"Finn," she said, exasperated. "Of course, you'd be the one to kidnap me."
He frowned at her, rubbing his neck where her knife had been. "I didn't kidnap you. I saved you. Again." He gave her a sour look. "And I don't know about you, but holding a knife to someone's neck isn't the best way to thank them."
She rolled her eyes and leaned against the counter. "I thought I told you that I didn't need saving."
He threw his hands up in the air. "Oh, I'm sorry. Should I just have let them kidnap you, then?"
"Let who kidnap me?" she asked, confused.
He gave her a look. "Whoever it was that shot you with that tranquil dart."
She touched her neck unconsciously. So she had been right, it had definitely been a tranquil dart. The thing was, it didn't surprise her at all. There had been many attempts to kidnap her before. She was the city's most notorious assassin, it wasn't uncommon. There were people in this city who wanted her dead. Her only question was, who could it have been?
Ari set her knife down, absentmindedly watching Finn fiddling with a pan on the stove. She frowned thoughtfully. "You think it could've been the men who attacked me at the harbor?"
He adjusted the settings on the stove and turned to her, brows furrowed. "It's definitely a possibility."
"What do they want with me?" she murmured to herself. Then she looked up at him. "How'd you know I was in trouble anyway? You haven't been following me around, have you?"
He snorted. "Don't flatter yourself. I was on my way to the Underground again. I ran into you the moment I saw you get hit with the dart."
Her eyes narrowed. "Why were you going to the Underground?"
He opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to answer her, then seemed to think better of it. He turned back to the stove. "That's none of your business."
She raised her eyebrows, but didn't push it. She peered over his shoulder. "What're you making?"
"Pancakes."
She wrinkled her nose. "That looks disgusting."
With a glare, he said, "No one said you had to eat it."
Rolling her eyes, she turned her attention to the contents of the kitchen. The walls were painted with the same painstakingly cheerful yellow. The fridge was cluttered with photographs and messy paintings, clearly the work of a child, held up by ladybug magnets. It sent a wave of nostalgia through her, reminded her of her childhood, of laughter lines and sunlit days, but she pushed it down before she had time to mull it over.
The things of her past were forbidden territory. They were meant to stay where they belonged—in the past.
She turned back to Finn. "You don't live here, do you?" she asked him in distaste.
He answered without turning around. "Nah. At least, not anymore. I mean, this used to be my childhood home, but a different family owns it now. They're away on vacation."
Surprised, she hopped up on the counter across from him, interest perked. "This used to be your childhood home?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Though I don't remember it being so—" He squinted around at the walls. "—bright."
Ari rested her chin on her hand, elbow perched on her knee, and asked, "What was it like, then?"
Finn blinked up at her, surprised. His face took on a look she knew too well, one she was familiar with because she herself had worn it many times before. It was the desperate look of someone who had realized they'd said too much, who wished they hadn't said anything at all, because it meant that someone had gotten through the carefully constructed walls you'd put around your heart.
