Nose wrinkled, Peri sipped at the cooling drink, levering herself out of the faded chair to nuke it in the microwave. Silas looked up from where he was kneeling over the coffee table with Howard. Styrofoam and plastic bags littered the floor, and Silas gave her a quick smile before Howard recaptured his attention with a request to hold something. The large man was clearly glad she’d relaxed enough to finally eat. She hadn’t let them stop except for gas and snacks on the drive back to Detroit, eager to get to a safe house—one that wasn’t tied to Opti or the alliance. Peri set the hot chocolate in the microwave, started it up, and waited beside the small efficiency sink while it spun. The bachelor apartment was a welcome spot of security. Even Opti didn’t know she had it, Peri having bought the entire building on her eighteenth birthday during the great exodus for five hundred bucks and a promise to renovate. Which she had. It was in someone else’s name and attached to an offshore bank account that paid expenses accrued.
