Free Fracture by Amanda K. Byrne Page B

is settling over the city as I run home an hour later, stomach tumbling from the time spent with Mila and her sister. I’m coming out of a stupor, a coma, the long–held anguish crumbling bit by bit. I can’t go home, but maybe it’s time I start thinking about this place, finding a way to live rather than survive. The war can’t go on forever, and if I’m here, I’ll be close to Ryan.
         I suppose, in a way, I have Declan to thank for that. For insisting I hold his hand when all I wanted was to disappear into myself again.
         He’s slumped on the couch, a book in his hand. He doesn’t glance up as I walk through the living room to the bedroom and put away the new clothes. For the best. Just because I’m reconsidering my misanthropic existence doesn’t mean pursuing an attachment to the enigma currently taking up space in my flat. He’ll leave eventually, and I don’t want to waste my time on something already stamped with an expiration date.
         Enough.
         He continues to ignore me when I wander out into the living room. “So do you need help getting your stuff back to your flat?”
         “Why would I need help?” He lowers the book.
         I wave a hand at his walking cast. “You can get around on your own now. You don’t need someone helping you.”
         “Doesn’t mean I can go back. You saw what it looked like, didn’t you? It’s probably being watched.”
         The cushion makes a soft
whuff
as I flop down. “What happened in there, anyway?”
         He shrugs. “Wish I knew. Came home and found they’d trashed the place.”
         
They
. “Which they?”
         “Either side. I’m guessing government since it was their boots kicking my arse. One of them kept asking me where it was.”
         Cold surges under my skin. “Where what was?”
         “Rebel headquarters.”
         “Why would they think that?”
         Another shrug. “From the way they trashed my flat, they probably think I took a picture of it.”
         I sit up. Declan’s just become more dangerous. “Do you? Do you know where it is?”
Please say no.
Please let it be the truth. Please don’t be another weapon for Cristian to use against me.
         He doesn’t answer me right away, just takes in my rigid posture, the fingers twisting together in my lap. The nerves tightening my mouth and screaming under my skin. Every second that passes takes the likelihood he
does
know something higher. If he knows, he can’t stay here. I can’t have that in my house. I’m about ask him again when he answers.
         “No.”
         

Chapter Eight
         “No?”
         “No,” he repeats. He sets the book on the coffee table with a sigh. “One of the soldiers must have seen me hanging around with my camera someplace, followed me home.”
         “So they trashed your apartment and jumped you when they found you on the street.” It sounded pretty typical of them, using whatever means necessary to get what they want. Both sides are big fans of it. When we could still access the outside world with regularity, the international press called it one of the most brutal conflicts in modern history. “Why are you here, anyway? You said it’s an assignment?”
         “I asked for it. No one was getting recent footage, and the pay was three times what I’d normally get for a high risk assignment. Hard to pass up.” He shifted on the couch. “You?”
         I shouldn’t have asked. I should have kept my mouth shut. Questions lead to conversations I don’t want to have. “No lying, Nora,” he adds, seeing my hesitation.
         What difference does it make, who I tell? If it’s Declan or Mila or someone else? “I…” The words stick in my throat. Swallowing doesn’t help. I drop my gaze, drop my voice. “My fiancé was here, working on his thesis. I got stuck after they closed the city. Can’t get