Page 22 of The Last Call Home
“You used your real name,” I say.“For a second, I thought maybe you were still working for them but now ...what the fuck are you doing, Cassian?”
He gives me a lazy smile, the one he always serves when he wakes up and wants to fuck.
Focus, Timberbridge, don’t let him get away.
“Are you working for Crait Quantum Shield?”I snap.It’s too loud.Too bitter.But I don’t take it back.Not anymore.Not after weeks of trying to avoid him and everything he represents.“You’re here undercover to help with the Syndicate, or just fucking with me—again?”
“Does it matter?”he mutters, rubbing his eyes like he’s trying to scrub the truth out of his retinas.
“Why would you blow your fucking cover like that?”I demand because there’s no other explanation.He’s not here for me.“You’re a fucking agent, aren’t you?
The way Cassian’s body jolts, it’s not just a surprise.It’s terror.Like he’s been caught in the middle of an interrogation, his cover has been blown.One breath.That’s all he takes before his eyes widen—wild, almost frantic—and every inch of him screams fight-or-flight.No trace of the cocky smirk he wears like a shield.Just panic because something is up.I nailed it, right?
I ...his mouth parts like he’s going to say my name, but the sound dies before it reaches the air, and suddenly I can’t breathe.I know why he’s panicking.
The scent hits me.Nutmeg, vanilla, and something dangerous.When I glance over my shoulder, I see her.Delilah.
“I knew it.I fucking knew it.”Delilah’s voice cuts through like static, smug and bristling with satisfaction.It grates, high-pitched and grinning, as if she’s been waiting to drop the match on a gas leak.“You’re not the fucking sheriff.”
Cass and I look at each other.
“Fuck,” we mutter in unison.Not a curse.A prayer.A realization that we said too much and she knows something.We can save it, we can ...we ...what can we say?
Cassian runs a hand over his face, fingers dragging across his skin as if he’s trying to wipe away the last five seconds off it.As if he can erase the expression he couldn’t hide fast enough.
ChapterEight
Delilah
“Fuck.”Cassian and Malerick look at each other like they’ve just stepped into a trap they didn’t realize was there until the jaws snapped shut.Not dread, exactly—something worse.It feels like regret laced with inevitability.Like they knew this moment was coming and prayed they’d outrun it.
I wasn’t entirely sure my theories were correct.Not until now.But that single, useless syllable slipping from both their lips at the exact same time?
Yeah, that kind of confirms it.
Now they look like two kids caught with a lighter and a gas can, pretending they were just out for a stroll in the woods.The house burning is just a casualty.
“Okay, boys,” I say, trying not to sound as rattled as I feel.My voice is mostly steady, only a little too bright, like I’m trying to distract myself with my sarcasm.“It’s time to go inside before someone else hears your little confession and the entire town goes into panic mode.”
I press my hand against Malerick’s back and push.Brick wall.Muscle stacked on attitude, and none of it’s budging—except, miraculously, he lets me move him.That’s how I know he’s thrown.If he weren’t in full-on internal meltdown mode, I’d be halfway across the street, probably face-first in a pile of hard, murky snow and muttering about my poor life choices.
Once we’re inside, he clears his throat and straightens like he remembered he’s supposed to be the one in charge.“I am the sheriff,” he says, deadpan.
Cassian locks the door while rolling his eyes.
Me?I laugh.A full, unexpected sound rips out of me like my body’s short-circuiting from too much adrenaline and nowhere to put it.It’s ridiculous.A last-ditch declaration made by someone clinging to control with slippery fingers, hoping no one notices the panic bubbling just beneath the surface.
“If that’s the best you can come up with,” I say, brushing past him, “you’ve lost all credibility.”
He opens his mouth like he wants to argue.Like he has some big, righteous speech tucked in his back pocket or maybe under his badge.But I don’t give him a chance.
“Sure, sheriff, let’s pretend that it’s all you are,” I go on with a slight shrug, “and there’s no mafia setting businesses on fire.No threats.No scare tactics.No one is trying to dismantle the town because we won’t sell them what they want.”
I flash a smile so sugary it’s almost rot-your-teeth sweet with a dash of I-dare-you-to-deny-anything.
“Yep.Everything’s totally fucking fine.”
Malerick’s jaw clenches.“Who told you?”
