Page 22 of Over the Edge

“And who’s that?”

“I’m the guy who keeps walking into shit he shouldn’t because I can’t seem to stop myself.”

She poked a finger at my chest. “That is a terrible character trait for someone in your line of work.”

“Yeah, well, at least my life’s never boring.”

“Personally, I wouldn’t mind a bit of boring.” She faced the sea, bracing her hands against ancient stone. The wind gusted, tugging her hair out of its neat twist, bringing with it the scent of the Mediterranean and a trace of that citrus and spice perfume of hers.

She breathed in deeply and lifted her face to the sky. She looked like she wanted to open her arms, throw herself over the edge, and fly away.

If she did, would I stop her?

Or join her?

I’d started freelancing after the military because I’d craved freedom. And I thought I had it. I took the jobs I wanted, turned down the ones I didn’t, and answered to nobody but myself. No uniform, no chain of command, no obligations except the ones I chose.

But, watching her, I realized I was as trapped in this life as she was. Trapped by the need to keep moving, to not look back, to never get too close to anyone or anything. Trapped by the boundaries I’d drawn to keep myself alive and sane.

After a long moment, Lyric exhaled softly and turned away from the view.

Guess we weren’t going over the edge today.

She wandered along the parapet, trailing her fingers along the rough surface. She eventually paused at a fountain tucked into an alcove between two buildings. It was nothing like the flashy monstrosities near the hotel and casino, with their music, lights, and perfectly timed water shows designed to impress drunk tourists.

This one was old. Simple. A sea nymph poured water from a chipped shell into a shallow pool, the stone stained green in places and worn smooth by time. The basin was filled with coins from all over the world.

It wasn’t trying to be beautiful. It just… was.

I liked it better than the others.

I dug a couple of coins out of my pocket and offered her one. “Make a wish?”

She shook her head. “I stopped believing in wishes a long time ago.”

“Let me guess… somewhere around the time you started carrying a weapon?”

That earned me another almost-smile. “Before. Way before.”

I tossed one of the coins in.

She leaned over to watch it disappear under the rippling surface, then sent me a sidelong glance. “Don’t tell me you believe in wishes.”

“I believe in hedging my bets.” I held out the other coin for her. “Can’t hurt, right?”

She hesitated before slowly taking it from my hand. “What did you wish for?”

“Breaks the rules if I tell you.”

“I thought you weren’t much for rules.”

“Some are worth following.”

She turned back to the fountain. The afternoon light glinted off her hair, turning it to white gold, and I wondered if that pale, silvery blonde was her natural color. It suited Elisa, but now that I knew her, I didn’t think it fit Lyric. If I had to guess, she was more fire than frost—something like strawberry blonde or copper, the kind of color that caught sunlight and burned with it.

“You know what I’d wish for?” She flipped the coin and caught it between her fingers. “One day where I don’t have to calculate every word, every gesture. One day where I could just… be.”

“What would that look like?” I asked, genuinely curious. “A day of being you.”

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