Chapter 12 · They Took Joy

My phone buzzes against my hip, right where his hand still is.

"Don't," Cassian says, low, when I reach for it. His fingers are still curled at my waist from whatever we were about to do before common sense left the room. "Whoever it is can wait."

"It's Joy's ringtone." I twist out from under his arm. "She doesn't call after midnight unless something's on fire."

He lets me go. That's new. Two minutes ago he wouldn't let me breathe without asking permission first, and now his hand drops like it's been burned.

I answer. It's not Joy's voice.

"Sloane Hart." A man, bored, like he's reading off a clipboard. "Your friend talks a lot for someone with duct tape on her mouth."

The room tilts. "Who is this."

"Doesn't matter. What matters is you're at the Aldergate now, room 914, with the Chicago wolf's scent all over you, and we know exactly which port slip you're supposed to be delivering yourself to at six a.m." A pause, wet, chewing something. "You didn't show.