Page 48 of What We Become

“You didn’t need to. It’s in your posture.” Odin meets his eyes. “Leaving isn’t retreating. It’s repositioning. Stephen succeeded because he could afford to be patient. Take yourselves out of every location he knows and he’ll have to search. Movement creates mistakes.”

Knox says nothing.

“Comforting,” I say.

“It shouldn’t be.” Odin glances toward the glass doors, toward the idling SUV, the mountains sharp against the sky. “You’re vulnerable during transitions. Discharge is predictable. Predictability gets people killed.”

I stare at him. “Jesus. You really know how to sell a vacation.”

“I’m not offering comfort, Miss Adams. I’m offering time.”

Holden lets out a slow exhale. “He’s right.” He turns to the group, and I watch the cop slide into the space where the boyfriend was standing five seconds ago. “Stephen’s had access to our lives for weeks. The house, the diner—everywhere we go, he’s already been.”

“So we stop going there,” Micah says quietly.

“So we stop going there.” Holden’s eyes move to Odin. “I want the house swept. Trackers, cameras, listening devices. If he’s been inside⁠—”

“My team’s already on it,” Odin says.

I look down at my hands. Bandaged wrists. An IV bruise blooming purple across one knuckle. It wasn’t that long ago that we sat around the dining table and agreed on a future. Fuck pit 2.0. Milo measuring walls for a TV the size of a garage door. We were building something.

And a man who photographs unconscious women gets to take it by existing.

“Hey.” Milo crouches beside the wheelchair, light-brown eyes seeing straight through my mask. “The house isn’t going anywhere, kitten. It’s only a building. The polycule is portable.”

“The polycule is portable,” I repeat. “That’s going on a mug.”

“Merch ideas. See? Exile is already good for us.”

I reach up and back until my fingers find Knox’s hand on the grip. I pry one finger loose and wrap my hand around it, and after a second his fingers turn over and swallow mine.

“Knoxie.”

“I don’t like it,” he says. Simple. True.

“I know.”

“But I’m coming.”

“Never doubted it.”

Eli pockets the coordinates. “What about our clothes? We’ll need⁠—”

“Already handled. The SUV is stocked. Changes of clothes, toiletries, food for the drive. My people will deliver anything else you need tomorrow. You get in the vehicle and you go.”

“Our cars—” Holden starts.

“Stay in the facility lot. The SUV is registered to a shell and has no connection to any of you.”

Holden’s jaw works, and I can see how much he hates this, the loss of control—his car, his house, his operational independence, all of it being managed by someone else. But he’s also the man who checks the logic before he checks the ego, and the logic is sound.

“Fine,” he says.

“Great,” Milo adds. “Love being kidnapped by a benevolent Norse god before noon. Do you think we’re off to Valhalla, Folkvangr, or Hel? Wait.” He narrows his eyes on Odin. “Unless you plan to drown us? If so, let me know because I’m not keen to spend eternity in Ran’s Hall.”

“You know he’s not literally a god, right?” Micah whispers.

Milo stares at him for a moment, then nods slowly. “Yes?”