Page 78 of Hunted to Be Mine
“Tonight? Are you insane? Look at you.”
He glanced down at the puddles around his feet.
“You’re soaked. You’re trembling. Your ribs aren’t healed and”—I grabbed a towel and threw it at him—“and you’re swaying.”
He caught the towel with one hand. “I’ve worked under worse.”
“Well, I haven’t.” The words came out like a warning. “And this isn’t an operation, it’s a suicide mission. You haven’t even eaten.”
I yanked the towel back and scrubbed at his hair, the caretaking at odds with the anger working through me.
“You have injuries.” My voice slid into my doctor cadence. “Sleep-deprived, possibly on the edge of hypothermia, and I still haven’t done a proper exam because you won’t let me. Damon said to wait for backup.”
“Damon isn’t here.” Specter stood still under my hands, watching me with that steady, unreadable look. “I am. And right now, we have an advantage that won’t last until morning.”
I finished with the dark strands. They stuck up in messy angles. It should have made him ridiculous. It didn’t. It made him look human.
I kept my voice low. “Tell me what you found that’s worth this.”
“The civilian badges are old, three versions behind what Oblivion usually runs. They’re rushing. Cutting corners.”
“Or it’s a trap.”
A faint smile touched his mouth. “Could be. But I know Oblivion. Traps are careful. This smells like panic.”
I moved to the kitchenette and filled the electric kettle. “You need to warm up before you go anywhere.”
“Selina—”
“That’s non-negotiable.” I set the kettle on its base harder than necessary. “You want to walk back into danger? Fine. But you’re putting something hot in your system first.”
He didn’t argue. That worried me more than anything. Specter always pushed back. Silence meant he was conserving energy.
“We agreed to trust each other.” I softened my tone. “That includes trusting me when I tell you you’re in no condition to do this.”
“I do trust you.”
The kettle started to hum. I kept my back to him so he wouldn’t see what those words did to me.
“If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t have gotten these.”
I turned. He held up two flip phones, cheap burners with earpieces.
“What are those for?”
He set them on the table. “You. And me.”
Understanding hit, cold as a knot under my ribs. “You never planned to wait for Damon, did you? This whole argument was just… theater.”
“Not theater. But yes, I made the call.”
“Without me.” The hurt in my voice surprised both of us.
He stepped closer. “For you. These will keep us connected.”
The kettle clicked off. I ignored it.
“That’s still you going in alone. And me stuck here if something goes wrong.”
