Page 56 of Knight

“Someone leftsomething.” I scroll through more timestamps. “Whether it’s a message or a trap remains to be seen.”

The tablet screen blurs slightly as exhaustion tries to reclaim me. Glitch’s warmth behind me doesn’t help my concentration. Neither does the memory of waking up wrapped around her. It’s a betrayal of everything I need to maintain.

“You should try and get more sleep.” Her voice is soft.

“I need to work.”

“You need to rest.” Her hand touches my arm, and I tense. “You can’t solve this if you’re exhausted. I know you don’t like to admit it, but you’re not a computer.”

I want to snap at her, pull away from the oddly gentle concern in her voice. I want to remind her that she’s part of whatever game is being played. Instead, I find myself fighting against the urge to let her win this round.

“Sleep. It’s all going to still be there in a few hours.”

She’s right, which just makes it worse. Tiredness is pulling at me, making it harder to focus on the timestamps I need to understand. Harder to remember why I shouldn’t trust her quiet presence beside me.

“Two hours,” I concede. “Then we need to move.”

This time when we settle onto the bed, I make sure I’m on the far edge, away from her. As sleep claims me again, I can’t shakethe feeling that someone deliberately left those patterns in the logs. Whether it’s a warning or a trap, I’ll need better equipment to figure that out.

And I need to stop letting Glitch’s presence affect my ability to think clearly.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Evangeline

Sunlighton my face drags me back to consciousness, and with it the immediate realization that Knight isn’t here. There’s a moment of panic while my sleep-sluggish brain thinks he’s abandoned me here, but then I spot his tablet on the table. There’s no way he’d have left that behind.

The relief that floods through me is unsettling. I shouldn’t care that he might have left. I shouldn’t feel safer knowing that he’s going to return. But nothing about this situation makes sense anymore, especially not my reactions to it.

The cheap digital clock shows 7.13 A.M. My body protests as I ease off the bed, muscles I didn’t even know I had aching from crawling through what seemed like miles of maintenance tunnels. The bandages on my wrists are going to need changing again, but I’m not touching them until he returns. I’m still too tired to defend myself against the biting sarcasm that seems to be his default setting, and the last thing I need is him getting irritated about amateur first aid attempts.

The lock clicks while I’m stretching and trying to work out the kinks from sleeping in an unfamiliar bed, and I spin toward the door, heart racing. Knight shoulders his way in carrying paper bags and a drink tray.

“Breakfast.” He kicks the door shut behind him. “Try not to look so disappointed that I came back.”

“I didn’t—” But the protest dies as he sets one of the paper cups in front of me, and the smell of coffee reaches my nose. “You got coffee?”

“Liquid gold. One of the necessities of life.” He unpacks containers onto the table. “Wasn’t sure how you take it, so grabbed some cream and sugar.” He pulls out a carton of milk, and a sugar pot.

“Did youstealthat?”

“The price they charged for the coffee, I prefer to see it as taking what I’m paying for. Eat while it’s hot.”

The styrofoam containers reveal pancakes, eggs, and bacon.Realfood, not just drive-through burgers. My stomach growls embarrassingly loud.

“Where did you go? Weren’t you afraid of being seen?”

"Little place three blocks over has terrible security and decent coffee," Knight says, settling into the chair across from me. "Owner hasn't updated their cameras since 1995." His attention keeps shifting to the window, something about his posture setting off warning bells in my head.

“What are you looking for?”

“Nothing. Eat your breakfast.” He turns away, tapping the screen on the tablet, and sips his coffee.

The pancakes are surprisingly good, or maybe I’m just hungry enough that anything would taste amazing right now. Knight picks at his own breakfast, already absorbed in whatever he’s reading on the screen, and I find myself watching his hands, as he taps and swipes.

His head snaps up at a sound outside. It’s just a car door closing, but his reaction tells me everything I need to know about whether he feels safe here.

“We need to move soon.” His words confirm my thoughts, and he sets the tablet down. “This place is too exposed.”

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