Winging it, p.16
Winging It, page 16
I swirled my drink slowly, watching the bubbles rise and pop against the inside of the glass. It was easier to focus on the way the light caught the glittery syrup than admit how tightly my nerves were strung.
I leaned against the bar, feeling the coolness of the counter seep into my skin. Across the room, Eren sat with the woman, his body language still and composed. He moved like a man balancing on a wire — careful, precise, ready for any wrong move.
She leaned in closer, laughing at something he said, her hand brushing against his arm in a way that made my stomach tighten. Casual. Too casual. I hated how easily she reached for him, how naturally her fingers lingered on his sleeve.
I curled my hand around my glass, keeping my expression neutral. It was fine. It was part of the mission. Eren could handle himself. He always did.
After what felt like forever, Eren peeled himself away from the woman and started making his way back toward me. His expression was carved from stone, unreadable in the shifting lights of the club. I tried not to look too obviously relieved, but the moment he was out of her orbit, something in my chest loosened — like I’d been holding my breath without realizing it.
He slid onto the stool beside me, close enough that I could catch the faint scent of his jacket again — smoke, leather, something sharp and clean that grounded me in an instant. I wanted to pounce with questions, to pick apart every word she’d said to him, but for now, I just sat there, savoring the fact that he was back where he belonged — right beside me, not tangled up in someone else’s game.
"Let's go," he said gruffly.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
The night air hit like a splash of cold water after the warmth of Pulse — crisp, open, and quiet in a way that made the neon buzz behind us feel like a different world. I took a breath, savoring the strange kind of clarity that always came after a mission, even one that turned out to be more about awkward conversation than danger.
Eren stalked beside me, all grumbling menace and dark scowl. “Completely unhelpful,” he muttered, hands jammed in his coat pockets like the weight of disappointment might drag him down otherwise.
“Maybe she just wanted a drink and a break from Dominion drama,” I offered, side-eyeing him with a grin. “Wild concept, I know — someone going to a bar to relax instead of spill state secrets.”
He gave me a look that could’ve curdled milk. “It would’ve been helpful if she’d said something useful about Finn besides him being the cute bartender she hooked up with a few times."
“Sure,” I said, brushing my hair over my shoulder as we turned down the quieter street beside the building. “But we didn’t blow our cover, so I’m counting this as a win.”
Eren grunted — which, in his world, probably meant agreement. Sort of. Maybe.
“You’re far too cheerful for someone who spent the night being flirted with and ignored in equal measure,” he muttered.
“Oh, come on,” I said, nudging his elbow lightly. “It’s not every day I get to play undercover agent while sipping sparkly drinks. I’m allowed to be a little thrilled.”
He shook his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched — just barely.
“So what did you think of her?”
Eren didn’t even pause. “She wasn’t worth our time.”
“Mm,” I hummed, watching the way his jaw flexed like he was still biting down frustration. “You’re just mad because she touched your arm, and you didn’t know what to do about it.”
He turned to me, eyes narrowing. “She touched my arm. She didn’t propose.”
“But you’re so magnetic, Eren.” I widened my eyes, mocking reverence. “The strong, silent type — brooding and emotionally unavailable? Chicks eat that up.”
He rolled his eyes so hard I thought they might stick. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, here we are,” I said with a wink.
And for a second — just a flicker — he smiled. Not the tight-lipped smirk I’d gotten used to. Not a twitch. A real, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, reluctant smile.
I tucked that moment away in the back of my mind like a secret, glowing ember, and let the quiet stretch between us as we walked side by side into the dark.
Eren didn’t say much as we stepped away from the curb. The buzz of Pulse faded behind us, replaced by the steady rhythm of our footsteps and the low hum of the city winding down. I expected him to split off toward his car, but instead, he kept pace beside me until we reached mine.
He stopped just short of the driver’s side door, arms crossed, face unreadable in the glow of the streetlight.
“Follow me,” he said.
