Chapter 7: Rule One

Gabe did not move.

Nobody in the lab breathed, and Freja's pen rolled off her desk onto the floor.

"Outside," I said. "Not here. You're frightening the cereal data."

One of his men made a sound that he turned into a cough.

Gabe nodded once.

I put on my coat, told Freja I'd be ten minutes, and walked past him down the stairs.

He followed, alone.

He had told his men to stay in the hall, and I noticed.

The canal ran grey beside the road, with bicycles chained along the rail and a cold wind off the water.

Gabe stopped a step behind me.

"Show me your hand."

"It's healing."

"Show me."

I held it out, the bandage still white across my palm.

He took my fingers in both of his and turned my hand over to look at the dressing.

His thumb rested lightly on my wrist, on the pulse.

"Did a doctor see this?"

"A nurse. She said it would scar."

His face changed.

He didn't let go.

We started down the path along the water, and he still had my hand.

I realized it slowly.

In three years, Gabe had never once held my hand where anyone could see.

It was the first of his rules, the plainest one.

No holding hands in public.

A woman pushing a pram passed us, and then two men in cycling jackets.

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