“Are we in the Southwest?” That’s where he’s going to take me, right? Back to Misery and Lowe. “Still Northwest. We stopped at one of our safe houses.” Lazily, I paw at Koen’s shoulder and stretch in his arms. “I can walk.” “Me too. Wanna start a club?” “Can I be president?” “Treasurer at most.” “No deal.” I yawn into the spot at the base of his neck, which causes his grip to falter first and then tighten. “Seriously, you can let go of me.”
