Chapter 9: Keir's POV

Keir's POV

I slept four hours in a chair, and woke up without pain.

I lay there in the dark of the control truck with my eyes open, afraid to move.

For six years I had woken up to it.

There was a burn in my back and a crawl in my hands, and a hot wire under every inch of scar.

This morning there was nothing.

I held my right hand up in front of my face and peeled the glove off, slowly.

Nothing. Not even a twinge.

It would come back by noon. I knew that. I had been told it would come back.

But I sat on the cot and shook, and it was not from the cold.

I had left her cabin at three in the morning, because if I had stayed one more minute I would have broken every rule I'd ever set myself.

I had let her lay her cheek in my palm.

I had not told her that it was the best thing that had happened to me since the fire.

I pulled my glove back on.

The truck's monitors were all lit again, forty screens in rows, one for every camera on the ridge.

Ben's voice was on the speaker, short and sharp.

"Boss. You need to see camera seven."

I watched it twice.

Tiffany Brantley sat on a cot in her tent at six in the morning, in a white parka, with a green thermos between her knees.

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