LENA POV
Lena's mind had never raced so fast in her entire life. It raced through answers and their probabilities. So far, the chances she had considered, the probability that Rafe would fall for it, were 50/50.
She didn't need 50/50. She needed something concrete. Something solid that'll get Rafe to tell her what he knew.
Because what was happening now was a chance that had been served to her on a silver platter, held before her face, but oh, so out of her reach.
Rafe wasn't giving up any answers without her answering his.
He waited patiently, still staring down at her with an assessing look. His finger had stopped touching her—thank God—and he now had his hands in his pockets again. The picture of patience, indifference.
Her thoughts scrambled, but then a thought emerged—an an
