“Have you told—”
“Some things don’t need to be said to be known.” His voice stayed steady, calm. “It won’t change anything. I used to think that if we took back the city in time, perhaps . . . but life doesn’t always honor plans . . .” His attention drifted to the windows, where dawn was starting to sweep across the city. “A man is not a cause, and a cause is not a man. Control is already being shifted to the Council. With any luck, I’ll make—”
He stopped as footsteps sounded in the hall. A moment later Emily Flynn strode into the kitchen dressed in full fatigues. She was as tall as her husband, with short black hair and smooth dark skin, and if she thought it odd that Kate Harker was having breakfast at their kitchen counter, she didn’t say so.
“Something smells wonderful.”
“Emily,” said Henry, a new sweetness infusing his voice.
“I’ve got three hours before my next shift. Are those eggs for me?”
Flynn held out his fork and Emily swept it from his fingers. He wrapped an arm loosely around her as she ate, and Kate’s chest tightened. There was such a simple ease to the gesture, a comfort to the way they moved in and out of each other’s space. Even when her parents had been together, it had never been like this.
“Don’t let me interrupt,” said Emily.
“You’re not,” said Flynn, kissing her shoulder. “Katherine and I—”
“Kate,” she corrected curtly.
“Kate and I were just finishing up.”
Emily gave a brisk nod, her gaze leveled straight at Kate, clearly the kind of woman used to making eye contact. She was glad she’d opted for the bangs.
“August has work to do, so you’ll be confined to the apartment.”
Kate’s muscles twitched. “Is that necessary?”
“Not at all,” she said cheerfully. “If you’d prefer a cell downstairs—”
“Em,” said Flynn. “Kate is proving a very cooperative guest . . .”
“Ilsa can monitor remotely and I’ve already arranged for a soldier to be on comms in case.”
But Kate wasn’t listening. She couldn’t stay here, couldn’t lose another day, not with the Chaos Eater out there, stealing more of her mind with every cycle of the sun.
“I want to train with the FTF.”
The lie came out so easily without August there to stop it. She had no intention of becoming Flynn’s latest foot soldier, but she needed her weapons back, needed a way out of the Compound.
Emily shook her head. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Why not?” challenged Kate.
The woman gave her a long, hard look. “Miss Harker, the FTF don’t harbor kind feelings toward your family. Word is already spreading that you’re here inside the Compound. Some will see your presence as an insult. Others might take it as a challenge. It would be better if you stayed—”
“I can hold my own.”
“That’s not actually what I’m worried about. We try to avoid discord—”
“You mean violence—”
“I mean discord,” said Emily, “in all its forms.”
“With all due respect,” said Kate, “keeping me out of reach will only make it worse. You want to prevent discord? Treat me like I belong, not like I don’t.”
Emily looked to her husband. “She’s persuasive, isn’t she?”
“Is that a yes?” pressed Kate, trying to keep the urgency out of her voice.
Emily took the coffee cup from Flynn’s hand and considered the contents. “You will be placed under the watch of another cadet. If you disobey orders, or cause any trouble, or if I simply change my mind, you will be returned to your confinement.”
Kate’s spirits wavered at the mention of another cadet, but it was a minor hurdle compared to being kept at the top of a tower. “Sounds like a plan,” she said, carrying her plate to the sink.
August came charging into the kitchen, holding the doorknob she’d removed. His black hair was still wet, and his shirt was open, revealing a lean body newly corded with muscle.
“Was this necessary?”
“Sorry.” She shrugged. “I’ve never been a fan of locks.”
August actually scowled—or what passed for scowling with him, a deep crease between his eyebrows.
She turned her attention back to Emily. “I’ll need a uniform.”
August straightened in surprise. “Why?”
Kate cracked a smile, but she let Flynn say the words: “Miss Harker has offered to join the Force.”
“This is a bad idea,” called August.
He was down on one knee, trying to reattach the doorknob to his bedroom door while Kate finished dressing on the other side.
“So you’ve said,” she called back. “Three times.”
“It bears repeating.”
She rapped her knuckles on the wood—the signal that he could enter. August straightened and nudged the door open. Kate stood there, dressed in FTF gear, her eyes shielded by that pale sweep of hair, the rest of it pulled back into a ponytail, revealing the scar that traced the left line of her face, temple to jaw.
She gestured down at the fatigues. “How do I look?”
The uniform suited her more than it had ever suited him. But it wasn’t just the clothes, it was the way she wore them. Commanding. Kate Harker had always had a kind of presence, and seeing her like this, it made him think of that game she played, imagining a different version of her life, herself. For a second he glimpsed the version where she’d stayed.
“August?” she prompted.
He couldn’t lie. He didn’t need to. “You look like you belong.”
Kate flicked him a smile and sank onto his bed to lace up her boots.
“But why would you even want to join the FTF?”
“Oh, I don’t,” said Kate briskly, “but if I stay in this apartment, I’m going to lose my mind, and that wouldn’t be much good to anyone now, would it?”
“This is a—”
“So help me God if you say bad idea.”
“You’re Callum Harker’s daughter.”
She gasped. “Really?”
“Half the FTF would probably like to see you hanged.”
She looked up. “Only half?”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. He wasn’t worried about Henry or Em, but Ilsa might be in her room. “What about your . . . bond with the Chaos Eater?”
Kate’s attention snapped toward the door, even as her tone went flat. “What about it?”
“Does Henry know?”
“I didn’t tell him,” she said coolly. “Did you?”
He’d thought about it. August had never been good at keeping secrets. But if Henry found out—if Soro found out—there would be no protecting her.
Should he be protecting her?
Yes, she was a criminal, but this—this hadn’t been a crime; she hadn’t brought it on herself. She was the victim, one who’d managed to get away, if not entirely. She was their best connection—their only connection—to the monster, if it was really in their midst.
He wouldn’t—couldn’t—lie for her.
But he wouldn’t expose her either.
“Not yet.”
He swept the violin onto his shoulder and led Kate to the elevator.
“You’re not going to shadow me all day, are you?” she asked. “I’m already persona non grata, and I doubt I’ll earn any points by traveling with a bodyguard, especially a Sunai.”