I was getting there. I would’ve told her about Sanford, about what he and I talked about. But was I really going to tell her everything? That Malerick had confirmed it? That Winston had taken it even further?

“We had a lot to discuss this morning,” I say because I won’t lie to her. Not now. I’m not sure if I would’ve told her everything. Not yet.

She breathes out, something flickering across her face before she folds her arms tight across her chest, like she’s holding herself together. “Then why didn’t you?”

There are a hundred ways I could answer that. A hundred excuses, explanations, half-truths.

But I’ve already given her enough bullshit.

I let out a slow breath, my voice dropping. “Because I didn’t want you to run.”

Silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating.

Malerick clears his throat. “He’s right about one thing. Winston isn’t just looking for you. He’s setting you up.”

Blythe swallows hard, her throat working, but she doesn’t look away from me. “And you knew this?”

I hold her stare. “I’m working on a plan with my people, Blythe. You can’t just run. This is a lot more complicated now.”

She shakes her head, slower this time. Processing. Piecing things together.

“So what now?” Her voice is quieter like she already knows she won’t like the answer. “You keep me locked up here? Hide me forever?”

I step closer, slowly, not to startle her. Close enough that if she wants to walk away, she’ll have to push past me.

“No,” I say. “But I need you to trust me. To give me a little more time to come up with a solid plan.”

Her jaw tightens, but it’s her eyes that give her away. The flash of hesitation. The way she pulls her arms tighter like she’s bracing for impact. Like she wants to believe me, but can’t let herself.

“I’m not sure if I can trust you,” she says, and those words hurt more than if she had slapped me.

I nod once. “Then let me prove it.”

Malerick exhales, rubbing a hand down his face. “I have to get back to the station. I’ve already slowed things down, but Winston’s people are everywhere. Every town he can think of in the country. His reach is fucking scary. If he shows up . . . we need a plan, Atlas. And someone just told me you’re good, but you’re rusty.”

My jaw tightens. “Who the fuck did you talk to?”

He shrugs. “You tell me why they said that, and I’ll give you more details.”