Page 19 of Devlin

“Of course,” she murmured, voice flat. “Convenient how life works, isn’t it? That after ten years, after—” She exhaled hard, like she refused to give breath to the words choking her.

Devlin swallowed. “I’d like to talk more,” he said gently, his voice softening as he held her gaze. Her eyes—so familiar yet distant—searched his, and he felt as though he were drowning in their depths. “Mia?—”

She held up a hand, stopping him cold. “You want to talk?” she asked, her tone deceptively mild. “Now you want to talk? Because the last time you had the chance, you said nothing. Not a word.” She scoffed. “Not that anything you could have said would have made a difference.”

The accusation landed like a punch, and he flinched despite himself. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

Her laughter was bitter, humorless. “Wow. That makes it so much better. You didn’t want to, but you did it anyway. Well, that makes one of us because I sure as hell didn’t want to be gutted and abandoned without so much as an explanation.”

Devlin’s chest tightened. “I?—”

“No.” The single syllable cracked through the air like a whip. “You don’t get to stand here and act like this accidental reunion is a chance for two old friends to catch up.” Her eyes burned with something deeper than anger. “You were my whole world, Jim.”She spat the name like it tasted bad. “And then you obliterated it.”

Devlin exhaled slowly, trying to keep his voice steady. “I know I hurt you?—”

“Hurt me?” She scoffed. “You destroyed me. And you think one awkward conversation outside a warehouse will fix that?”

He had no answer for that.

Mia’s shoulders slumped, her expression weary as she closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest. The weight she carried seemed almost tangible, and he would have given anything to lift it from her. She shook her head, crossing her arms tightly as if physically holding herself together.

When she finally raised her head, her voice was firm but low. “We can’t talk here. Even if we seem alone, someone could always be nearby. I’m not about to air my business in front of people I work with.”

Her words cut deep, but he knew he deserved the dagger she’d just driven into his chest. Pressing his luck, he asked softly, “Then where? What about your room?”

Her eyes flashed with disbelief before narrowing into dangerous slits. “For all you know, I share a room with twenty other women.”

He didn’t flinch. “You don’t.”

Her sharp inhale told him he’d made a mistake.

“You already knew that, didn’t you?” Her voice dropped to something cold and lethal. “Who did you ask?”

He hesitated a second too long. “I asked someone in the dining hall.”

Her brows shot up. “You what?”

He raised his hands, palms out, in surrender. “No, no. It’s not what you think. I told her I was with security and hadn’t seen you in a while. She said you might be here or in your room. She also explained the shipping container apartments. She saidshe shared one with you, and I recognized the setup from my military days.”

Mia’s glare lingered before she finally tilted her head as though weighing his words. “We can talk… sometime. But not now. And definitely not in my room.”

He should have let it go. Should have known when to quit. But dammit, he’d already lost her once. He wasn’t about to let her slip away again. “It would be private,” he pushed, his tone edged with something dangerously close to desperation.

Her hands landed on her hips as her lips curled in a humorless smirk. “Yeah, well, I don’t invite strange men to my room.”

Devlin took a step closer, his voice softening with emotion. “Oh, Mia… you know me.”

“Do I?” she shot back, her voice cold. “Jim? Devlin? Whoever you are now?” She scoffed, her tone turning biting. “Farid thought Margarethe called you Devil.”

Devlin chuckled ruefully. “You remember… that was my call sign.”

Pain flashed in her eyes, swift and cutting. “At one time, many years ago, I thought I did know you.” Her voice dropped to something almost fragile. Then just as quickly, it hardened again. “But I didn’t. And nothing in the last decade has changed that.”

She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving him standing in the deepening shadows of the warehouse.

He followed at a distance, watching as she lowered the door and locked it securely. Then she slipped back into the world with no place for him anymore. A world she had carved out when he let her walk away. Her steady voice was professional as she called out to another worker. “No more deliveries tonight. See you in the morning.”

As they rounded the corner, her demeanor shifted, and she tossed a wave and a smile to a group of staff and refugees passing by. It looked like a mask, one she wore with practiced ease.

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