Page 47 of The Devil's Thorn
Kellan drops down beside me, stretching one leg out in front of him. “You’re waiting for something.”
I don’t look at him. “Aren’t we all?”
“Not like you.”
Ash tosses a towel my way. I catch it midair, wiping the back of my neck before slinging it over my shoulder.
I don’t say anything else.
Because Iamwaiting. But not just for a call. Not just for an assignment. I’m waiting for the moment he slips. The moment I see behind those eyes and find the truth buried beneath them.
And I know it’s coming. Because men like Rafael Romanov don’t watch someone like me for nothing. They watch because they’realready caught.
The gym feels quieter now.
Not because the music’s stopped or the gloves are off. But because I’ve spent the last hour bleeding out the tension that’s been sitting just beneath my skin since the last time I stood behind Rafael Romanov’s chair.
I’m stretched out on the mat, arms loose at my sides, chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths. The burn in myshoulders has finally started to fade, but the rest of me is still on edge. Always.
Ash is messing with something on his phone. Kellan’s twisting a towel, his eyes flicking toward me every few seconds like he thinks I’m going to implode if left alone too long.
I don’t. I never do.
But the silence between us is familiar. Comfortable in the way only shared purpose and too many years together can be.
I sit up, rolling my neck out once.
“That’s it for me,” I say, rising to my feet.
Kellan raises a brow. “You calling it early?”
“I need to shower. Unless you want to sit next to me smelling like blood and sweat all day.”
“I mean… it’s kind of your aesthetic,” Ash mutters.
I shoot him a look. “Funny.”
He grins but doesn’t push. Kellan tosses me a fresh towel from the bench. “You’re quicker when you’re pissed. We’ll work on control next time.”
“Iamin control,” I mutter under my breath.
But the words don’t feel as solid as they used to, still I move and grab my phone off the bench.
“I’ll be there to pick you up at six-thirty,” Kellan says behind me, tone already shifting into mission mode.
I nod without turning around. “I’ll be ready.”
Ash whistles low. “Don’t get lost in there too long.”
“I never do.”
But I don’t tell them that lately… and staying at Anna’s feels like the only place I can breathe without thinking of him.
Thecold air outside bites, slicing across my skin as I step onto the street.
It’s not unbearable. It’scleansing.
The city is already moving, but I don’t rush. I walk with purpose, hands in my coat pockets, eyes scanning out of habit—faces, cars, reflections in windows.
