Page 122 of The Puppet Master
“I don’t know how much time we have, so listen, okay? Once you reach the cluster of traps…”
Sawyer continues on while I watch his lips move with swift, urgent jerks. Number after number of nonsensical directions to a spot I could find within the hour. Without his help.
I don’t need to fake this. The traitor is Zephyr. The key is a weak current in the fence.
All information is known, but I let him go on anyway, my lungs loosening by the word. Warmth blooming in my cheeks, down my neck, across my chest.
“Are you getting this?”Sawyer asks, dragging me from my thoughts.
I clear my throat. “Yes… But what aboutyou? How will you escape?”
He doesn’t answer right away. His lips part while his eyes cloud.
He doesn’t have a plan.
“I’m like a mouse,” Sawyer says. “I’m very good at squeezing through tight spaces. I’ll find a way out.”
“Did you come back for me?” I ask, voice low—a weak question for a useless answer. Later, he’ll think me cruel for asking it… He’ll be right. “Is that why you didn’t leave after finding the money?”
He breaks from my gaze to stare at his jeans, lips parting with an apology that never slips through.
I don’t ask why. In a way, he’s already told me.
I don’t leave people in burning buildings.
“Why wouldn’t you tell me all of this before?” My knee tips against his as I turn and tuck my hands beneath my thighs. As my wrist grazes the knife, I look down to see it bulging through the ink-colored silk hugging my body. It’s a far cry from the white of a Seraph’s nightgown. All it would take is a glance of those penetrating eyes for him to see me for who I am, but I have never been more right and wrong about a person in my life.
Sawyer Hansley only sees what he’s looking for.
“You wouldn’t have waited until I was gone,” Sawyer says. “If you’d tried to run while I was still here…”
He would’ve failed his initiation, and his plan for escape would have been ruined.
Selfish… Yet self-sacrificing.
Clever… Yet blind.
I have been as wrong about this man as he’s been about me.
“I have to go,” he whispers like he’s sure there will be Keepers standing right outside the door. “I’m sorry, Luna. For everything.”
He gets up and walks to the entryway but pauses when I speak.
“I’m coming with you.”
He sighs, turns halfway. “You can’t. It isn’t?—”
“I know a way out of this place.” I step up to him, glance at the door, and lower my voice as he had. “One where Keepers won’t be waiting for us.”
His eyes widen the slightest bit, interest visibly piquing. Interest… but not quite hope.
He looks down as I take his hands.
“We leave together or not at all.” My voice is a meek whisper. I expect him to look up,say something, but he doesn’t. He runs his thumb over my knuckles and wiggles the ring donning my third finger.
“I found it in your pants’ pocket.” My voice falters, as nervous as if I told a lie.
He looks up at me and lets go of my hands. I hold my breath as my face tingles with bloodloss.
