Page 159 of The ARC Unit: Breach

“Still naked under here,” I said before I could decide whether that was a sentence I wanted to say aloud at three in the morning.

Wolf’s eyes returned to mine.

“I know.”

He opened the door.

I stood there for a second before following him into the hallway barefoot.

The corridor had dried enough that there was no standing water, although my belongings still occupied one side in bins and damp heaps. The damaged room was dark behind the open door. Bear had left an industrial fan near the entrance but had not powered it with the circuit isolated.

Wolf didn’t even bother to look at the mess as we passed.

The balcony door sat at the far end of the hall. He opened it and cold night air hit my bare legs hard enough that I immediately folded my arms across my chest.

“Fuck.”

Wolf stepped outside. “You wanted the balcony.”

“I forgot Germany hates joy.”

He gave me a look over his shoulder and moved toward the railing. I followed because turning around now would have felt like admitting defeat to weather.

The compound beyond us was almost completely dark. Security lights washed the nearest section of fence in pale white while the forest disappeared beyond it. Rain earlier in the evening had left the air wet and sharp, carrying the smell of pine and cold concrete across the balcony.

Wolf leaned against the railing and pulled the mask above his mouth. His lips came back into view with the dark stubble along his chin and the section of scar I had spent half the previous morning pretending not to study. Cold air stung my legs and arms, yet my attention kept returning to his uncovered mouth.

He put a cigarette between his lips and flicked the lighter.

The flame briefly caught the uncovered lower half of his face. I saw the hard line of his jaw and the jagged scar pulling faintly toward the left side before the lighter snapped shut and darkness took most of it back.

Wolf inhaled deeply.

His shoulders lowered a fraction on the exhale. I sat in the metal chair near the wall and immediately regretted letting bare thighs touch it.

“Jesus Christ.”

Wolf looked over. “Go inside, Mercer.”

“No.”

“You’re freezing.”

“I’m committed now.”

He turned back toward the trees.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

The silence felt different from the ones we usually shared. Wolf was normally quiet because he liked control over what entered a room but tonight, he seemed to be using the silence to get something back under his hands.

I watched smoke leave his mouth and disappear over the railing.

“Does that happen often?”

His jaw tightened.

“You don’t have to answer.”