Page 165 of These Tears

A shift. A shuffling of fabric. He’s moving.

I dart to the left and duck into the nearest opening – a dim, doorless alcove. The air smells like boxes, cleaning supplies, and old insulation. It’s barely wide enough to stand in. My shoulder scrapes the wall as I press in, willing myself invisible.

Outside, his voice carries.

‘Try to get hold of Skeever again,’ Elias rumbles. ‘He was released last month and owes me a favour. I don’t have the number, just the address I gave you.’

There’s a pause. The other, tinny voice responds, too distant.

Elias answers again, louder, ‘The legal way doesn’t work!’ His fist hits the wall. The boards jump. There’s a long pause – long enough for me to imagine him flexing the hand he just drove into timber. A harsh exhale follows. Then silence, as if he’s forcing whatever snapped inside him back behind his teeth.

Then quieter, strained: ‘I’m sorry. I’m trying to do better.’

Another pause. His voice dips lower. ‘While you’re taking the legal route, have Skeever do it his way. He’s good with computers. Whichever gets results faster—’

A sharp inhale, teeth audibly clenching.

‘All good. Yes. It’s… fine. I’ll call you next week. Same time.’

A plastic clack follows – slightly too violent.

Then silence.

Bootsteps. Heavy. Slow. Closer.

I press myself tighter against the wall, melting into the dark. My breath barely moves through my throat as I count each step. Once he’s gone, I’ll have very little time to make a call before he realises what I’m doing.

He takes four steps.

Five.

Then nothing. No creak. No shift. The door doesn’t open.

Did he stop?

My heart screams inside my chest. Maybe he left? His legs are long – it would only take him five steps at most to reach the—

Elias’ forearm bars across my collarbone, pinning me to the wall without quite crushing the air out of me. His other hand clamps over my mouth, smothering the gasp before it becomes sound.

His earthy fragrance settles into my lungs. My body locks as he bends over me, his breath warm against my face.

I don’t need the light to know what he must look like now. That look. The one that says he knows exactly what I heard.

His voice comes low and gravelled; the fury banked beneath it.

‘Eavesdropping,’ he grates, ‘is a pet peeve of mine.’

He pulls his hand slowly away from my face, as if letting go takes effort. ‘I was rather hoping you’d make a run for it when I left you.’

That unholy blend of arousal and fear slinks around the base of my spine.

‘Busy breaking the law again?’ I manage, the words tumbling out before I can catch them. Instant regret clots behind my sternum.

My eyes are adjusting to the dark. The shadows are thick, but I can make out the tense lines on his face, humming with a fury that doesn’t require volume. His glare is fixed on me.

‘I wouldn’t have to be breaking it if it weren’t for you!’ he snaps.

‘No one asked you to bring me here!’