Page 37 of Cold Mercy

“I know,” I say, keeping my tone colder than I feel. “The situation required it, nothing more.”

Her jaw tightens. She drains the rest of her glass, gripping it a little too tightly.

Maybe I’m imagining the disappointment. Or maybe I’m projecting because I want her to be disappointed.

“Okay, you won. Here's something about me. I have a younger brother, and I'm better in a fight than I am at a conversation,” I say.

She stares at me in disbelief before breaking into a loud laugh.

“That’s it?” she asks. “That’s the real you?”

“For tonight,” I say. “Don’t get greedy, princess”

She hums, amused, and leans back slightly, crossing one leg over the other.

“You know, Reed… that’s either very boring or very calculated.”

She tops off my drink, then hers.

What was I supposed to say? Hey, I’m actually a detective. I've been undercover in your life for almost two years. Nice to meet you again.

I lift an eyebrow.

“And which one do you prefer?”

She tilts her head, eyes never leaving mine.

“Relax,” she says softly. “If I wanted answers, I’d ask better questions. Tonight I’m just deciding whether you’re worth keeping around.”

I huff a quiet laugh, mostly because anything else would give her too much.

“Careful,” I say. “You make it sound like I’m a stray you’re debating taking home.”

Her smirk deepens.

“I don’t take in strays,” she replies. “I keep dangerous things close. Easier to watch that way.”

That lands exactly where she wants it to. I meet her gaze, refusing to look away.

“Then you’re making a risky choice.”

She shrugs, slow and elegant, never breaking eye contact. The part of her that knows we’re already standing too close to something we shouldn’t want.

“I’ve never been good at safe ones,” she says.

The silence stretches. The kind that hums under your skin and makes you painfully aware of your breathing.

“You always talk like this?” I ask. “Like you’re three moves ahead and everyone else is catching up.”

“Only when I am,” she says lightly. “Does that bother you, pretty boy?”

“No,” I answer. “It tells me where I stand.”

“And where’s that?” she asks, genuinely curious now.

I lean in just enough for her to notice.

“Right where I belong,” I say. “In the space you forgot to guard.”