Just act natural.She walked past Liam, pushed open the door, and stepped out into the cool evening air, the sky now streaked with the deep purples and oranges of dusk.
But unfortunately, Liam was a few steps behind. “So, why were you really?—”
“Liam.” Teague smacked his friend on the shoulder as he passed. “Let the pretty girl get back to her site and come to dinner with me.”
He looked ready to say something else, but instead he just nodded at her. “Tomorrow, then.”
And she had no doubt he planned on finishing that question tomorrow. She turned away from him and navigated the quiet village toward her hidden bike. The faint buzz of crickets filled the silence as she kept her pace casual.
Don’t run. Don’t?—
She’d bought herself a day, maybe. And by tomorrow, she’d be gone?—
Aw.And then his comment sat in her gut. Kids in danger.
She needed to deliver the photos and then she could leave.
She reached her bike, got on, and headed back into the dusky shadows. She needed to retrieve her sat equipment before she went anywhere.
But the sense that maybe it didn’t matter followed her.
She was tired of hiding. She knew that the Caleb Group, via Emberly, was doing all it could, but maybe it wasn’t enough. Nimue had found Teresa once—she could find her again. Because she’d never truly be free until Teresa was captured.
And the bounty on her head was canceled.
Maybe it was time to stop playing cat and mouse.
Maybe it was time for her to go on the hunt.
FOUR
Liam jolted upright in his bed, chest heaving, skin slick with cold sweat as Christiana’s scream echoed through his entire body. The look on her face just before she dropped from sight embedded in his mind as clearly as if it had happened yesterday, not six months ago.
He flopped back and tossed the covers aside, drawing in a slow breath that did nothing to slow his hammering heart. His shoulders, still heavy from the dream, seemed to pin him to the mattress, but he couldn’t stay here. All that waited for him was tossing and turning with haunting memories until his alarm went off.
He sat back up and dragged a hand through his hair as he swung his legs over the bed’s edge, the wood floor cool against his bare feet. His muscles ached from the long days, yet he needed to get up, move, burn off this restless energy that had settled under his skin.
Teague lay sprawled across his own bed, his hair—in desperate need of a haircut—covering half his face. The soft snore indicated that the guy was still deep in a REM cycle.
Must be nice.
Liam stood, taking care not to make a sound, and pulled on running shorts, a faded T-shirt, and his trail shoes, their soles worn thin from countless miles lately. The door squeaked as he pulled it open. Teague stirred but didn’t wake. Liam slipped out, easing the door shut behind him, and hurried toward his favorite running trail.
The crisp morning sky faded from deep indigo to pink at the horizon. He didn’t normally start his run for another hour, but he’d grown comfortable enough with this route that the dim light didn’t deter him. It must have dropped below forty last night, and the chill that still clung to the air almost had him retracing his steps to grab a long-sleeve shirt. But he shook off the thought and drew a deep breath, letting the cold burn his lungs. A new day was never a guarantee, and he wasn’t going to squander it. A new day to write his story, as Logan would say. A new day to make sure other people got to keep writing theirs.
Liam’s breath puffed in small clouds as he started down the road toward the closest trail, his long strides eating up the gravel path. A forest quietness settled over the trailhead, and Liam paused his steps to stretch, his calves tight from yesterday’s long shift, then started onto the trail at an even pace. Gravel crunched under his shoes, the sound a familiar anchor.
The route wound through towering pines and passed a meadow where a pair of mule deer grazed in the early light. Their heads lifted, tracking his movement, but they must have decided he wasn’t a threat as they returned to their breakfast. The rhythm of his footfalls slowly grounded him, each step pushing Christiana’s scream further back and dragging him forward to the here and now.
About a mile in, footsteps approached from behind—steady and deliberate, matching his rhythm. He glanced over his shoulder. Noah.
His director’s easy stride suggested the guy had been running these paths for years, his mop of hair tucked under a worn cap and tied back at the nape of his neck. The sun had just crested the tree line, and the brim of Noah’s hat shadowed the only part of his face not covered by his bushy beard.
“Mind if I join you?” Noah said, not breathing hard.
Liam slowed slightly to let Noah catch up. “You’re out early.”
Noah fell into step beside him. “Could say the same about you. You’re usually not out till six. Running from something?”