He knocked the back of his head against the pillar, welcoming the small pain as distraction from the tearing in his chest, the burning of his throat.
“Take me with you.”
He was still breathing. She did love him…as much as people like us can, but they both knew her associates would never bring Harry’s man into Nightingale. They would both die trying.
“Take me with you.”
Away from this, from any life outside the Section burned to ash. Away from duty and care and loneliness.
“Take me with you.”
To a life without the weight of conscience, of control.
To a life of air and warmth and M…
His mobile rang.
