But they didn’t practice such deceit, he reminded himself. They would simply tear him apart if they willed it. His feet were moving through the corridor, and he had to check himself repeatedly to keep an even pace. He could not run to her, no matter what the cost.
Callan wasn’t one to lose his cool, but this was bringing him perilously close. Three unarmed guards stood by the foyer, their powers beyond what simple weapons could provide, and Callan walked past with his head high, not taking notice of them as per usual. He could not get to his own car in time to stop her, so he marched straight to the waiting sedans at the main entrance and ordered the driver to take him to the Eastridge property, imparting the request with impulse that said now. He slid free of his coat jacket, lying it across the car’s stitched leather seat. When they neared the gate, Callan gave the driver a harder push, one that said he was to keep going, to take the sedan all the way to Eastridge before he turned around and came back. It said Callan, not simply his coat, had ridden silently in the backseat, changing his mind about the destination just outside of the endpoint’s gates. It said to forget the sight of the solitary woman roadside, or the fact that his passenger was about to exit the vehicle.
When Callan slipped from the car, it sped away, the stop only a brief blip on the monitors inside the complex. But he and Brianna remained. Moving toward her, he warned in a low voice, “Turn around. Keep walking. Don’t run, but whatever you do, don’t stop. Don’t look up.”
Brianna hesitated and he wanted to grab her, shake her, hiss, What are you doing? But he resisted. He resisted because he needed her to move, he needed to be out of the line of sight from the cameras. The street was empty, deceptively calm, and he said, “Brianna.”
She nodded, keeping her head down, and turned to walk beside him. He’d never stopped moving, his brisk pace taking him to her and then bringing her with him to the relative cover of the trees without slowing. They would have to keep walking. No place here was safe for her. Callan scanned the tree line, looking for a spot to cross, for some semblance of security, and Brianna asked, “What is this place?”
His step almost faltered, but they couldn’t stop. Not here. He did look at her then, though, to see the sincerity he thought he’d felt in her voice. She was here—how could she not know? Had she seen it in a vision? Was his grip on her slipping? He didn’t ask, simply answering, “You shouldn’t have come.”
There was no question his tone was a warning, that she’d put them in danger, and he could feel her understanding. She nodded again, said, “There are some things I need to know, Callan.”
His heart rate picked up. He refused to acknowledge it, grabbing her elbow to lead her further into the cover of the trees. She let him, but when they stopped a few yards into the canopy, she withdrew from his touch.
“How did you get here?” he demanded, searching the roadside for sign of a vehicle.
“I brought myself,” she said with a shrug of her shoulder. “You know they wouldn’t have let me come alone if I’d told them my plans.”
She was lying and he knew it; she would have never made it this far without the Archer boy’s sway. But he didn’t argue with her—he was using every bit of his power as it was, pushing the shadows to not see her.
“You shouldn’t have come,” he repeated.
“Why?” she said. “What is this place?”
His jaw clenched. “Brianna, you have put us both in grave danger.”
She crossed her arms. “I get that a lot.”
He glared down at her. “This isn’t a joke.” But she only stared back, unmoved. She looked so different than when he’d first touched her in the warehouse where Morgan had held her captive. Her wide, green eyes glowed brighter, but the skin around them was wan, faint cuts and bruises marring her neck just above the collar of her blouse. She was tired of this, he could feel it. She wouldn’t leave until she had answers.
He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, suppressing the building pain. He couldn’t do this now, not with the others so close. He would need all of his power to take her, and the instant he let go of the shadows, they would both be doomed.
“Fine,” he said, glancing toward an opening in the trees that revealed the street and daylight. There was a vague presence beyond, but he couldn’t afford to focus on it. Not when the true danger was so much closer. “This is an outpost, set up especially to be near the Council and Division properties. To watch you.”
He saw the reaction on her face before he felt it, but couldn’t quite grasp the impression. The buildings had been constructed to resemble a private security firm, nameless and discreet by design. Anyone who might approach the property would be swiftly turned away, if not by guard, then by Callan himself. With a mere push.