Page 209 of Their Arrangement
Back in my office, I shut the door harder than I meant to. The silence hit too fast. Like it had been waiting for me to come home.
I stood there for a moment. Jaw tight. Breath locked behind my teeth. Then I moved. Took off my coat. Dropped it over the back of the chair like I was shedding something heavier than fabric.
Loosened my tie.
Didn’t sit.
Just paced.
Two steps.
Back.
Again.
I pressed my palm to the glass. It was cold. Grounding.
Through the reflection, I saw her.
Cloe.
Still outside the conference room.
Still pale.
Still watching.
She didn’t knock. Didn’t move. Just waited. But I couldn’t go to her yet.
Not like this. Not with my hands still itching to kill. Not with the rage still coiled behind my ribs like a second spine.
I turned.
Grabbed my phone.
Typed the message to London.
Because someone started this.
And I was going to finish it. The sound madethe glass tremble.
My hands braced on the edge of the desk. I didn’t sit. I didn’t breathe. I opened a thread I hadn’t touched in months.
Typed:
We need to talk.
Now.
Ten seconds later, one word returned:
Understood.
London.
The only person I trusted to know what kind of war was coming. Because he’d survived it before. Because we both had. And this time? This time, I wasn’t walking away until someone bled for her.
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