Our Dark Duet

Kate’s pulse pounded in her head as she cracked a glorified glow stick—Liam’s idea—and tossed it into the shadows, flooding the warehouse with steady white light. “Kate . . . ,” chimed in Riley for the first time. “Be careful.” She snorted. Thank God for armor, even if it was makeshift. “Turn right.” Her boots slid on the slick pavement as she rounded the corner onto a side street. But there was something else—something he wasn’t telling her. “She has no voice,” he added darkly. “But she’s alive.” August’s head bobbed once, and Kate wondered why he had veered toward this particular truth, and what he’d swerved away from. At last, the cage was loaded onto the truck, and Sloan stepped up beside it, the closeness of the gold a pain he tried to savor.