Chapter Ten: The Blue Door

Tara sat on the edge of the thin mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling. Light creeped through the exposed holes and rafters. The hum of voices from the main room had dwindled. The air inside the warehouse was thick with night, with the weight of another day ending in Shade Territory.

Her mind reeled with everything that had happened. The bounty. The DNHA. Landon. She ran a hand down her face. This was too much. She had barely been here less than three days, and already, she had too many questions, too many threats circling her.

Ballad had given her duties before the meeting had ended—things that would keep her useful.

"You can do odd jobs with Landon, but don't slack off. We all pull our weight here."

It was a test. Ballad wanted to see if she could survive here, if she could belong. But Tara wasn't stupid. The real leader here wasn't Ballad. It was Skye. No one outright said it, but she could feel it in the way they looked at him. His word was final. And he had let her stay. She wasn't sure if that made her safe—or just another problem waiting to be solved. 

Tara exhaled, rolling her shoulders. She couldn't dwell on that now. Tomorrow, they had to go to the DNHA facility. She needed to be ready. She moved to take off her boots when—A whisper of sound. Something slid under her door. Tara froze.

Slowly, she leaned down, picking up the scrap of paper. A message, hastily scrawled.

"Meet me in the westside of the warehouse, behind the blue door."

Her pulse quickened. She didn't need to guess who had sent it. Her fingers tightened around the note. Landon. 

Tara stood, her movements quiet as she slipped out the door. The warehouse was still, the others settling in for the night. She wove through the darkened hallways, her heart pounding harder the closer she got to the back. The blue door was chipped and weathered, its paint peeling. She hesitated. Then, taking a deep breath, she pushed it open. The space behind it was nearly pitch black, save for the faint, eerie glow from the city seeping in through the high windows. And standing there, waiting, was Landon.

Tara's breath hitched. The door clicked shut behind her. And then, before she could think, before she could stop herself—She ran to him. Landon caught her immediately. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her tight against him. Tara clenched her fists into the fabric of his jacket, burying her face in his shoulder.

He was warm. So warm. For a moment, she let herself sink into it. Let herself pretend they weren't in this cold, broken place. That everything was as it had been. But the truth hit her like a knife. Her fingers dug in.

"You disappeared, it was so long ago, but—" she whispered, voice cracking.

Landon shuddered.

"I'm here, now," he murmured.

Tara squeezed her eyes shut. That wasn't enough. She pulled back just enough to look at him. His green eyes burned. His hands lifted, brushing against her face, his thumb wiping away a tear she didn't realize had fallen.

"I'm so sorry about your parents," he whispered.

Tara flinched. 

Landon's jaw tightened. "I heard about it at my last job. I came back as soon as I got word of your name from the crew."

She stared at him, stunned.

"You came back for me?"

Landon's grip on her tightened.

"Of course I did. I ran half across the whole territory to get back to you." His voice was rough, desperate. "Tara, I—"

He exhaled sharply, pressing his forehead against hers.

"Whatever you need, I'm here."

Tara's chest ached. Landon pulled her closer.

"No more solo odd jobs," he murmured. "I'll be here for you. I'll make some excuses, so that no one notices, but from now on—I'm with you."

Tara's breath shuddered. Landon's hand moved to her hair, his fingers threading through it with a familiarity that made her throat close up. 

He pressed a kiss to her temple. It wasn't possessive. It wasn't demanding. It was soft, reverent. Like he had spent years holding onto this moment, never thinking he'd get it again. 

Tara swallowed hard. She didn't know what to say. Didn't know what to do. So she just let herself stay there. For a moment, just a moment, she let herself believe she wasn't alone.