Chapter 24 James, The Rookie

Chapter 24 James, The Rookie
Elodie’s eyes flew open, sharp and startled.

For a few seconds she could only stare at the ceiling—slightly damp, darker than it should be—until memory caught up with her all at once.

The screech of brakes that tore through her ears.
Glass exploding outward, biting into her skin.
A man’s head—burst open by a bullet—right in front of her eyes.

She sat up too fast, and the shock still clung to her body, leaving her trembling. Her chest tightened, tears threatening to spill—but she swallowed them back when she noticed a man standing quietly in the corner of the room.

As if he had been waiting for her to wake.

The Rookie.

“How are you feeling?” James asked.

His expression had been cold at first—sharp enough that it felt like a warning, as if daring her not to cry. Then, almost unnervingly, he smiled. Polite. Almost friendly.

It only made Elodie’s skin crawl.

“You—” Her voice came out hoarse.

“Yes. Me,” he said easily. “The Rookie. You can call me James now.” He tilted his head, studying her. “I know you have a lot of questions. Especially about the button—”

“Where is Noah?” she cut in.

James paused.

Just for a fraction of a second—but Elodie saw it. Surprise flickered across his face.

“He’s not here,” James answered carefully. “But he’ll come later.”

“And you’re here on his orders?” she asked.

James nodded.

Something inside Elodie dropped.

She clutched the blanket tighter, her fingers curling into the fabric. “Then the driver—”

“He’s dead,” James said calmly. Too calmly. “He bought you time. That was his job.”

The words landed heavier than any scream.

Elodie closed her eyes. The image came back instantly—the way the man had fought even when he was already bleeding, the way he had shouted at her to stay down.

“He didn’t have to die,” she whispered.

James’s smile faded, replaced by something more solemn. “In our world, Miss Elodie, people die so plans can move forward.”

She looked up at him, her gaze sharp despite the tremor still running through her body. “Noah doesn’t treat people like disposable plans.”

James met her stare. “No. He doesn’t.”

A beat of silence stretched between them.

“That’s exactly why this is happening,” he added.

Elodie felt it then—something cold settling deep in her chest.

“…What did he do?” she asked.

James didn’t answer right away. He walked closer, stopped beside the bed, and lowered his voice.

“He chose an ending,” he said. “One where you live.”

Elodie’s breath hitched.

“And him?” she asked quietly.

James looked at her for a long moment before answering.

“That,” he said, “was never part of the ending he allowed himself to have.”

Elodie frowned, confusion cutting through the fog in her head.

“I thought you didn’t belong to any organization.”

James leaned back against the wall, arms crossing loosely over his chest. “I work for anyone brave enough to pay me.”

That was answer enough.

So Noah had paid him.
Paid James to save her.

The realization settled heavy in Elodie’s chest.

Silence stretched between them—long enough that the faint hum of electricity and the distant creak of the building became uncomfortably loud. James was the one who broke it.

“You’re not going to ask about anything else?” he said casually. “Like where your brother is?”

Elodie stiffened—but only for a second.

She glanced at him, her expression dulled not by indifference, but by exhaustion. The answer had already carved itself into her mind.

“He’s with O’Connell,” she said quietly. “And Noah is trying to figure out how to get him back.”

James blinked, then let out a low whistle.

“Wow,” he said. “You already know?”

“I think I’ve spent enough time around Noah,” Elodie replied, her voice steady despite the tremor beneath it, “to at least understand how his world works.”

James nodded slowly, impressed. “True. Long enough to understand.”
Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he added, “And long enough to fall in love with him, too.”

Elodie shot him a sharp look.

James immediately lifted his hands in mock surrender, a dry laugh escaping him. “Relax. I’m joking.”
A pause.
“And even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t care. That’s your business.”

Elodie didn’t respond.

She studied him instead—quietly, carefully.

This was the same boy she had seen in the arena. The one who had moved without hesitation, without mercy. The one who had pulled the trigger and ended a life with surgical precision.

And yet here he was—speaking calmly, smiling lightly.

Too lightly.

She found it unsettling how human he seemed now. How casually friendly he could be, as if moments ago he hadn’t watched a man’s head explode under his gunfire—and then continued smiling afterward.

James caught her staring.

“What?” he asked.

“…Nothing,” Elodie said, looking away. “I just didn’t expect you to be like this.”

“Like what?”

“Normal.”

James chuckled softly. “People say that a lot.” His smile thinned. “They usually forget that normal is just a mask you learn to wear when the blood dries.”

The room fell silent again.

Outside, the world kept moving—as if nothing had shattered at all.

Elodie hugged her knees closer to her chest. Somewhere out there, Noah was still moving too.



The motel looked almost inviting from the outside.

The place was stuck in another decade—peeling paint, thin curtains, windows that had seen too much weather and too many secrets. It needed repairs, patience, money.

None of which Noah had come to offer.

He parked without killing the engine properly and crossed the lot in long, sharp strides. The room number they’d agreed on burned in his mind. When he reached the door, he didn’t knock.

He opened it and found Elodie.

The sight hit him harder.

For a brief second, Noah simply stood there, eyes sweeping the room with ruthless efficiency—corners, windows, bathroom door, shadows. Clear. Only then did his gaze return to her.

Elodie froze when she saw him.

And then whatever had been holding her upright finally let go.

She ran.

Her legs protested, aching and unsteady, but she didn’t slow down. She crashed into his arms, fingers fisting into his coat as if letting go would send her back into hell. Noah caught her instantly, arms closing around her with an instinct so fast it betrayed how tightly he’d been holding himself together.

Her face buried against his chest. He felt the tremor she’d been fighting for hours.

He pulled back just enough to look at her properly.

His eyes moved over her with sharp focus—her hair, her face, her arms. Small cuts marked her skin, thin red lines left behind by shattered glass. He knew exactly whose hands had caused them.

But she was here, safe.

That was enough to tell him he’d made the right call.

“We’re leaving,” Noah said, already guiding her toward the door. There was no hesitation in his movements, no interest in the room or the coat slipping uselessly from her shoulders. None of it mattered.

Now he was taking her somewhere better.
Somewhere no one would reach her.