Page 63 of Make Them Cry
River, curled up in that blanket. Whispering about Mask.
How she feels safe with him.
How she wants to meet him.
And it kills me, because I’m righthere.
But I can’t come clean. Not yet. Not when every step closer puts her more at risk.
She deserves to feel safe.
Not hunted.
Not used.
Loved.
Even if she never knows it’s me.
My phone buzzes. A text from Knight:
Confirmed — Regent’s uploading again. Using a relay inside NovaPlay’s backup tunnels. Probably prepping for another data dump.
Then another:
We’ve got one shot at this, Gage. Hope your plan’s solid.
I grind out the cigarette and type back:
She’s not getting hurt again. Not on my watch.
I look up at the sky. It’s dark now. Heavy.
Storm’s coming.
Let it.
TWENTY-ONE
RIVER
The safehouse hums like a held breath.
Pipes tick. The fridge answers. The tiny red camera light blinks—one, two, three—like a heartbeat I keep pretending isn’t mine. I’m folded into the corner chair with my laptop open and nothing useful on the screen. My code sits there, polite and inert, while my brain reruns the same loop:
If Mask is Gage… would that make everything worse? Or right?
Footsteps in the hall. The keypad beeps and there’s a soft knock before the door unlocks. I stand before I decide to.
Mask steps in—hood up, mask on, black gloves, all shadow and intention. He shuts the door, engages the top latch, and scans the space like he’s cataloging exits and ghosts.
“Hi,” I say, because I’m a normal person who greets her anonymous vigilante at the door.
“River.” My name in that modulated voice skims across my skin. He sets a small hard case on the table, pops the latches, and pullsout a compact router like it’s a weapon. “We’re chasing a lead. It’s hot. I didn’t want you here alone without a clean line.”
“We?”
“Team,” he says, busy hands precise. “We’ve got a thread on the leak and on Regent’s moderator ring. For a few days, assume every hallway at NovaPlay has ears. No side conversations. No favors. Don’t trust anyone at work.”
