7. Robin
Robin
I move because Eva commands it.
Her hand squeezes mine hard—burning, claiming, never letting go. It’s comforting.
“We have to go,” she tells me calmly. “Come.”
My feet move because she commands them to.
Leon’s massive frame cuts through the smoke ahead of us, assault rifle tracking shadows. My bare feet slip on grit and something wet that I refuse to look at. The building groans around us like a dying beast.
“Keep moving,” Leon rumbles, voice rough as gravel. “Two more corners.”
Eva’s hand slides into mine and she squeezes my fingers, giving me a glance over her shoulder. Something red streaks her right cheekbone and dark hair is escaping from her ponytail, but even so, it feels like the corridor bends around her gravity. Even the smoke seems to part for her passage.
My mind keeps fracturing, skipping like a broken record.
When the door banged open and I saw her silhouetted there, I thought I’d lost my mind, that my brain had conjured a dark angel with death trailing in her wake. But when those amber eyes—molten, lethal—locked onto me?—
“Robin.” Eva’s voice brings me back. “Step over.”
I blink. There’s a body sprawled across our path, arm flung wide, dark blood spreading beneath him. My stomach lurches. But I step where she tells me, move over the dead man as though he’s simply another obstacle among the debris.
“Eyes on me,” she says, and it’s not unkind, but it’s absolutely final.
I obey because I’m not steady enough to do anything else. Because if Eva lets go of my hand, I’ll shatter. If she tells me to run, I’ll try. If she tells me to breathe, I’ll force that too. The shame of my weakness burns, but not as hot as the relief.
She came for me.
And she seems to have brought a whole army with her to get me back.
How could I ever have thought it would end differently?
Leon raises two fingers. We freeze. He melts forward, silent despite his size, and I hear nothing, then the soft clack of suppressed shots. One. Two. He reappears with barely a nod. Clear.
We move.
A fluorescent light flickers and dies, and the fresh darkness makes me stumble into Eva’s back.
She absorbs the impact, her palm dropping to my hip to steady me—that touch quick and possessive.
When she glances over her shoulder, her mask slips for just a second.
Pure fear breaks through like sunlight through storm clouds.
“Debris ahead,” she tells me. “Careful.”
I nod. Words feel impossible. The smoke has stolen them, left me mute as a doll.
Around the corner, Leon checks another doorway. Eva positions me against the wall while he works, her body angled to shield me from whatever might come through that door.
“Clear,” Leon reports.
“Move,” Eva orders.
I move.
I keep thinking: She came for me .
And I keep thinking: Look what it cost .
“Almost there.” Eva squeezes my hand again. “Focus on me.”
I nod. My entire universe has collapsed down to her fingers in mine. I know what she is, now. I really know it. Can’t pretend any longer, not when the proof of it surrounds me, sticks to me.
And I love her anyway. Even knowing what she is.
Maybe especially knowing what she is.
She cried in the first few seconds after finding me. No one else would have noticed—Eva Novak doesn’t break, doesn’t show weakness, doesn’t let anyone see behind the icy mask.
But I saw the sheen over those amber eyes, saw them gleam with tears for a moment before she blinked them back.
The gunfire in the distance fades to echoes as Leon hustles us toward the exit, my legs barely holding me upright.
Eva’s arm encircles my waist, practically carrying me toward the black truck idling in the alley.
Leon pulls open the back door and Eva lets him take me from her, lift me up into the back of the truck.
Inside, a woman with long dark hair and thick bangs gives me a smile.
“Hello,” she says, as though we’re meeting at a cocktail party.
“I’m Scarlett. Come and sit down and let me have a look at you. ”
“Scarlett is our field medic for today,” Eva tells me, pulling herself in after me and sitting close. I’m grateful for her presence—but I keep a close watch on Leon, who climbs in to sit opposite us.
“We good?” calls a voice from the front. I jerk my head up to see who it is—a woman with wild red hair sits in the driver’s seat, and a sleek brunette riding shotgun turns to look back at me.
“That’s Caitlin in the driver’s seat,” Eva says in an even tone, “and her wife, Juno, is next to her. They’re going to get us out of here.”
“Caitlin will get us free and clear,” Juno assures me, her voice carrying the absolute authority I also associate with Eva. “And if the Gattos follow, I’ll enjoy making them think twice about it.” She gives a cool smile and holds up an assault rifle.
I look away quickly, turn to Eva, who touches my face. “They’re safe,” she says softly. “Allies of mine. And you’re safe, too.”
