Page 66 of Peak’s Code

“I’m not joking,” Peak said. He closed the remaining distance between them. “You don’t get to decide I’d be better off without you.”

Maeve’s throat tightened. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection from caring about you.” The words broke through every wall she had spent eighteen months building. Peak reached for her hand, and she let him take it. “I’m not trading you,” he said.

“Then what do we do?” she asked.

“We find Captain,” Peak said.

“And Wren?” she asked.

“We find her too.”

“You make it sound simple.”

“No.” His thumb moved across her knuckles. “I’m making it sound inevitable.” A loud bang came from outside. All three of them drew their weapons. Headlights suddenly swept across the curtains. A vehicle raced into the motel parking lot and stopped hard enough for tires to squeal on the wet pavement. Warden killed the flashlight, and darkness swallowed the room. Maeve moved beside the bathroom wall again, and Peak took position near the door. The vehicle’s engine remained running as a door opened, then another. Footsteps splashed through puddles, and she could tell that it was more than one person.

The curtains shifted slightly in the draft from the old window frame as a shadow moved past. Someone stopped directly outside Room Seven. No knock came. Instead, a red dot appeared on Peak’s bare chest. It was a laser sight. Maeve didn’t think. She launched herself at him. The gunshot shattered the motel window as they hit the floor together, and glass rained across the bed.

Warden opened fire through the wall. Outside, men shouted, and an engine roared to life. Peak rolled Maeve beneath him, covering her as more rounds tore through the room. The mattress jerked with each impact, and plaster exploded from the wall. Then, as quickly as it began, the shooting stopped. Tires screamed across the parking lot, and the vehicle disappeared into the storm.

For several seconds, none of them moved. Maeve lay beneath Peak, listening to his breathing and the rain pouring through the shattered window. His body was heavy against hers. She gripped the back of his shirt. “Peak.”

“I’m okay,” he said. “Are you hit?”

“No,” she breathed, quickly assessing herself for any pain, but found nothing. “I’m fine.”

“I’m fine too, by the way.” Warden crouched near the wall, reloading. “They weren’t trying to kill us.”

Maeve looked toward the ruined window. “How can you say that?”

“They fired high and wide after the first shot,” Warden said.

Peak pushed himself up. “The first round was aimed at me.”

“It hit the wall,” Warden pointed out.

“Because Maeve moved me,” Peak insisted.

Warden glanced at her. “Then they wanted to scare us.”

“No,” Maeve whispered.

Peak looked down at her. “What?”

She stared toward the parking lot. “They wanted us to run.”

“Why?” Warden asked.

Maeve understood it now. The call from Mercer, the threat against Captain, and the promise that instructions would follow. The shooters weren’t there to kill them. They were there to push them out of the motel before Maeve and Peak could stop and think.

“They’re herding us,” she said.

Peak’s expression hardened. “Toward the trade.” Maeve nodded. Somewhere in Maryland, Captain was waiting for help, and somewhere beyond him, Wren was still alive. The Director had finally found the one thing powerful enough to control Maeve—the lives of everyone she loved.

Peak

Peak counted to ten before he moved—not because the gunfire had stopped, but because he'd learned a long time ago that the first man to stand up usually became the next target. Rain poured through the shattered motel window, soaking the faded carpet beneath the bed. Glass glittered across the floor every time lightning flashed outside. Warden crouched beside the ruined wall, shotgun trained toward the parking lot. Nobody spoke, but Peak listened for engines, footsteps, or voices; all he heard was the rain.