The evening had turned unexpectedly gentle, work on the traitor investigation set aside for a few hours by mutual, unspoken agreement, and Callum found himself sitting on the back porch with Wren while the last light faded over the ridge, a bottle of wine between them that neither of them had touched much, more interested in the conversation than the drink.
"Can I ask you something that isn't about the Circle, or the bond, or any of the danger we've been living inside for the past month," Wren said, tucking her knees up under her on the porch swing, something easy in her posture that Callum had come to treasure over the past weeks, a rare unguarded softness he knew he'd played some part in earning back.
"Anything."
"What do you actually want. Not what duty requires of you, not what prot