My head spins trying to process this. All these people banded together to rescue me , to tear apart a rival, to risk themselves and their empires…
And they’re treating it like a normal night. For them, I suppose, it is.
The vehicle takes off, and after the first lurch, we settle into the rhythm.
Scarlett’s hands are gentle but efficient as she examines and bandages the wounds on my wrists and ankles, checks my pupils, presses fingers to my pulse points.
“Dehydrated,” she announces. “Some bruising. Nothing broken, no concussion. But you’ll want a course of antibiotics—we can get those for you once we’re back. ”
Eva leans in closer to Scarlet and says a single word: “Nik?” I wish I knew what she was asking, because Scarlett’s hazel eyes darken.
“She’ll be okay. Some of the Styxies took her back to the city after I stabilized her. We won’t be far behind them.”
How many people have been injured tonight, how many have died, because of me?
Caitlin is navigating the desert as though she knows exactly where she’s going, even though there’s no road that I can see. The truck bounces over rocks and scrub, but her hands on the wheel are steady and sure.
“Company,” Juno announces, checking the side mirror. “Two vehicles closing fast.”
I twist to look through the back window and see twin sets of headlights cutting through the darkness, gaining on us rapidly. Even in the dim light, I can make out the distinctive angular silhouettes of armored vehicles.
Eva’s expression hardens as she peers out. “Those are Consortium models.”
“Your people?” Scarlett asks.
“No.” Eva’s voice is ice. “But someone with access to our inventory.”
Caitlin’s eyes meet Eva’s in the rearview mirror. “How bulletproof is this vehicle we’re in, exactly?”
“We’re about to find out,” Juno says grimly, putting down her window and readying her assault rifle. “Watch out?—”
Shots ring out—sharp cracks that make me flinch violently. The rear window spider-webs but doesn’t shatter. My hands instinctively cover my ears as Juno starts to shoot back.
“Hold on!” Caitlin shouts, yanking the wheel hard to the right.
The truck lurches sickeningly, tilting up on two wheels for a heart-stopping moment before slamming back down. My stomach drops as we careen down a steep embankment, rocks and debris spraying up from our tires.
The rifle’s report is deafening in the confined space. I curl into Eva, pressing my palms harder against my ears, trying to block out the sound that feels like it’s splitting my skull open.
“There!” Juno calls out with satisfaction. “Got the tire!”
Through the rear window, I see the left vehicle swerve wildly as its front tire shreds. It veers off course, bouncing over a boulder before coming to a violent stop against a cluster of Joshua trees.
“One down,” Juno says with satisfaction, already lining up another shot.
But Caitlin is already three moves ahead. She wrenches the wheel left, then right, sending us into a controlled skid around a rock formation. The remaining vehicle tries to follow but takes the turn too fast, its heavier frame working against it.
“Amateur,” Caitlin mutters, executing another sharp turn that has us practically driving on two wheels again. Then she does something that makes us take off fast, straight ahead, leaving nothing but desert dust in our wake.
“Lost them,” Juno reports.
But Caitlin doesn’t slow down until we’ve put several miles and countless twists and turns between us and our pursuers. Only then does she ease up on the accelerator, her knuckles finally relaxing on the steering wheel.
“Nice driving,” Eva says quietly.
Caitlin grins into the mirror. “Street racing in the Bronx. Best education a girl can get. Anyway, we’re clear.”
“Stay sharp, though,” Juno adds.
But now there’s only one thing that I care about. “My family?” The words scrape past my raw throat, barely a whisper.
Eva’s hand finds mine, fingers interlacing. “They’re safe. All of them. We’re going straight to see them. They’re waiting for you at the Golden Sands, which is owned by another ally of mine.”
The simple words shatter something inside me. Relief crashes over me in waves, and suddenly I’m sobbing—ugly, broken sounds that I can’t control. Eva pulls me against her, letting me bury my face in her shoulder.
“Shh,” she murmurs, stroking my hair. “You’re safe now. It’s over.”
But I hate this. Hate feeling weak and broken while these powerful people watch. Hate that I’m clinging to Eva like a child when I should be strong. When I should be grateful they risked their lives for me.
Eva seems to sense my thoughts. Her arms tighten around me, voice fierce in my ear. “You survived. That’s what matters.”
I force myself to stop crying, wiping my eyes with shaking hands. Through the window, I catch glimpses of the Vegas lights getting closer. Safety. And my family, thank God. But first?—