Ronan slept, finally, sometime near dawn, exhaustion overtaking whatever fear had kept him upright through the worst of the night. I stayed beside him a while, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest like it might stop if I looked away, before restlessness finally drove me back toward the reinforced room where the black motorcycle still sat, gleaming and silent, exactly where it had been left.
I approached it slowly, remembering Ronan's warning, remembering my own promise to be careful. But something about the empty machine pulled at me regardless, some instinct insisting there was more to learn from it than the single, failed attempt at touch had revealed.
I pressed my palm flat against the tank again, bracing for nothing, the way I had the first time.
This time, something answe