I tilted my head. “Okay, cryptic. Is this one of those silent-agent power moves, or are you actually going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Do you have to ask questions all the time?” he muttered, already turning toward his own car parked a few spots away.
“I do when I’m being told to tail someone like a caffeine-deprived bloodhound,” I called after him.
He didn’t answer, just lifted a hand in a lazy, dismissive wave and slid into his car.
I stared after him for a beat, lips twitching into a smile as I shook my head. Then I climbed into mine, buckled in, and started the engine.
I didn’t know where we were headed.
But I followed him anyway.
The sign flickered as I pulled into the gravel lot behind Eren’s car. Sunny’s Diner, painted in hand-lettered script across a weathered teal sign, glowed like a beacon in the dark — cozy, a little crooked, and exactly the kind of place you’d stumble into when the world felt too sharp around the edges.
Eren was already out of his car and walking toward the entrance like he didn’t need to check if I was following. Typical. I parked beside him and jogged to catch up, curiosity buzzing through me.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of grilled onions and fresh coffee. The vinyl booths were cracked with age, and a jukebox in the corner quietly hummed through a Fleetwood Mac track. Before we even made it to the counter, a voice barked from behind the grill.
“Well, look who finally showed up. You better be hungry, Thorne, or I’m charging you double for the attitude.”
Eren didn’t even flinch. “You always charge me double.”
"Now, who’s this ray of sunshine?”
I turned to find a man behind the counter—grizzled, gray at the temples, arms crossed over a grease-stained apron. He had Eren’s same sharp eyes, but where Eren was all edges and restraint, this man looked like he knew how to throw a punch and a party. He tossed the rag over his shoulder and came around the counter with a grin.
“Wes Thorne,” he said, sticking out a hand. “I run this place. And you are…?”
“Aurora Vale,” I replied, shaking his hand, surprised by the warmth of his grip. “Nice to meet you.”
Wes gave me a once-over—not in a creepy way, more like he was sizing me up. “You with the grump?”
I glanced over at Eren, who was already sliding into a booth like he hoped the fake-leather cushions would swallow him whole.
“You could say that,” I said, smiling.
Wes chuckled, jerking a thumb toward the booth. “Well, bless your patience. He hasn’t brought someone around in years—hell, maybe ever. I was starting to think he’d sworn off people altogether.”
I laughed, even as Eren let out a loud, suffering sigh.
Wes leaned in a little. “Just so you know, he was a real punk as a kid. Always brooding, always picking fights, couldn’t take a joke to save his life.”
Eren muttered something that sounded like “I can still walk out of here.”
I just smiled and followed him to the booth, heart still buzzing with that odd warmth. Wes’s last name hadn’t escaped me. Thorne. Same sharp eyes as Eli, same curl to the smirk. The family resemblance was undeniable.
"I certainly hope this isn't a first date," Wes said from behind the counter.
“Don’t you have eggs to burn?” Eren shot back.
“I like her,” Wes said, ignoring him completely as he poured two mugs of coffee and brought them over without asking. “She’s got a spark. How'd you bag her?"
I bit back a smile as I wrapped my hands around the warm mug. Something told me I was going to love this place.
“We’re not—” Eren stopped himself, jaw tightening. “She’s just here for the food.”
The diner had the kind of glow that softened the world around it—cracked leather booths, the hiss of coffee brewing, and the kind of fluorescent lighting that somehow didn’t feel cold. I wrapped my hands around the chipped ceramic mug in front of me, letting the warmth soak into my fingers like a quiet balm. For a moment, it almost felt like a normal night.
Wes leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest, that same smirk he’d worn since we walked in still playing on his face. “So,” he drawled, eyeing me with mischievous curiosity, “you single then, hmm?”
I choked slightly on my sip, startled but amused. Before I could recover, Eren was already scowling.
I raised my brows, fighting the grin that tugged at my lips. “Well, I do like a good muffin.”
