Page 104 of Nyx

The sun is setting, casting the most beautiful color across the sky, and part of me hates Graham even more.

This is just one more thing he took from me.

I love sunsets, but standing outside or even in a window to watch them has seemed unsafe for years. I could picture someone waiting nearby with a gun, waiting for the chance to put a bullet in me. It didn't seem worth the risk, so I gave them up.

Nyx opens the passenger side door of the SUV, waiting for me to climb inside before closing the door and walking all the way around to the driver's side.

Graham would hold doors open for me if he thought he had an audience. He always had to look the part of the loving, helpful husband. When we were alone, it was a different story. I can't count the number of times he sat in the car, staring at me as I tried to open the locked door. He'd cackle like a toddler, his immature actions giving him a thrill.

One SUV pulls out of my apartment parking lot behind us, and another stays behind.

The ride to the clubhouse is spent in silence, despite the millions of things running through my head.

I open my mouth to apologize for putting him in an awkward position with the kiss a half dozen times, but I can never manage to get the words out.

The gate slowly opens, preventing us from having to come to a complete stop, and I watch it close in the side mirror, my heart somehow calming when I see it's back in place.

"I had heard about Cerberus before coming here the first time," I say, the first words spoken since leaving my apartment. "I wonder if I subconsciously ended up here because of that."

"Subconsciously?" he asks, a genuine hint of curiosity in his tone.

"I didn't even remember they existed until I pulled up at the gate and the guy there told me who he was associated with," I assure him. "How long have you worked for them?"

"Months, but I came from Tennessee recently. I've only been here a couple of weeks."

"I didn't know they had different groups," I say absently.

"There's a need for a lot more groups than what Cerberus can handle right now," he says.

I look in his direction, but he doesn't seem willing to offer any extra information. He has said a lot to me, it seems, but on further reflection, he mostly responds to questions or situations rather than holding actual conversations.

I don't grill him for information, and within a few minutes, we're in front of the clubhouse.

I wait once again when he pulls into the parking area, watching as he climbs out and walks around to open the door.

I avoid the hand he offers to help me out, not knowing what skin-on-skin contact with him would do to my head.

He doesn't seem agitated or annoyed. There's no sharp intake of breath or angry look on his face. I don't get the feeling that he's trying to form retaliation for the disrespect at all, and honestly, that raises more questions than it should.

My worry increases, and I know that it's trauma processing and has more to do with me and my history than with him.

He holds the front door open, allowing me to step inside. The big room is empty, but instead of being asked to wait, he ushers me right into the room where I had my interview.

"I'm so glad you're here," Diego says when we step inside.

I'm so distracted I don't realize Nyx has left the room until the door is closed.

I don't know how to feel about that, but I'm here for a reason.

"Mr... Anderson... Kincaid?" I say, shaking my head.

"You can call me Kincaid or Diego, whichever you prefer. The only time it would worry me is if you called me by my full government name." His smile is wide, and as much as I want to lean into that, I'm more than a little curious about why I've been summoned and why this conversation has to be held with him rather than letting Nyx relay the information.

"Please, have a seat," Misty's husband says. "Shadow," he reminds me with a smile just as quick as Kincaid's.

"Thank you, Shadow," I say as I sit down.

"You remember Max," Kincaid offers, waving his hand toward the man sitting at the computer in the corner.