Chapter 10 #2
Another car horn outside. Closer this time. I glanced at the window automatically, dormer showing dark rooftops, the basilica lit in the distance. No movement. No threats visible. But they were out there. Searching.
The laptop screen reflected in her sight. Blue light making her look even more worn down. She blinked slowly, like her eyelids were weighted.
She’d been running on adrenaline and caffeine for days. Finally stopped, her body was shutting down.
“Trying to find removal procedures,” she said through a yawn. “See if it’s possible to take out without... without...”
Her words faded. Head dipped forward, then jerked back up.
She typed another word. Stopped mid-letter. Finger hovering over the key.
The finger didn’t move. Just stayed there, suspended.
Three days of taking care of me. Barely sleeping. Barely eating. Committing felonies. Watching me kill. Running.
And destroying herself trying to fix what they’d done to me.
I reached over. Closed the laptop gently.
“We need answers.” Weak protest. Didn’t open it again though. Didn’t even reach for it.
Wrote: You need rest.
“I’m fine.”
I stared at her. Long enough that she looked away.
Wrote: No. You’re not.
She stared at the words but her strength was cracking. The sarcasm and competence and stubborn determination finally hitting the wall of human limits.
“I can’t stop.” Barely above a whisper. “If I stop looking. If I rest. Something might happen. Someone might find us. You might get worse. I can’t...”
Spiraling. About failing. About losing.
Wrote three words:
Rest. Please. Trust.
Fatigue filled her sight. She blinked hard, refusing to let it fall. But one escaped anyway, tracking down her cheek.
Reached up without thinking. Caught it with my thumb. Her skin warm and soft under the callused pad.
She froze. Looked at me. Those golden orbs wide.
My hand lingered against her cheek. Rough fighter’s hand cradling her face like she might break.
She leaned into the touch. Just slightly. Just enough.
Heat flooded through me again. Different this time. Not just protectiveness. Want. Need. The desire to pull her closer, to...
I pulled my hand back. Too much. Too fast. She’d said she trusted me. Couldn’t abuse that.
But she was still looking at me. Breathing shallow. Color rising in her cheeks.
The space between us felt charged. Electric.
Clare yawned before smiling. As soon as she turned back to the screen, her head dipped. She caught herself, palms flat on the desk.
Wanted to touch her again. Pull her away from the laptop. Make her rest.
But she had to choose. Had to trust me enough to let go of control.
She opened the laptop again. Started typing. Made three mistakes in the first sentence.
Weapon. Killer. But also: person. She’d said so.
Make sure she survived. Even if it meant protecting her from herself.
Her typing slowed. Stopped.
Her head tilted, like she was listening to something far away.
Then her weight shifted. Settling against my shoulder with the absolute trust of complete exhaustion.
Breathing slowed. Deepened.
I sat completely still, afraid to move. Her weight settled against my shoulder, trust so complete it made my chest ache.
Her head found the curve of my neck like her body knew mine. Fingers still resting near the keyboard.
Closed the laptop with my free hand. Room softened to yellow light from the bare bulb overhead.
Need to move her to bed. Simple. Necessary.
Stood slowly, carefully. Her weight shifted as I moved, slumping forward without my support. I caught her automatically. One hand behind her back. The other sliding under her knees.
My shoulder screamed in protest as I lifted her, but didn’t stop.
Three steps. Just three.
Her head settled against my shoulder.
Floorboards creaked. Her hair brushed my jaw, soft and smelling faintly of shampoo from days ago.
Reached the narrow bed. I bent from my knees, taking the strain in my legs instead of my destroyed shoulder, lowering her carefully onto the thin mattress.
Her head found the pillow. Body relaxed into the mattress. Arm fell to the side, fingers curling.
She made a sound. Not quite a word. Just exhaustion given voice.
Straightened. Released her reluctantly.
Reached for the duvet folded at the foot of the bed. Spread it over her, tucking it around her shoulders. She curled toward warmth instinctively, peaceful.
Wanted to smooth the hair from her face. Touch her one more time.
Didn’t do it.
Just stood there, watching her sleep.
The curve of her cheek. The way her lashes cast shadows. The vulnerability of sleep.
Beautiful. Dangerous thought. Couldn’t afford thoughts like that.
Stepped back. My shoulder screaming again, fever building, exhaustion catching up.
The wall met my back.
Sat down against the wall near the bed. Let gravity pull me down. Close enough to watch her, watch the door, watch the window showing dark rooftops and distant basilica lights.
She was safe. For now.
The manhunt outside. The chip inside. The questions without answers. All of it still there, still pressing.
But underneath all that weight: something else. Something newer.
The feeling of her head finding that curve against my neck. Her fingers wrapped around my wrist. Her body trusting mine completely even in sleep.
Her saying: You’re a person, Xavier.
Person. Not just weapon.
Maybe both. Weapon pointed in the right direction. Protecting her.
Would kill anyone who tried to hurt her. And that felt right. Purposeful.
Maybe that was enough.
Watch. Keep her safe. Keep her breathing.
The radiator hissed its familiar rhythm. Somewhere below, a door slammed. Voices in Arabic, someone arguing, then laughing. Normal sounds. The building alive around us.
The distant basilica lights reminded me there was a whole world beyond these four walls. A world hunting us.
But in this room: warmth. Safety. Her.
I watched her.
My vision grew heavy. Fought it. Needed to stay awake. Needed to watch.
But exhaustion pulled at me too. Days of pain and running and fear finally demanding their price.
Just for a few minutes. Just rest my sight for a few minutes.
She was safe. The door was locked. I’d hear anyone coming up those creaking stairs long before they reached us.
A few minutes.
For the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt safe enough to stop fighting.
My eyes closed.
And I let them.