Nimue caught a packet of granola that he tossed her. “Who knew I was befriending a Boy Scout.”
“Rangers and Boy Scouts?” He shrugged. “Not exactly a huge leap.”
She sank onto a flat rock. Her body screamed for rest. Rummaging in her pack for fresh bandages, her fingers brushed something unexpected at the bottom.
Her sketchpad.
Right.She’d shoved it in there this morning. Back when her biggest worry was whether Liam would show up for their run.
A lifetime ago.
She pulled it out, pencil still tucked in the spiral binding, and flipped it open. Her throat tightened at the half-finished sketch of Alani—that sweet kid from the campfire, smile captured in sharp graphite lines.
Not finished, but recognizable.
She hesitated. Flipped to a clean page.
Liam.
She’d tried drawing him twice before. Never seemed to capture…him. Maybe her skills weren’t good enough. Or maybe she simply didn’t know how to capture all the things he’d become to her.
But right now, the way the last of the evening light highlighted his strong jaw, his steady confidence, the image formed—complete—in her mind.
Without thinking, she let the pencil move across the page. Quick, sure strokes captured his brow, his eyes, the way dark hair fell across his forehead as he worked.
He glanced up. Raised an eyebrow. “Let me see.”
Heat crept up her neck. She flipped back to her sketch of Alani, turned the pad toward him.
His jaw went slack.
“That’s…amazing.”
She shrugged and located a rock-squirrel sketch. “Just a hobby.”
“A hobby is collecting stamps.” Those blue eyes locked on hers. “That’s a gift. You’re a talented artist.”
“I’m a talented hacker who does art on the side.”
The words tumbled out before she could stop them. Her stomach dropped.Stupid. Stupid. Why had she said that?
Of course Liam didn’t miss it. “Are these people after you because of something you hacked?”
She nodded. Couldn’t take it back now.
He adjusted the stove flame. “I don’t know much about hacking, but I know it requires seeing code—not just as a whole, but breaking it down line by line. Right?”
“What are you getting at, Ranger?”
“You see things others miss. Break them down in ways other people can’t.” His voice carried quiet conviction. “It makes you a good hacker, but it makes you agreatartist.”
Oh.But she frowned.
“You see the same world I do, but you can break it down stroke by stroke. Line by line.” His gaze held hers. “That’s what you were made to do.”
Something in her chest shifted. Ached.
Maybe her hackingwasart. Maybe she was made for more than just staying one step ahead of enemies, more than using her skills as armor against a world that kept trying to break her.
