Page 73 of Sanctuary

He doesn’t say anything. Just sits beside me, breathing heavily, until I straighten up. “I’m fine,” I tell him.

He doesn’t believe me, but he also doesn’t argue. He checks the watch he’s had in his pocket—an old-fashioned kind that winds up. “We’ve got almost an hour to wait until the others are in place.”

“Okay.”

“This is convenient for us. If Weasel was on site, I’d have to try to stall him.”

“I know.”

He searches my face, his mouth and eyes softening at whatever he sees. He reaches out like he’s going to touch my cheek but drops his hand before he does. Instead, he pulls out his canteen, twists off the top, and then hands it to me.

I take a couple of gulps of water. Hold the canteen in both hands and breathe until I can take a few more sips.

Aidan drinks after me before he screws on the top. “When it’s time, I’ll tie your hands again but use a knot you can pull out yourself. We should be able to move around inside the building without challenge. We’ll go down to the back door. Make sure it’s unlocked and then head for the back gate on the wall. They should have taken care of the guards there by then, and we’ll let them.”

We’ll let them in.

As easy as that. As simple.

There’s no way in hell it will go without incident. For one thing, there will be at least one guard on the back door of the hotel. And as soon as we start moving toward the gate, someone is going to see us and get suspicious.

I don’t say any of that, however. It would serve no purpose. Aidan knows it all as well as I do.

He volunteered for this mission knowing there was a good chance he wouldn’t be getting out of it alive.

He claimed last night he wasn’t looking to be a sacrifice, but he sure as hell is hoping for redemption. He can talk about balancing the scales all he wants, but I can see a lot more than that in the guilt that sometimes flickers across his expression.

Redemption never comes easy. Sometimes it takes everything.

I try to put all the pain and fear aside the way I used to. Force it back into a small, dark corner so I can function. So I won’t fall apart.

I can’t.

I gasp and lean forward again, lowering my head between my knees as the tidal wave of dizziness floods me. I almost pass out.

Aidan puts a hand on my back, sliding it up to the nape of my neck. He’s not pushing or pulling or exerting any force at all. He’s holding me gently. After a minute, he starts gently massaging my neck.

“I can do this,” I whisper when I’ve managed to catch my breath.

“I know you can.”

“I don’t know why I’m falling apart right now.”

“All the shit in life follows us, even when we try to leave it behind. Itfollowsus. And it will always finally catch us. Try to beat us down. It will always try to win.”

I straighten up, but Aidan doesn’t drop his hand. He’s holding onto one of my braids now. “I’m not going to let it win.”

“I know you won’t, love.” His eyes are different. Nakedly tender. “You’ve always been stronger than me.”

A sob lodges hard in my throat but doesn’t break. “You don’t have to let it win either.”

“I’m trying not to. I’ve allowed it to win for far too long, so I let it become too strong. But I’m fighting back now, knowing it won’t be enough.”

I don’t like the sound of that. The resignation. Not like he’s giving up but like he expects only the worst outcome. “Aidan, please. You can make it through this too.”

“I’m going to try. Because, despite how I’ve treated you, I can see that my survival will matter to you. But you can see the numbers as clearly as I can. We’re not all going to make it out of this alive.”

“I know.” The unbroken sob threatens to choke me. I shake silently and squeeze my eyes closed.

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