Page 75 of Aïdes the Unseen
“You expect me to believe you’re one of the good guys?”
“No,” I said quietly. Never would I seek to control her impressions. Never. “I expect you to believe I’m trying.”
The dog—the not-dog—pressed his body gently against her leg. Not forcing her. Just present. Grounded.
Her fingers curled once at her side, then relaxed. Some of the heat left her eyes. For a moment, she looked tired. Then tempted. Then human again.
It was that woman who looked at me, really looked, as if peeling back all my layers. From the warrior to the executive, the researcher, and all the way down to the shadow I’d let myself become.
Something in her gaze flickered withmemory. Not full recognition. But the beginning of it. Her shoulders dropped by an inch. “Fine,” she said. “But I pick the place.”
A faint, unexpected smile pulled at the corners of my mouth. This was so much more than I could have expected. I would not spoil the moment. “Deal.”
She turned, and the dog followed. I stepped into place beside her. One heartbeat behind. Exactly where I always had been.
We walked in silence at first, down the corridor lined with ferns and filtered light. Irina didn’t speak again until we neared her office. She gave me a side glance—measuring, wary still—but motioned for me to wait by the threshold.
“I need something,” she murmured, and disappeared inside.
The not-dog followed at her heel with the kind of precision that saidguard, notpet. But when she opened a drawer near her desk and pulled out a soft charcoal-gray leash and matching collar, his ears flicked back and his shoulders drooped slightly. Not in resistance. More in visible, offendeddignity.
Irina noticed immediately.
“Oh, come on,” she said gently, kneeling beside him. “You don’t need it, I know that. Youprobablyunderstand traffic laws better than half the drivers out there. But rules are rules, and I don’t want anyone getting the idea that you’re lost orunattended.” Her voice dipped. “I don’t want anyone taking you.”
The dog’s reaction was instant and subtle: the tension melted out of him, his head lowering, muzzle brushing her knee. More quiet agreement than submission. An understanding. It was a moment of unguarded affection so clear, so instinctively intimate, it stopped me. Not because of the display itself.
But because something in me…achedat it.
She could say she didn’t remember. She could fight the recognition rising inside her. But this creature—this presence she hadn’t even named yet—had earned her claim. That was exactly what it was, too: aclaim. Spoken gently, yes. But there, all the same. She chose him.
I remembered what it was like to be chosen by her, and I remembered what it cost her every time.
She clipped the leash with a softclickand stood. “I want to walk to the park,” she said.
“It’s a few blocks,” I replied, not objecting.
“I know.” There was no challenge in her voice now. Just a quiet need for space, for distance. For air.
“Then we’ll walk,” I said.
We left the Annex through the side entrance. Not as grand as the atrium, but quieter. Better. The door hissed shut behind us, sealing off the cold scent of jasmine tea and unanswered questions.
“Will you tell me about the letter?” The question was hesitant, almost unnerved as if she had no idea how I might react.
“Eventually,” I promised “But not now.” Even I didn’t want to know what it contained. I wanted to be here, now, in the present.
The city’s damp morning pressed in immediately, a concrete wet with the thin sheen of rain not quite over. The air was ripewith ozone and the faint chemical musk of spring trying to push through industrial rot.
Irina stepped onto the sidewalk first, the leash looped loosely in her hand. The not-dog pressed close, ears high, eyes tracking. I fell into place at her opposite side. Neither of us spoke.
We bracketed her.
Anyone watching might not have noticed. It wasn’t overt. But to those whoknew—wholooked—there would be no mistaking our positions. This was not a casual walk.
This was escort.
Protection.
