Sitting there on those rocks, perched over the world, they seemed like two soldiers who had just walked through the darkest halls of Hel and were taking a well-earned break.

Hunt turned from the picture and rubbed at the tattoo on his brow. A flick of his power had the heavy gray curtains sliding shut over the floor-to-ceiling windows on a chill wind. He peeled off his clothes one by one, and found the bathroom was just as spacious as the bedroom.

Hunt showered quickly and fell into bed with his skin still drying. The last thing he saw before sleep overtook him was the photo of Bryce and Danika, frozen forever in a moment of peace.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

28

Hunt woke the moment he scented a male in his room, his fingers wrapping around the knife under his pillow. He opened an eye, grip tightening on the hilt, remembering every window and doorway, every possible would-be weapon that he could wield to his advantage—

He found Syrinx sitting on the pillow beside his, the chimera’s smooshed-up face peering into his own.

Hunt groaned, a breath exploding out of him. Syrinx just swatted at his face.

Hunt rolled out of reach. “Good morning to you, too,” he mumbled, scanning the room. He’d definitely shut the door last night. It now gaped wide open. He glanced at the clock.

Seven. He hadn’t noticed Bryce get up for work—hadn’t heard her buzzing about the apartment or the music he knew she liked to play.

Granted, he hadn’t heard his own door open, either. He’d slept like the dead. Syrinx rested his head on Hunt’s shoulder, and huffed a mournful sigh.

Solas spare him. “Why do I get the feeling that if I give you breakfast, it’ll actually be your second or third meal of the day?”

An innocent blink of those round eyes.

Unable to help himself, Hunt scratched the little beast behind his silly ears.

The sunny apartment beyond his room was silent, the light warming the pale wood floors. He eased from the bed, hauling on his pants. His shirt was a wreck from last night’s events, so he left it on the floor, and— Shit. His phone. He grabbed it from the bedside table and flicked through the messages. Nothing new, no missions from Micah, thank the gods.

He left the phone on the dresser beside the door and padded into the great room.

No sign or sound. If Quinlan had just left—

He stormed across the space, to the hall on the other side. Her bedroom door was cracked, as if Syrinx had seen himself out, and—

Sound asleep. The heap of blankets had been twisted and tossed around, and Quinlan lay belly-down on the bed, wrapped around a pillow. The position was almost identical to the one she’d been in last night in the club, flung over Juniper.