Page 203 of Their Arrangement

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I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at my feet. Wolfe stood. Stilled.

“You’re okay.”

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t reassurance. It was a reminder. I nodded. Even though I wasn’t.

He walked over. Held the bag in one hand. Then paused.

“What did the note say?”

I swallowed.

Hard.

“Nothing. Just a warning.”

“From who?”

I didn’t answer. His jaw ticked once. Then he nodded. Just once.

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“I’ll find out on my own.”

That made me look up.

Eyes wide.

“Wolfe—what did you do?”

He tilted his head. Didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe.

“I handled it.”

The room was too small suddenly. Or I was too much. Or he was too much.

“Did you…?”

“No.”

His answer was sharp. Final.

“He’s gone. But not because of me.”

Not directly,was what he didn’t say.

And I didn’t press. Because I didn’t want to know what Wolfe was capable of. I already had an idea. And it terrified me almost as much as it comforted me.

He held out his hand. I stared at it. Then reached for it with fingers that didn’t feel like mine. When he pulled me to my feet, I didn’t stumble. But I came close.

Walking into the Lawlor building felt like stepping into judgment. The lobby lights were too bright. The glass walls too transparent. The click of my heels sounded like alarms. I wore Wolfe’s coat. It swallowed me. Covered the bruises. Covered the fear. But nothing could cover the weight.

People looked. They always did. But today? They stared. Not at the bruises. Not at the coat. At Wolfe. And the fact that I was walking beside him.

Close.

Too close.

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