Zeth exhales down his nose, nodding sharply. “Fucking stupid idea,” he says under his breath. I think it’s a fucking stupid idea, too, but then again we’re bang out of options. “Just make sure you get through this, all right?” Zeth tells me under his breath.

I raise an eyebrow at him, feeling slightly victorious. “Why? Are you worried?” I tease him, even though I shouldn’t. He gives me a flat look out of the corner of his eye.

“Am I worried?” He laughs softly, and it’s not a humorous laugh; it’s a pained one. “I’m fucking shitting myself, Sloane. There’s no reason why this bitch won’t just arrest you and use you as leverage. She’s smart. She knows if she has you, she’ll have a huge bargaining chip.”

“Yes, but it’s not like you’re stupid. You wouldn’t just go charging down there on a rescue mission. You wouldn’t just hand yourself over if she did that. It would be pointless, her just arresting me.” Silence falls over the car, and my heartbeat thrums in my ears. Zeth clenches his jaw again and a sick sensation washes over me. “Zeth? You wouldn’t do that,” I say.

He doesn’t flinch. “Wouldn’t I?”

I swivel around, wrestling against the seatbelt so I can face him. “No, you would not. I seriously doubt Lowell’s going to pull anything like that. She knows she’ll never get Rebel if she does. Either way, if things get messy, you and Michael must go and find Lacey. That’s what you do. You do not hand yourself over just to free me. I can handle a couple of nights in a cell. She can’t realistically keep me any longer than that.” Zeth makes a choking sound in the back of his throat; I ball up my hand into a fist and pound it against his arm. “What, you don’t think I can handle a few nights in a jail cell? I can. I will if I have to.”

Zeth reaches up and removes the aviators so he can look me in the eye. I can see the anger he’s battling to tamp down inside himself. “You will never need to spend the night in a cell on my account, Sloane. Never. I’ll die before I let that happen.” He blows out a frustrated breath and goes back to glaring out the window. My stomach churns like it’s filled with battery acid. I feel a little stupid. Zeth spent time in prison. He spent countless nights in a cell, probably locked up with a complete psycho, with nothing but time on his hands and no way out. He knows what it means to be shut away from the world, how awful it must be, and here’s me making light of it. Making out like I could hack it, when I honestly doubt I could.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Zeth doesn’t say anything for a moment. He drives, eyes forward, tattooed forearms corded with rigid muscle. And then he takes a breath and says something that breaks my heart. “I want to make you happy, Sloane. I want to keep you safe. This life isn’t what you deserve. Risking your freedom to find my sister and help Rebel—that isn’t something you should ever have to consider doing. So yeah, if Lowell does arrest you, the very first fucking thing I’m gonna do is hand myself over. Rebel, too. I’ll hand over anyone she fucking wants in a motherfucking heartbeat. Because there is no way I’m going to allow you to be put in danger or discomfort, to be locked up with hookers and crack addicts, if there’s a single thing within my power I can do to prevent it. Not for one minute, Sloane. Not for one fucking second.”

I don’t really know what to say to that. It’s madness he would do that, but that’s not the reason I’m stunned. I’m stunned because of the passion in his voice. The determination in his eyes. He’s never spoken to me like that before. I want to make you happy, Sloane. I want to keep you safe.

It doesn’t matter that I’ve told him I love him and he hasn’t said it back. This matters. This statement right here is all I need to hear to know I haven’t been absolutely crazy in believing in him this whole time. I would never have dreamed those words would come out of his mouth a month and a half ago. I wouldn’t have even been able to imagine it. But there’s a soft side to Zeth he’s finally showing to me, and every time I catch a glimpse of it, I feel myself falling harder.

The aviators have remained on the dash where Zeth placed them. He gives me a glance out of the corner of his eye, and a small, cautious smile forms on his lips. “Tell me you can handle this,” he says. “’Cause I need to hear you say it.”

“Lowell?” I ask, even though I know that’s not what he’s referring to. He blinks at me, the beginnings of his smile fading. I reach over and take his right hand from the steering wheel, holding it in my own. It’s a brave move—we’ve not really gotten to stage yet where we’re very tactile with one another outside of sex. I’m ready to be, though. I want to be. I don’t know how he feels about being touchy feely—until he laces his fingers through mine and holds onto my hand tightly. Relief surges through me. Everything, every small little action, every carefully thought-out word feels like an experiment right now. An experiment that could either be gloriously successful or blow up in my face. “I can handle this,” I say, making sure to look him right in the eye. “I can and I will take whatever you throw at me, Zeth. I’m stronger than I look.”

He shakes his head slightly, another small, barely there smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. He looks straight at me, like he’s looking into me, and then does something that makes my heart sing. He lifts our hands to his mouth and lays a gentle kiss on my wrist. “It doesn’t matter what you look like, Sloane. You’re the strongest person I know.”