the gumption to scowl. “I don’t always go into overanalysis mode.”

He leads me to the kitchen table to sit, taking his spot across from me. “Yeah, you do, baby. And I love that about you, but I need you to stay focused right now.”

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