Chapter Fifty-Four
Raine
The noise hits first. Not sound. Noise. A wall of it slamming into my skull the second we turn onto First Avenue.
Voices layer over one another, over the metallic twang of an electric guitar from a busker on the corner, the shouts of the fishmongers, the slap of salmon landing on a slab of ice.
There’s too much. I can’t separate it. Can’t make sense of it.
Colors are too loud. The sunlight burns my eyes, even through the sunglasses Asher gave me before we left the safe house.
Asher keeps his hand at the small of my back, angling his body to try to shield me, but he might as well be a ghost for all the good it’s doing.
Someone clips my left shoulder. Panic cinches tight around my throat. I swallow a whimper, turning closer to Asher.
“Breathe for me,” he says, his voice steady, only inches from my ear. “We’re almost through it.”
The scent of taffy is too sweet, and suddenly, all I can taste is that thick, chemical food. Flooding my mouth. Choking me.
I used to be able to track three conversations at once while slipping through crowds like this. It was never easy, but it didn’t leave me shattered. Now, I can’t even manage a shallow breath without bracing for pain.
Dipping my left hand into my pocket, I find the ridges of Asher’s coin.
I’m not back there.
No one’s hurting me. My wrists and ankles are free. There’s no hood. No oppressive silence broken only by the whir of the cameras and the unrelenting gusts from the ventilation.
My body is sure I’m lying to it.
My heart hammers against my ribs like it’s trying to break free. My vision tunnels at the edges. Someone laughs too loudly behind me.
I flinch, bracing for a correction that never comes.
They took this from me. The simple ability to walk through a crowd without breaking into pieces. They stripped me down until I was nothing but raw nerves and conditioned responses, and now I’m about to shatter amid a crowd that might as well be a mine field.
I drag my thumb over the coin again. Focus on the ridges. The weight of it.
My pulse is still too high. Count. Four beats per inhale. Hold. Six beats out. The roar of static in my head doesn’t disappear, but it quiets enough for me to isolate some of the chaos into manageable pieces.
A young woman asking about fresh clams. The rumble of an engine from a delivery truck halfway up the block. The scent of roses from a vendor with buckets and buckets of flowers for sale.
Asher guides me through the worst of it and toward the viewing deck that overlooks Puget Sound. As soon as we step through the heavy glass door, I sag against him.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I whisper.
He presses his lips to the top of my head—over the floppy hat hiding my face from view. “You just did.”
I give myself one more moment in his arms, then draw in a breath that’s mostly steady. “We’re leaving another way. A quieter one.”
His voice reassures me more than anything. “You lead. I’ll follow.”
Asher
I don’t like leaving Raine in an alcove off Post Alley. Hell, I hate leaving her alone anywhere. Especially after seeing how much the crowds overwhelmed her.
We had to approach from the east. Her body isn’t ready for the hill climb yet. Or the tight space of the single elevator.
The alcove gives her a solid wall of stone at her back and sight lines for every approach vector. No cameras, and a quick exit—if she needs it.
“Five minutes. No more.” I tug the dark blue baseball cap lower over my eyes. “Anything feels off, you run.”
She nods, and fuck. I wish I could see her eyes. But the sunglasses block out everything.
“Be careful,” she finally manages.
I offer her a half smile before I turn. “Always.”
Claire steps off the curb without looking up from her phone. Thank fuck. Distraction makes this ten times easier.
I adjust my stride so I reach her as two separate walkways converge and the crowds are forced to adjust around one another.
One hand wraps firmly around her upper arm.
I clamp the other over her mouth before she can scream, pull her against me, and steer us behind one of the larger market booths with thick canvas walls that hide us from view.
If anyone in the crowd noticed us, daylight and the illusion of safety in public should keep them quiet.
Claire screams, but my palm and the incessant rumble of people keep the sound from traveling.
She claws at my arm. I spin her, press her back to the wall, and take off my sunglasses before using my forearm to hold her in place.
Only enough pressure for her to understand I’m serious. Not so much I’m causing her pain.
“I won’t hurt you, Claire. But I need you to come with me.”
Her eyes widen at the use of her name. As she drives her heel toward my foot, I shift so she catches nothing but air.
“Keep fighting,” I say, my voice firm, “and this gets complicated. I don’t want complicated. I want two minutes of your time, after which I’ll let you go—unharmed—and you never have to see me again.”
She goes very still, her green eyes calculating. Escape? Or agreement?
“It took me less than ten seconds to get you away from the crowd. That should tell you something.”
Her body sags slightly. I arch my brows. “No screaming?”
Claire shakes her head, and I remove my hand.
“What do you want?” Her voice is shaky.
“To go for a little walk. South past the fish stand, to Post Alley, then to an alcove near the elevator. Everything will make sense once we get there. I’ll keep hold of your arm, but I won’t touch you in any other way.”
She studies me, still afraid, but no longer shaking. “If you wanted to hurt me, you’d have done it already.”
“Correct. I’m not here for my health, Claire. I’m here because you’re the only person who might be able to help us stop some very bad people from doing very bad things.”
“Us?” she asks. “Who is ‘us’?”
“Come with me and you’ll find out.” At her nod, I wrap my hand around her upper arm. “We’re just two friends walking through the market. Let’s keep it that way.”