Chapter 143: Jake
Sloane and Reid left about an hour after the whole Charlie explosion.
Honestly? I’m glad Charlie stepped in. Because if I had, it would’ve turned into a full-blown screaming match with Sloane, and I’m not exactly known for keeping my cool when someone goes after people I care about. Reid’s worse—he probably would’ve said something he couldn’t take back.
And the truth is, he and I already have a feeling something happened to Madeline before she came here. Something in the city. But it’s not our place to force her to say it, and it sure as hell isn’t Sloane’s.
So now it’s just me, Charlie, Finn, Liam, and Madeline left.
Finn and Liam look about done—eyes glassy, half-zoned out from hours of studying. Probably still half-hungover from last night too.
“Alright,” I say finally, pushing my chair back. “You guys are done for the day.”
Finn blinks like he didn’t expect mercy. “For real?”
“For real.”
I lean back, crossing my arms. “I’ll talk to Reid about the schedule tonight—who’s on the Vigil in the morning and what we’ll be working on.”
They don’t need to hear that twice.
They’re already grabbing their notebooks and manuals, tripping over each other in their rush to pack up.
“Charlie, you driving everyone?” I ask.
She’s already stretching, yawning dramatically. “Yeah, I need a nap too. So hurry up guys.”
They’re almost out the door when Madeline looks up from her laptop, frowning slightly. “Wait—could you guys give me like… fifteen minutes? I need to finish this upload. If I close my computer or leave Wi-Fi, I’ll lose everything.”
Finn groans audibly, throwing his head back. “Mads, come on—”
“Fifteen minutes,” she repeats, giving him a guilty smile.
He looks like he might whine about it, but I cut in. “It’s fine. Take your time. I’ll drive her when she’s done.”
She blinks at me. “You sure?”
Before I can even answer, the other three chorus in unison, “YES. That’s better.”
Charlie waves dramatically on her way out, too happy to leave. Finn and Liam follow, dragging their bags like kids leaving detention.
The door closes behind them, and silence settles over the house.
Madeline glances at me, apologetic. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you if you have things to do.”
I shake my head, sitting back down, opening my laptop again. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve still got a lot of work to catch up on.”
She smiles softly, then goes back to her screen.
The quiet between us isn’t awkward—it’s… calm.
Just the sound of keys clicking, the occasional creak of a chair. Outside, the sun’s starting to dip, casting long golden light through the window that makes her hair shimmer like copper.
After a while, I glance up. “Anything good come up?”
Her smile blooms, warm and genuine. “Once it all downloads, the report will be available for you and Reid to review.”
I nod. “But are you happy with it?”
She looks up, surprised by the question. “Yeah. I am. It’s—” she pauses, then grins a little wider. “It reminds me of when you told me your favorite observation was that pod of orcas trying to hunt a blue whale.”
I chuckle. “Didn't think you'd remember that.”
She waves a hand quickly. “Of course I do. I know, it’s not the same thing at all, but still—the blue and fin whales we saw? They were massive. Way bigger than the Vigil. Being that close…” Her voice trails off as she starts gesturing with her hands, trying to explain. “You could feel their power through the water. The way they moved together, like the ocean itself shifted for them. And maybe—maybe it’s migration, or a feeding pattern, or—”
She stops herself suddenly, realizing she’s rambling again, cheeks going pink. “I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”
“Yeah.” My voice comes out low. Rougher than it should.
Her blush spreads down her neck. She drops her eyes back to her screen.
I let the silence stretch before I say quietly, “It’s fine.”
A beat.
“I like it.”
Her breath catches, almost imperceptibly.
I watch her shoulders stiffen, then soften again, like she’s not sure if she should smile or look away. She chooses both.
The question comes out low, almost careless — but not really.
“Your data still needs to download?”
She doesn’t look up at first, her fingers pausing mid-keystroke. “Yeah,” she says softly. Her voice gives her away — she knows what’s coming.
“So you have to wait.”
A small nod. “I have to wait.”
Silence again. The kind that hums, electric, somewhere between tension and anticipation.
I lean back in my chair, spread my knees a little, the wood creaking under me. “Then come here.”
Her breath catches. Her eyes flick up to mine, wide, searching. “That’s your favorite thing to say to me,” she whispers.
A slow grin spreads across my face. “I can think of a few more things I’d rather say.”
Color floods her cheeks, that pink that always makes me want to mark her, taste her. But she stands anyway.
Each step she takes toward me is hesitant but deliberate, like she’s crossing a line we both drew and kept redrawing. And when she reaches me, her back ends up brushing the edge of the dining table — the only thing keeping her from stepping back further.
“I like it better when you're this close.” I say quietly.
Her lips part, but no sound comes out.
She’s waiting.
And God help me, I like when she waits.