Page 66 of Without a Trace
Lena sat on the floor in front of me. Worry pooling in her eyes. “Scar… are you in danger?”
“I don’t know.”
The silence stretched. Out of nowhere, Hemingway jumped up onto the bed and curled against my leg. His warmth was immediate and grounding, like he knew I needed something alive and steady.
I ran a hand over his fur, blinking back the sting in my eyes.
“Maybe I’m just being dramatic.”
“You’re not,” Lena said softly.
“You never are,” Sloane added. “You’re just… intense. It’s kind of your thing.”
I laughed, hollow. “Well, the thing’s not working anymore.”
There was a knock on the door.
All three of us froze.
Lena stood. “I’ll get it.”
She opened the door just enough to see.
A pause.
“It’s Trace. And Alden.”
I tensed.
Sloane looked between us. “Want us to stay?”
I swallowed. “No. I’ll talk to them.”
Lena gave me a look. “Scream if they’re weird.”
“I’ll scream either way.”
I sat there with Hemingway in my lap, my heart thudding, waiting for the two men I no longer knew how to look at to step into the room.
I didn’t stand when they came in.
Trace shut the door behind them. Alden hovered just inside, his hands shoved in his pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them.
Neither of them spoke.
I looked at Hemingway, curled in my lap like he was the only thing that hadn’t lied to. Then I looked at the two of them. These boys. These... liars.
“Well?” I said. “Which one of you is going to start the speech? The one where you finally admit you’ve been playing secret agents while I’ve been sleeping in the middle of a war zone?”
I moved Hemingway off my lap and stood, slow.
“Because it sure fucking feels like that.”
I paused—then added, quieter, bitter,
“And if this ends with you trying to drag me off to some safe-house, you better start figuring out how to earn my trust back. Because whatever’s coming, you don’t get to protect me unless I say so.”
Trace took a step forward, hand dragging down his face like he was trying to keep it together. “Scarlett—”
