Page 86 of My Unhinged Alphas
Streetlights wash over the windshield in pale bands. Outside, the city is thinning out into quieter roads, older buildings, shuttered storefronts, the occasional tea stall still lit up like a lonely ember in the dark. A scooter rattles past us. Somewhere farther off, a dog barks. The whole night feels bruised.
I should answer. I know I should. Instead I let the silence sit there for a beat, one hand on the wheel, the other loose against my thigh.
“That’s a dramatic way of putting it,” I say at last.
“But not wrong.”
I smile faintly. “You do love pushing.”
“You do love dodging.”
Fair.
She turns a little in her seat and looks out at the road ahead. “Take the next left.”
I do.
We pass a row of low apartment blocks, paint fading off the walls, balconies cluttered with drying clothes, plants in chipped plastic pots, old satellite dishes angled at the sky. One building has a neon pharmacy sign still glowing green. Another has a watchman asleep on a chair by the gate, head tipped back, mouth open.
She clears her throat. “Then straight. I’m in the building after the small temple.”
I glance at her. “You’re giving me your address very easily.”
“I live with two other people,” she says at once, too fast, too casual. “Just in case you get any ideas.”
That gets a laugh out of me.
Not a nice one.
I turn my head just enough for her to see my face. “I can turn this car around and take you back.”
She goes quiet.
Good.
“What happens to people who know too much?” she asks after a few beats.
That wipes the humor right out of me.
I take a second before answering. “Depends who they know it from.”
“And me?”
I turn to look at her fully.
She holds my gaze, trying very hard not to look nervous. She almost manages it.
“That,” I say, “is still being decided.”
She swallows hard and looks away first.
Good.
I need her to understand this isn’t a game, even if I make it sound like one.
A few beats pass before she speaks again. “You could just let me go.”
I smile at the road. “I could.”
