Page 35 of Raven

“Feels like it,” Cyclone said, helping Mary’s mother out of the back seat. He laughed and wished all of them good luck.

We passed through using the forged IDs, one at a time. My heartbeat didn’t slow until the final stamp dropped.

We were out.

As the sun rose behind us, Sam sat in the back, holding his wife and kids close.

I caught his eye in the rearview mirror.

“You’re free now,” I said. “Let’s get you home.”

17

Beatrice

I arrivedat the station early, hoping to review the notes on the bombing before Katherine showed up. For some reason, she’d been working at our firehouse all week. The evidence we collected at the warehouse still nagged at me. That wire. That bomb fragment. Someone knew exactly what they were doing—too much precision and planning.

I wish Raven could have stayed longer instead of going on another mission. I can handle this. I can’t count on someone to take care of everything for me.

I was pouring a second cup of coffee when the door opened, and Katherine walked in. Her expression was unreadable, and her eyes briefly swept over me.

“You’re early,” she said, her voice clipped.

“Yeah. I thought I’d review what we found yesterday. I still think we missed something.”

Katherine set her bag down a little too hard. “We combed that site twice, Beatrice. There’s nothing else to find.”

I turned toward her. “I just have this feeling—like something was off.”

She gave me a tight smile. “You always have a feeling, don’t you?”

I froze for a beat, unsure how to take the comment. “It’s just instinct. I’ve always trusted it.”

“I know.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Everyone trusts your instincts.”

There it was again—that edge, barely hidden beneath polite professionalism. I brushed it off. “I was thinking we could revisit the supplier records today. Maybe see who else had access to that metal.”

Katherine raised an eyebrow. “And by we, you mean me doing the paperwork while you chase your hunches?”

I blinked. “That’s not fair. I’ve been right more than once.”

“Oh, I know,” she said quietly. “You’re everyone’s favorite.”

The silence stretched.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said cautiously. “Katherine, if there’s something wrong—”

“There’s nothing wrong.” Her tone was final. Cold. Then, just as quickly, she shifted, pulling on a practiced smile. “Sorry. Long night. Let’s get to work.”

I nodded, but the chill in the room remained.

* * *

KATHERINE

She always walked in like she belonged—like she had something no one else did. With her bright eyes and soft voice, Beatrice always “trusted her gut,” and somehow, it paid off. Everyone praised her for it.

She didn’t see how people leaned in when she spoke. She didn’t see how the men—hell, even the damn captain—watched her like she was something special.

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