Page 19 of Peak’s Code

Wren was alive. The words echoed through Maeve's head, refusing to settle. She'd imagined hearing those words a thousand different ways over the last eighteen months. A detective calling to give her bad news, or a ransom demand. Even a frightened phone call in the middle of the night from her sister, begging her to find her. But never did she imagine that she’d get a phone call from the man responsible for taking her.

Her knees gave out before she realized she'd stopped breathing. Strong hands caught her before she hit the dirt floor—Peak. His grip was steady, warm despite the chill that hung in the tunnel. "You with me?" he asked quietly.

She stared past him, her vision blurred. "I heard him."

"I know,” he breathed.

"He said—” She couldn’t quite say the words out loud for fear that they weren’t true.

"I know what he said."

Her chest tightened until it hurt to breathe. "I've been chasing ghosts."

Peak knelt in front of her, keeping one hand on her shoulder. "No." She finally looked at him. "He confirmed she survived."

The tears she'd refused to shed for over a year burned behind her eyes. "I thought—” Her voice cracked. "God, I thought maybe she'd suffered for a little while before—" She couldn't finish. Peak didn't interrupt. He didn't offer empty reassurances or tell her everything would be okay. He simply stayed there, and for some reason, that helped more than words ever could.

After several minutes, she wiped her face with the heel of her hand. "I don't cry."

Peak's eyebrow lifted. "You literally just did."

"I meant usually,” she insisted. She let out a shaky laugh. He stood and offered her a hand, and she took it. The moment their fingers touched, something buzzed in the back of her mind. Peak wasn't treating her like she was broken. He wasn't walking on eggshells around her. He was treating her like an equal who'd been knocked down and needed a hand getting back up. There was a difference—a big one.

"The call wasn't about scaring us," Peak said. She studied him, trying to figure out what he meant. "They wanted you to hear Wren was alive."

Her eyes widened when she realized what he was getting at. Maeve's stomach twisted. "They're manipulating me."

"They're trying to,” he countered.

"They've always tried to scare me.”

Peak started walking again, keeping the flashlight low. "They know you'll make mistakes if you're emotional."

She followed beside him. "I’ve already made so many mistakes."

"What mistakes have you made?" he asked.

"I came here, for one," she said, starting with her biggest mistake so far.

Peak looked over at her. "You think that was a mistake?"

"I brought death to your doorstep,” she reminded.

"You brought us information,” he insisted.

"I brought a war to your doorstep,” she countered.

He shook his head. "No, they declared war on the Grave Prowlers. There's a difference." She wasn't convinced of that, but she appreciated him saying it.

The tunnel widened as they continued down the dirt path. Old wooden support beams held up the earth overhead, and water trickled through cracks in the brick. The air smelled of salt and damp moss. Maeve traced one hand along the rough wall as they walked.

"My grandfather would've loved this,” she said.

Peak glanced at her. "Your grandfather liked old tunnels?"

"He restored old buildings. He used to drag Wren and me through abandoned churches." A faint smile touched her lips. "He'd spend hours talking about craftsmanship. Meanwhile, Wren and I were trying not to die from boredom."

Peak chuckled. "I take it you weren't history buffs."