Chapter 10 - Zane

It’s past midnight, and the condo is bathed in shadows, save for the soft, warm glow of a desk lamp on the far side of the room. Maisie is hunched over a stack of medical texts, her brow furrowed in concentration, flipping through pages with her pen tapping absently on the edge of the table.

She’s been at it for hours, barely saying a word since we finished training earlier, so focused on her reading that I’m not even sure she noticed me still sitting here, watching her from the couch.

A part of me wants to ask her why she pushes herself so hard. We’re laying low for now, nothing burdening us tonight except the memory of everything that’s happened. But she’s stubborn, driven in a way that makes her stay up, even after the long day we’ve had.

Before we lived together like this, I never knew how hardworking she was.

I can still hear the way her voice cracked just before she turned her back on me this afternoon. When I look at Maisie, somehow, I see someone I can’t afford to lose, and I have no idea how to say any of that without sounding like I’m trying to control her. Likewise, I have no idea how it became the case in the first place that she is that person to me.

A soft sigh escapes her lips, and I watch as she stretches her arms above her head, leaning back in the chair, the light casting soft shadows on her face. Her hair is messy, a few strands falling into her eyes, and she brushes them away absentmindedly, eyes already flicking back to the book.

It hits me all at once how easy it is to be around her. How strange it feels, even in this silence, to know she’s here. In the dim glow of the lamp, I feel this unexpected surge of something I can’t quite name.

I drag a hand through my hair, leaning back on the couch, trying to shake the thoughts loose, but they stick.

I’ve been down this road before—letting someone get close. It never ends well. I know better than to let myself feel anything for anyone, especially someone like Maisie. She’s kind, steady, and I know I don’t deserve it.

People like her have no idea what it's like to carry the kind of weight I do. To live with the ghosts of my past, the guilt that sinks into my bones and never lets go. She thinks she can handle what we’re doing here, but she hasn’t seen the worst of what’s coming. Not yet.

And she sure as hell hasn’t seen the worst of me.

I watch her, the soft flutter of her eyelashes as she reads, the way her mouth moves when she’s concentrating, and a part of me wants to open my mouth and tell her everything. To unload the mess of my past, to show her the real reason I’m the way I am.

Tessa was the first—the only real, long-term relationship I’ve ever had, really. She was chaos wrapped in beauty, a storm in human form; she was nothing like Maisie. It occurs to me that she would have probably hated Maisie for being so soft.

I fell for her before I even knew what was happening. She made me feel ten feet tall, like we were both giants. She made me feel powerful. I had never felt powerful before.

I told myself it was a phase when she started going missing for nights at a time, that she was just going through something. It wasn’t until the drunken rages and fights that I realized how deep I was in.

By then, it was too late to leave. I’d convinced myself I could fix it, that I could fix her.

But you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.

I was still young then, still learning how to survive on my own. I was newly a rogue. Loneliness clung to me like a sour smell. I felt it everywhere. Tessa’s chaos was just one more thing to navigate.

Eventually, I had to walk away.

I don’t know where she is now. Sometimes, in my charitable moments, I hope she’s alright. Sometimes I don’t.

It’s a pattern, one that’s been burned into my skull: people I care about always fall apart eventually. Maybe it’s something about me.

I look at her again, my chest tightening. Maisie deserves someone better than me, someone who can be soft with her, someone who doesn’t carry the impossible truth of his past like an anchor dragging him down. She deserves someone who can give her the things I can’t even imagine having for myself.

She yawns, stretching again, and her eyes flick up to meet mine for a split second, surprised to find me still there. Her face softens. It’s nearly a smile, tired but genuine.

“Didn’t think you were still awake,” she says, her voice quiet.

I shrug, trying to keep my tone casual. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Maisie studies me for a moment. Instead of asking, she just nods, her gaze drifting back to her book.

For a second, I think of telling her about Tessa, about the years I spent on my own as a rogue, scraping by with no one to trust. I think about the nights I spent wondering if I’d ever stop running, if I’d ever be able to breathe without looking over my shoulder. But the words die in my throat.

No. I can’t do that. Not with her.

Instead, I watch her in the dim light, allowing myself to feel that same swell of affection that haunts me when she’s near. Just for a moment. Just long enough to know it can’t last.

