Page 44 of Shattered Salvation
"I'm stepping out back," I tell him.
His eyes lift once. "I'll be close."
I want to say I don't need a guard to breathe behind a bakery. The words get as far as my tongue and die there because pride is exhausting and I've used up most of mine pretending the bell doesn't still scare me. I take the mug with me and push through the kitchen door into the alley.
The air outside is cold enough to clear my head. The pavement's still damp from last night's rain, and the narrow strip between the buildings holds the smell of wet brick, trash bins, and old flour dust from the vent. I stay near the back door at first, one hand on the handle, tea warming my other palm. The alley's empty except for stacked crates, a broken milk crate near the wall, and a puddle that catches the gray light without making anything brighter.
My phone buzzes in my apron pocket.
Kade.
You still at the bakery?
I breathe out before I answer because he can somehow read panic through punctuation.
Yes. Priya is being unbearable in a loving way.
His reply comes fast.
Good. Be unbearable back.
I smile despite myself and type,I'm saving my strength, when the alley changes.
It's not a sound at first. It's the absence of one. The city beyond the side street keeps moving, but the mouth of the alley seems to hold still around a shape that wasn't there a second ago. Hood up. Hands in pockets. Dark jacket. Not hidden, not approaching,just standing at the far end where the weak light from the street reaches only partway under the brick overhang.
My thumb freezes above the screen.
The tea mug slips lower in my hand, and heat licks over my fingers. I barely feel it. My whole body's gone cold in that old, immediate way, skin pulling tight, lungs forgetting the easy part. The tote flashes through my head.Flour on wet pavement. A hand over my mouth. My name in a stranger's voice.
He takes one step into the alley.
I step back until my shoulder hits the door.
The movement makes his head turn. Not much. Just enough. The hood shifts, and for one clean second the gray light catches his face.
I see him.
Not a shadow. Not a shape. His face.
My fear blossoms though as I take in all of his features, trying to memorize everything I can. I have enough time to know this matters before he steps back, turning out of the light and toward the side street.
My hand moves before the rest of me does. I lift the phone and hit the camera button, thumb slipping once because my fingers are wet with tea. The first picture catches brick. The second catches his shoulder. The third catches him mid-turn, hood shadowing part of his face but not enough to erase it. I keep tapping even as my breath turns ragged, even as the door behind me opens.
Aaron comes through the door, looking past me first, toward the mouth of the alley, then at the phone shaking in my hand.
"He was there," I say, and my voice sounds smaller than I want it to. "I saw his face."
Aaron holds out his hand without taking the phone from me. "Show me."
I turn the screen toward him. He swipes once, then goes still.
That's when I know, because Aaron's face changes around what the photo means.
"Inside," he says. "Now."
Priya's waiting in the kitchen when we come back through. She takes one look at me, then at Aaron, and whatever she was about to say turns into something quieter and sharper. "Go."
"I didn't finish the rolls," I say, because my brain has picked a very stupid thing to hold onto.
