Five
Ryann eased herself from her chair, joining Brice on the wall.
She could tell he was scared. He wouldn’t admit that, even to himself, but the signs were there—dilated pupils, the flickering movements of his face, the way his fingers twitched when he talked. And, of course, there was his anger. She felt it rolling off him, but it was undirected. He was searching for a reason, for something to be angry at. And that was unhealthy.
Cathal sussed.
She met Brice’s eyes and tilted her head to the open door. He nodded and climbed smoothly. Of course he did. Physicality was his speciality. If she could keep him moving, he’d stay calm.
In the cabin, she reached up to seal the door, but Brice put his own hand in the way, cupping the sensor without triggering it.
“Can we leave the door op