***

Morning arrives too quickly, the sky outside the condo overcast as the sun rises sluggishly behind thick clouds. In the slate-gray storm, thunder rumbles idly down south, not close enough for the rain to reach us.

I didn’t sleep much—my thoughts wouldn’t settle after last night. I spent hours lying in the dark, watching the ceiling as if it might have answers for me.

Maisie is already in the living room when I get up, sitting cross-legged on the couch, a cup of tea nestled in her hands. She’s wearing an oversized heather-gray hoodie, her hair still slightly messy from sleep. There’s a quiet hum of energy about her.

We don’t say much as we settle in for the call. She made me coffee like I’ve been making for her. This is the language of our cordiality: we can’t do much else.

The team is supposed to check in from out east in Rosecreek this morning. I’m more than ready to get back to work. I need the focus. I need something concrete to bury myself in. Life was simpler—sometimes I find myself thinking about when everything felt like it was life or death, when lying decided whether I would survive. I always did; clearly, I was good at it. Things felt easier, somehow.

At exactly nine o’clock, Keira’s face appears on the screen, her expression sharp and searching. She peers intently at us as if trying to make out everything she’s missed in our pixelated faces.

Olivia is beside her, and a few of the other team members fill out the screen in the background. I spot my brother’s blue hair and Rafael near the front of the frame, typing something into his phone.

“Morning,” Keira says, glancing between us. “I hope you’ve had time to recover after the ordeal at the party?”

Maisie leans forward, speaking before I can. “We’re fine, Keira.”

I suppose I can’t argue with her. I clear my throat. “What’s the situation? Do they know who we are?”

Keira shakes her head, her eyes narrowing. “As far as we can tell, your cover hasn’t been blown. We’ve been in their comms for days, and the Haverwood pack thinks you left the dinner party early, just another couple of rich shifters making a quiet exit before the chaos started. Whatever you told their second-in-command, it worked. You’re still flying under the radar, so the game is still on.”

Relief floods through me, though I don’t let it show. I catch Maisie’s eye, and for a split second, I see the same worry ease out of her shoulders.

“So we can still move forward with the plan?” I ask, keeping my tone steady.

Keira nods. I see her exchange a glance with Byron. “We have an opportunity here, but we need to act fast. The attack at the party was just the beginning. The Haverwood pack is escalating their operations, and we’ve got intel that they’re hosting a high-stakes event at their headquarters in a few days.”

Olivia cuts in, her voice surprisingly serious. “We’ve been tracking their communications, and we know it’s going to be heavily guarded, but it’s also going to be one of the few times when all their major players will be in the same place. This is our chance to infiltrate and gather intel on their leadership, their plans… everything.”

Maisie shifts beside me, her brow furrowing. “How are we supposed to get in? Won’t they recognize us from the dinner party?”

Keira’s lips twitch into a grim smile. “They might, but they have nothing on you, especially since we’ve secured you tickets with your fake names on them. Markus and Vivian now have ties to one of the Haverwood pack’s known associates. You’re welcome for that. Your false identities have already made it through their screening, thanks to Byron and I, of course. It’s a risky play, but we think it’s the best way to get close to them without raising suspicion.”

I feel the familiar tug of adrenaline at the corner of my mind, the feeling that always kicks in before a job like this. I have never loved danger. I’m no thrill-seeker. But sometimes, danger feels more like a home than anywhere else ever has.

“What’s our connection?” I ask.

Olivia pulls up a document on the screen. “You’ve invested in several major real estate ventures out west, and the Haverwood pack is looking to expand, so they’ve been in talks with your professional associate. They’ll probably bite your hand off for a chance to talk to you both about their expansion. They want to buy up prospective land.”

I glance at Maisie. She’s still listening intently. Her fingers drum on the underside of the table, almost silent.

Keira clears her throat. “This play entails a lengthy deception,” she says. “This isn’t just for this one infiltration—the operation will probably last months, and you’ll be ingratiated with their people fully. After this next job, there’ll be another, then another. Every action is crucial.”

She eyes each of us one at a time, gaze flicking from Maisie to me and back again.

“Prepare for the long haul,” she sighs. “You’re in this until the end.”