Page 20 of Make Them Cry
She’s not fine. She’s breaking in real time.
I want to tell her we caught one. That Mason’s finished, his system fried, his Cathedral buddies scattering like rats. But that would mean admitting what I am.WhoI am.
So I stand there and do the one thing I can do without revealing everything—I reach out and gently nudge a coffee mug toward her.
“Drink,” I say softly. “You’ll need it.”
Her eyes flick to mine, uncertain. She picks up the cup, takes a small sip. Her hand steadies a little.
Small victories.
Arrow’s voice buzzes quietly in my earpiece. “Mission complete. Mason’s fired. HR just pulled his access. He’s out.”
I can’t help the grim smile that touches my mouth. “Fuck yeah.”
River catches the expression. “What?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“Gage.”
I meet her eyes. For a moment, it’s like the room falls away. There’s only her—angry, beautiful, hurt—and me, trying not to do something stupid like tell her everything.
“Whatever happens,” I say, careful, low, “you’re not alone in this.”
She looks at me for a beat too long, then back to her screen. “I know.”
No, she doesn’t.
That night,I watch her again—because I can’t not. She walks home with her hood up, earbuds in, the city lights painting gold across her hair. She keeps her head down until she turns the corner by the old bakery.
She doesn’t look back, but I do. I follow the GPS ping Arrow set up on the background sweep, making sure no new threats are tailing her.
When she finally disappears into her building, I stay parked across the street for a few extra minutes, just watching the glow of her window. She moves inside—small, tired motions. Then the light turns off.
Arrow texts.
ARROW: She's safe. Go home.
I type back.
ME: Not yet.
Because I can’t shake the thought: she doesn’t even know someone’s fighting for her.
She doesn’t know I’m the one who put Mason on his knees.
She doesn’t know I’d burn the world before I let her cry again.
And maybe that’s for the best.
Because if she ever looked at me that way… she’d never forgive me for all the ways I’ve already crossed the line.
“She’s being watched again.”
Knight drops the tablet on the folding table between us, screen facing up. A fresh post from Cathedral’s underground board isstill glowing, timestamped six minutes ago. The image? River’s apartment building. Different angle. Different distance.
Same target.
