Page 132 of The Vagabond

I go quiet. Scar does too. Then his voice drops lower. He doesn’t sound like a mob boss now. He sounds like a man who’s watched the city chew up people he cared about and spit them out in body bags.

“You’ve made more enemies in the last forty-eight hours than you can count on two hands, North. Maxine’s safe—for now. But if you think this ends with you both disappearing into the woods and playing house, you’re wrong. The Gibbons fallout is massive. The Aviary’s bleeding. The Bureau’s twitchy. And the only reason I haven’t handed you over is because you’re more use to me on this side than on theirs.”

“I’ll deal with it,” I say.

He sighs. “I know you will.”

The line goes dead. I stand there for a long moment, staring into the trees, the early light cutting through the branches like teeth. Enemies on every side. No badge to protect me. And a woman inside who thinks she’s safer with me than without. She’s wrong. But I’ll keep lying to her until I can make it true. Because I’d rather die a hunted man with Maxine in my arms than live another second in a world without her.

Let the Bureau come. Let Brando dig my grave. I’m not running. Because I already chose my side. And it’s her. It’ll always be her.

54

SAXON

Iwake before the sun comes up.

The cabin is quiet — the kind of quiet that makes your skin itch when you’ve lived long enough on the wrong side of survival.

For a moment, I lie there, eyes closed, holding her against me. I could pretend I don’t know what today is. Pretend I won’t have to let go. Pretend I’m not already bleeding inside from the choice I’ve made. But pretending doesn’t change a goddamn thing.

I press a kiss to her hair, breathing her in like it’s the last time — because it is, at least for now. Then I slip out of bed, out from under the warmth of her body, and step into the cold.

The sun’s not up yet, but the sky’s already hinting at dawn, bruised and gray at the edges. I stand at the edge of the porch, hands curled into fists, jaw clenched tight. I know what I have to do. Maxine’s going to hate me for it, but there is no other choice.

She knows I’ll burn my life down for her, walk with her into the fire, no matter the cost. I fucking would. But that’s the problem. Because the Bureau has already painted a target on my back.

My clearance is gone. My name is being whispered in halls I used to command. I’m not just an agent anymore — I’m a liability, a fugitive in the making.

And Maxine? She deserves more than a man who’s about to drown in his own wreckage.

So today, I’m breaking her heart. I’m taking her back. Because I have to clear my name, rebuild my life, and come back to her clean. Come back whole. She deserves that, at the very least.

When I step back inside, she’s stirring — sitting up, blinking blearily, pulling my sweater tight around herself like it can hold her together.

God, she looks small in this light. Small and breakable and perfect.

“Where were you?” she asks softly.

I cross the room, crouch in front of her, brush her hair from her face. Her eyes search mine, wide, anxious. I cup her cheek, thumb sweeping under her eye.

“We’re going home,” I say.

She flinches slightly, confusion flickering across her face.

“What?”

I swallow hard, jaw tight.

“I need to take you back, Max.”

Her breath stutters.

“No. Saxon, I?—”

“I have to.”

I press my forehead to hers, eyes squeezed shut, hands trembling as I hold her face.

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