Chapter 16: The Breakfast interrogation
The kitchen was a crime scene from a cheerful burglary. Empty coffee mugs dotted every surface, a pizza box lay open on the small table like a greasy wing, and a floor lamp was knocked over in the corner, its shade tilted at a drunken angle. Morning light, sharp and clean after the storm, cut through the window and illuminated floating dust motes and a discarded sock.
Liam stood at the stove, a spatula in hand, focusing on the sizzle of batter in the pan with the intensity of a lab technician. It was a sanctuary. The ritual of cracking eggs, measuring flour, watching bubbles form and pop. It gave him an excuse to stay quiet, to let the seismic shift inside him settle.
Cass was a soft, warm presence leaning against the counter next to him, wearing only his old hoodie. It drowned her, the sleeves covering her hands. She was staring into a steaming mug as if reading tea leaves. The high, bright energy she carried in public was banked to a quiet ember.
Maya, meanwhile, was a tornado in pastel loungewear. She’d commandeered the small kitchen table, feet tucked under her, systematically destroying a stack of pancakes. Her eyes, sharp and missing nothing, flicked between them.
“So,” Maya said around a mouthful of syrup-drenched pancake. “Let’s do the debrief. Condition of the vehicle?”
Cass didn’t look up. “It started after we jumped it. It’s a temperamental old bastard.”
“Uh-huh. And the structural integrity of the dwelling?” Maya’s gaze slid to the repaired floor lamp.
“A minor tremor,” Liam said, not turning from the stove. “Nothing the building codes couldn’t handle.”
He felt Cass hide a smile in her mug.
Maya pointed her fork at Liam’s back. “See, that’s what I’m talking about. ‘Minor tremor.’ You talk like a professor writing up a lab report on an earthquake. I was outside for twenty minutes. I heard the aftershocks. Distinct, rhythmic aftershocks. Through a brick wall and a blizzard.”
Liam flipped a pancake. It was a perfect, golden disc. A small, manageable victory. “Old building. Poor insulation. Acoustics are weird.”
“The acoustics,” Maya repeated flatly. She looked at Cass. “He’s cute when he’s being obscenely vague. Also, your neck looks like you lost a fight with a very enthusiastic vacuum cleaner.”
Cass’s hand flew to the side of her throat instinctively, then dropped, a faint blush rising on her cheeks. She took a slow sip of coffee. “Mind your business, Maya.”
“This is my business. I’m your best friend. I’m also the one who had to stand in a snowdrift listening to what sounded like a very enthusiastic furniture assembly.” She leaned forward, elbows on the table. “All I’m saying is, for a ‘minor tremor,’ there was a lot of consistent, pounding… seismic activity. Followed by a very distinct civic alarm. A male civic alarm.”
Liam plated the last pancake and turned off the burner. The silence stretched, filled only by the drip of the coffee maker. He carried two plates to the table, setting one in front of Cass, who finally looked up and met his eyes. Hers were glittering with shared, private amusement.
He sat down, the wooden chair creaking under his weight. He could feel the faint, pleasant burn in his lower back, the memory of her nails. He poured syrup, took a bite. It was good. Normal.
“The civic alarm was due to a structural surprise,” Liam said finally, his tone conversational. “The fault line was more reactive than initially surveyed. Required a… more hands-on approach to stabilization.”
Cass coughed, a laugh disguised as a choke. She kicked his shin gently under the table.
Maya looked back and forth between them, her expression a mix of exasperation and deep appreciation. “A hands-on approach. To stabilization. God, you’re impossible.” She pointed her fork at Cass. “And you! You’re just sitting there, glowing. You’re practically vibrating at a different frequency. Don’t think I don’t see it.”
“I’m well-stabilized,” Cass said, her voice low and smooth. She cut a tiny piece of pancake. “Thoroughly assessed. All major systems are functional and reporting optimal status.”
Maya threw her hands up. “Fine! Be cryptic. But the rumor mill on the squad is going to have a field day.