Page 11 of Protect Thy Enemy

A few clinks and a muffled swear later, she’s grumbling in my ear. “Alright, give me a second.”

I wait in the dim, echoey parking garage, leaning against my car as I listen for Luna’s footsteps.

A few minutes later, she shuffles in, rubbing her eyes and tossing me a look somewhere between pity and “I told you so.”

She’s wrapped in an oversized hoodie, pajama bottoms, and slippers, and even with sleep still clinging to her, she looks aware enough to lecture me. “You owe me,” she says, already moving toward the hood.

“Put it on my tab,” I say, trying to lighten the mood, which she answers with an annoyed eye roll.

She pops the hood, pushing up her sleeves like she’s been up for hours. “Alright, tell me what it’s doing.”

“Nothing. Just clicks.”

Luna lets out a sigh, hands flying over the wires and connections in practiced movements, even in the dim garage light. Thanks to years of learning under Papa Joe, she's always been good with cars. Watching her now, I can almost hear the lectures he’d give us on oil changes, engine checks, and how you couldn’t just hope for a car to work. It needed respect. Regular care.

Things I, admittedly, overlook.

Often.

Sue me, I’m just a girl.

She pauses, lifting an eyebrow at me. “You know, if you’d just let me help out with the battery…”

“It’s fine, really. No pity party needed,” I reply, probably too quickly.

“Wasn’t offering one,” she replies, nudging my shoulder as she goes back to work. “But that pride of yours will leave you stranded one day. Alright, give it a try,” Luna says, stepping back with an exasperated sigh as I turn the key again.

Nothing. Just the same lifeless click.

I slump back against the seat, dread creeping in as I glance at the clock.

Luna’s lips press into a thin line, and she lets out a slow, resigned breath. “Okay, up. You’re coming with me.”

I look over at her in surprise. “Luna, you don’t have to—”

“Oh, believe me,I know.” She’s already walking toward her car. A sleek black coupe with tinted windows and quiet power, like her books, is somehow brought to life. She unlocks it with a sharp beep, then jerks her head toward the passenger side. “Now get in. I’ll never be able to live with myself if I stand by and let you get fired because you don’t know how to ride the Metro.”

Not needing to be told twice, I grab my things and slip into the seat beside her, glancing her way as she navigates the ramps out of the garage with one hand on the wheel, her other already reaching for the knob that controls the heat.

Luna drums her fingers on the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead. She doesn’t say much, but she doesn’t have to. We’ve always had this unspoken rhythm, the kind you only get with someone who’s seen you at your worst and stayed anyway.

Her parents took me in when no one else would—fed me, clothed me, and gave me a place to sleep when the world felt like it was caving in. Luna didn’t ask for a sister, but she got one anyway. And somehow, she’s never made me feel like an obligation.

She’s silent for a minute, but I can tell it’s just because she’s a little grouchy from being up earlier than noon on a weekday.

Then she sighs as if the silence will kill her. “Next time, Arden, just let me buy you the damn battery.”

She doesn’t look at me, but I feel the emotions behind her words as they settle in the space between us.

Luna’s always been the voice of reason when my pride gets the better of me, but it doesn’t make it easier to hear.

***

I step into the debriefing room with literal seconds to spare, the heavy door clicking shut behind me. As expected, every head turns in my direction. I feel the weight of their stares but ignore it, keeping my chin high and my steps steady.

No Harris at the front of the room. No Agent Grant either.

Thank God.

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