“What’s going on out here?” A Guard rushes out, slamming the door behind him. His boots storm in my direction, but the smoke and water mask my scent, and his feet splash past me toward the Crux.

I wait a beat . . . two, checking to make sure the camera on the ceiling is turned away from me before sprinting through the thick smoke toward Doug’s apartment. I wave the key card in front of the scanner, throwing myself over the threshold and slamming the door closed behind me as I draw my knife.

My eyes burn, and I wipe my face on my sleeve. I’m in a dimly lit room. There’s a sofa and a bar, and a glass-topped oval coffee table. I start at a flash of movement. A shadow passes behind the thin gap under a set of double doors at the far end of the room. Adjusting my grip on the knife, I start toward the doors. They’re bolted and padlocked from the outside.

“Who’s there?” My pulse races at the sound of Fleur’s voice.

I’m reaching for my lockpicks when I spot a set of keys on the glass coffee table. Frantic, I thumb through them until I find the right one. I strip away the padlock, throw the bolt, and swing open the doors.

Fleur’s breath hitches when she sees me.

“Jack?”

I’m across the room, my hands around her face, in her hair, my breath ragged, my throat thick with smoke and exaltation and fear. I cup her head, drinking in her face, her eyes, her body. “You’re okay? You’re okay?” She’s wrapped in a chunky sweater that hangs to her thighs. A dark red stain peeks out from the torn leg of the jumpsuit she wears under it. I reach for it at the same time she reaches for the tear in my sleeve. Our fingers lace together and she pulls me closer.

“I’m okay,” she whispers, choking on a laugh. Then a sob. A tear slides down her face, both of us shaking and grinning like idiots.

I take her gently by the face, framing her smile with my hands, leaving smears of blood and smoke on her cheeks. The kiss I steal feels hurried and desperate. “I thought I lost you.”

Her arms loop around my neck, holding me to her. “You’re too damn stubborn. I knew you’d find me.” Our breath comes faster, our kisses becoming frantic and deeper, full of need and disbelief, as if we’re each expecting the other to disappear.

I need to feel every part of her, to know she’s really here. I wrap my arms around her waist and lift her, a hiss of pain escaping when my stitches pull under her weight. My hand curls under her injured leg and she sucks in a sharp breath as I hook it around me.