Page 139 of Dark Night of the Soul

“You forgot your pants,” she called.

I kept walking as I answered. “What do you have?”

“Safe house in Haidhausen,” Silas said. “Twenty minutes on foot from the Werksviertel-Mitte facility.”

I slowed half a step. “That close?”

“Close enough to move fast,” he replied. “Far enough not to be seen, if you don’t make it personal.”

“When do we move?”

“Private charter will be ready for you at midnight. Take what you need. Leave the rest.”

“Quiet Watch?”

“I’ll have men ready,” Silas said. “On standby and embedded. You won’t be going in alone.”

“Good.” I glanced over my shoulder, but she had disappeared into the bathroom—already retreating, already giving me the space she knew I’d take, anyway. “I need a favor.”

“For the lass?”

A pause. “Yes.”

“Name it.”

“Her mother,” I said. “I want them to meet. Somewhere open. Somewhere safe. Near the safe house.”

She’d need that. After we burned the Knights’ headquarters to the ground. After we destroyed every piece of surveillance data they’d collected. She’d need to see her mother—to ask the questions she couldn’t ask before, to tell her I understand now. To have that conversation without walls listening, without surveillance stealing another private moment between them. I couldn’t give her back what they’d taken, but I could give her this—a chance to speak to her mother freely, safely, without the Knights watching.

There was a long pause. Then, “When?”

“After,” was all I said. “Ophelia is your contact.”

“I’ll make it happen,” he said. “One more thing. All the intel and weapons you’ll need will be in the safe house.”

“I owe you.”

“No,” he said. “Finish it.” Then hung up.

The bathroom door opened and steam rolled out. She stepped through it, wrapped in a towel, damp hair clinging to her shoulders. She halted outside the doorway, taking in the sight of me still holding the phone.

Still without pants.

“Silas?”

“Yes.”

She waited, searching my face for something. Looking for the weight of bad news. Or confirmation of what she already suspected.

“We move to Munich tonight,” I said.

Her hand stilled on the towel. For a long moment, she looked at me and I watched something dark and sharp move through her eyes. Not fear. Something colder. Harder.

“The headquarters?” she asked.

“Yes.”

A slow exhale. Then that cold thing in her eyes turned molten. “Good,” she said, her voice steady. Certain. “It’s time.”