Moonlit Secrets
She clipped the transmitter into the strap of the messenger bag, disguised as a seam reinforcement.
“Check,” Marco said.
A low hiss filled the room, then Lena’s breath, intimate in my ears through the monitors. She swallowed. The sound was so human it made my own throat tighten.
“Levels are good,” Marco said, sliders inching. “Cass, you’re on transcription.”
I moved to the spare keyboard, fingers hovering as if they needed permission. Words are weapons and blankets; this morning they were net. I would catch what she couldn’t carry.
Leo stood behind Lena, a steady wall. “You know the route,” he said. “If anything smells wrong, you say ‘cradle’ and you walk away. No heroics.”
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