Wes chuckled, clearly enjoying the discomfort radiating off Eren like a heatwave. “You’re not half bad at keeping up,” he said, nodding approvingly at me. “Most folks can’t take the glare.”
“Third year at the DAA,” I offered, smiling easily. “Work-study. With this charming ray of sunshine.”
Eren looked like he was seriously debating sliding under the table.
Wes gave a low whistle. “She’s got guts. And patience, apparently.”
I sipped my coffee again, still watching Eren out of the corner of my eye. “I wouldn’t say patience. More like… curiosity. He’s a puzzle. A prickly one.”
“Prickly?” Eren muttered, eyes fixed on the window like it might provide him with an escape route.
Wes laughed, pushing off the counter with an exaggerated shrug. “I’ll give you two a minute. You look like you’ve got enough sparks between you to fry the circuits in the jukebox.”
With a wink tossed my way, he disappeared into the back, leaving a thick silence behind him—except it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… warm. Familiar. Like we were on the edge of something we hadn’t quite named yet.
I glanced across the booth at Eren, whose ears were definitely a little pink. I didn’t say anything.
But I smiled.
The warmth of the diner curled around me like a second skin, the kind that lulled you into thinking everything was okay—even when it wasn’t. I cradled my mug between both hands, letting the heat soak into my fingers while Eren sat across from me, arms crossed, shoulders still tense like he was bracing for impact.
I broke the silence first, because someone had to. “Okay,” I murmured, setting the mug down with a soft clink. “Chris said Finn was on edge for weeks before it happened. And not just club drama—he meant something deeper. Spent time in Carissa's office, trying to maybe quit."
Eren gave a slight nod, his jaw tight, eyes locked somewhere over my shoulder like he was chasing ghosts. “He wasn’t just anxious,” he said. “He was being squeezed. Someone had leverage on him.”
I leaned in. “Right? He was under pressure from all sides—whatever Carissa trying to get him to stay at Pulse, plus whoever was pulling strings in the background.” I lowered my voice. “And that woman? The way she looked at you tonight? It wasn’t casual.”
Eren’s eyes snapped back to mine. “She doesn't have the brain cells to do anything that would link her to the black market. Maybe he slept with her a few times. You know, release tension?"
"I mean, no, I don't know," I said, hoping my cheeks weren't red.
The truth was, Eli and I had never…
And that was one of the reasons he had been so… angry.
“And the suppressants,” I added quickly, mind racing. “They weren’t for control. They were for testing. What if Finn was part of a trial he didn’t agree to?”
Eren didn’t answer right away. But something flickered across his face—like recognition. Or regret. “That would explain the secrecy,” he said. “Why he didn’t go to his higher-ups. Why he was scared.”
“If he pushed back,” I said quietly, “they’d need to shut him up.”
Eren met my gaze. “And someone did.”
A chill skated down my spine. I exhaled slowly, pressing my hands flat against the table to steady myself. “We need to figure out more."
He gave a short nod. “I’ll authorize access to their secondary intake files.”
I hesitated before adding, “You know, you could just say thank you.”
His eyes cut to me. “For what?”
“For not just filing paperwork and humming pop songs badly.”
That earned me the ghost of a smile—barely there, but real.
Then I noticed it. The shadows under his eyes. The way his fingers curled tighter around his mug.
“You didn’t sleep last night,” I said softly.
He waved it off like it meant nothing. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not." I swallowed. “Sorry for calling you—”
“I said I’m fine, Vale.”
His voice was sharper than he meant it to be. I didn’t flinch, just leaned back and let the silence fill the space between us again.
He refocused on the case like nothing happened, like he hadn’t just bled exhaustion into the air between us. And I let him. For now.
But the truth was, while we chased what happened to Finn, I was starting to pay more attention to the quiet ways Eren Thorne was unraveling too.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
I stood in front of the mirror, tugging the zipper of my hoodie halfway up before pausing to study myself. The cotton hung loose, soft and nondescript—exactly what I needed. No shine, no sharp lines, nothing that said Dominion Authority cadet. Just a girl in denim and shadows trying to stay invisible long enough to ask the right questions.
