Page 39 of Gunnar

Her hands flatten against the table, like she’s holding herself in place.

“I just need to know they’re okay,” she says, quieter. “That’s all.”

No one answers.

Orson looks away first.

Torin drags a hand over the back of his neck, restless, but he stays out of it.

I watch her.

She’s not letting this go.

If I shut it down, she’ll keep pushing. Or she’ll find another way around me.

Neither works.

I look past her toward the window, toward the trees beyond it. The same stretch of forest that’s kept us cut off from everything for years.

Behind me, I hear her draw a slow breath, like she’s about to say something else—something sharper.

I don’t let her.

“If something gets done,” I say, “it won’t be from here.”

The words land before I’ve fully decided to say them.

Orson’s head comes up. “No.”

I don’t look at him.

“It won’t be her,” I add.

Alexandria goes still.

Orson lets out a short, disbelieving breath. “You’re not serious.”

I meet his eyes now.

“Someone goes. They handle it. They come straight back.”

Orson studies me for a long second, then shakes his head. “That’s a full day out and back.”

“I know.”

“You’re opening us up for nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.”

He exhales, jaw working, then looks away again.

“Listen,” I say to Alexandria carefully. “Is there any reason why they’d be watching your friend?”

She’s quiet for a long time, staring at the wooden floorboards. I don’t interrupt. I sense the cogs of her brain turning over. She’s probably smarter than all of us put together.

“No,” she says at last. “We’re just workmates.”

“Okay. One of us can go talk to her. Explain what’s happening.”