I pulled the hood up—not all the way, just enough to cast a faint shadow across my face—and gave my reflection a quick once-over. This wasn’t about vanity. It was about control. I needed to be small tonight. Quiet. Unassuming. And more than anything, I needed to do this alone.
Eren didn’t know I was going back to Pulse. I told myself it was because he deserved a break—he hadn’t slept well in days, and his eyes were starting to carry a storm. But maybe, deep down, I just wanted to prove something. To him. To myself.
The night air wrapped around me the second I stepped outside—cool and clean in a way that Pulse never was. My boots echoed softly on the pavement, each step more certain than the last. The city glowed ahead, humming with its usual nightlife buzz, but my path was focused. I was going to talk to Carissa. I wasn’t expecting much. Just… closure.
The nightclub loomed ahead, all neon and heartbeat bass. I slipped inside like a whisper, letting the heat and sound wash over me. The crowd wasn’t too thick—just enough to offer cover.
Chris spotted me the moment I approached the bar.
“Well, well,” he said, wiping his hands on a towel and grinning like I’d just made his night. “Back already? You sure you’re not just into the vibe?”
“Research,” I said with a soft smile, leaning my elbows on the bar. “Low-key.”
He nodded as he poured something sparkly and orange into a glass. “Still on the house, Sunshine.”
I gave him a grateful nod but barely touched the drink. I let it sit there on the bar, fizzing quietly under the club lights like it was trying to keep me company. My eyes scanned the crowd before I decided to move.
I climbed the narrow staircase to Carissa’s office, each step creaking underfoot like it was trying to warn me off. The bass from the dance floor below thudded through the walls in slow, distant pulses—like a heartbeat that didn’t belong to me. My own was faster. Sharper. Coiled with questions I wasn’t sure I wanted answers to.
I paused at the top and knocked. Lightly. More out of courtesy than need.
“Come in,” came Carissa’s voice—smooth, tired, vaguely annoyed.
I eased the door open and stepped into the low-lit room. It was warm, close, and smelled faintly of old perfume and spiced liquor. Posters from past club events curled at the corners, crowding the walls like ghosts. A few half-drained bottles sat on her desk beside a cluster of flickering LED candles that failed at cozy. The whole place felt curated and chaotic all at once—like her.
She looked up, blinking as if she’d expected someone else. Her expression shifted too fast for me to catch all of it—surprise, maybe unease—before she settled on a smile.
“Aurora Vale, right? Thorne's cadet? Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” she said. Her voice was friendly, but it had a tautness to it, like a string pulled too tight.
I stayed by the door, fingers still curled from knocking. “Hey. I just wanted to check in. I heard… Finn was talking about quitting.”
There. Simple. Honest. Just enough to see what she’d give me.
Carissa’s smile didn’t fade, but her eyes flicked—just slightly—to the side. “Finn?” she echoed, too casual. “Well, I mean, that's how it was. Hot and cold. Dramatic sometimes.”
I tilted my head. “I don't think I've heard witnesses describe him like that.”
She brushed a lock of hair off her shoulder, a motion so practiced it felt like deflection. “Burnout gets to all of us, eventually. Especially with Dominion issues on top of everything.”
“Dominion issues?” I repeated gently.
“Mm.” She reached for a glass of something amber and took a slow sip. “I just mean… you know. Powers shift. People get scared. He wasn’t sleeping, that’s all I meant.”
My gut tensed. She wasn’t lying, exactly—but she was dodging.
I moved a step closer. “Was he scared of something specific?”
Carissa looked at me for a long moment, her mouth parting like she had something to say—and then she smiled again, smaller this time. “Cadet Vale,” she said, almost with pity. “Some people don’t need a reason to fall apart.”
