The question clearly caught her off guard, her eyes twitching toward the door as if she expected someone to barge in for an ambush. She remained silent for an awkward amount of time.
“I’ve had better days—a better life.”
“You’ve really turned this place into a home,” Martin said, looking around. “I think about you often . . . not just our romance, but just in general, and hope that you’re okay.”
Sonya rolled her eyes.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought back on our time together,” Martin said, forcing a coy grin.
“Martin, I don’t know how many times I need to tell you, what we had was nothing of significance. I ran through that same routine with plenty of other recruits before you. I was just doing my job—you’re the one who can’t let that go.”
“Was it your job to get that medicine for my mom? Or to come cry at the hospital after my accident?”
“Just because you were a mission doesn’t mean I have no soul. I lived with your mother—that was part of the job. I grew fond of her and didn’t want to hear of her pain if there was something I could do to help.”
“How kind of you. Do you ever miss your old life? You had it made when you were a Road Runner, back when you had a truce with Chris to leave you alone. I don’t understand your change of heart. You used to threaten him you’d kill yourself if he tried to interfere with your life.”
“Only until you tried to kill me. I may be on the run from both Chris and the Road Runners, but it was the Road Runners who made me run in the first place.”
“Why did you pick the Great Depression to hide?” Martin asked. “Seems like you could have gone anywhere.”
“It’s easy to hide here—people are so down on themselves that they don’t pay attention to the world around them. Enough with the interrogation. The real question is, how did you find me?”
“I made a vow to bring an end to this war, and that’s what I plan to do. You know we have the best talent around; finding you was by no means an impossible task.”
Sonya’s grip tightened on the shotgun, and Martin thought for sure she was done with this conversation—and his life. But she never pulled the trigger, instead shaking her head as a lone tear rolled down her face.
“What’s wrong?” Martin asked, wanting to reach out and grab her hand for comfort, but was terrified of making any sudden movements.
Sonya shrugged, leaning back, keeping that tight grip on the shotgun. “It’s like I’ve reached a dead end. I’ve worked so hard to scout locations and find somewhere to live in peace. But here you are. All I’ve wanted since I ran was to be left alone, but I have to call and check in with Chris every week to let him know I’m still alive and breathing. Like I’m his fucking life support. That call is planned for later tonight, by the way—maybe you want to hang around and say hello so you can both have a good laugh about me.”
“Sonya, that’s just not true, and you know it.”
“Then why are you here?!” she snapped, freeing a hand and slamming a fist on the table. “Both of you have been harassing me and I’m so sick of it. I’m trapped in this apartment all day every day, can’t even go out for a walk in the park because I have to constantly look over my shoulder—even when I know I should be safe, which I’m clearly not if you found me so easily. I don’t doubt Chris has eyes on me too. Time travel has ruined my life. The Road Runners once brought me joy and purpose after my dad completely fucked my life, but ever since Strike decided my life was worth the cost of killing Chris, I’ve had a hard time finding the will to live.”
“That’s a funny thing to say, considering how far you’ve made it surviving.”
“Surviving and living are two different things, you should know that. All those years you wasted after Izzy died and your divorce, drinking and drugs every night . . . that’s not living.”
“Fair, but it’s really not surviving, either. You could say I was trying to kill myself with all of that. I only went to work so I didn’t have to live on the street. I’d go right back home, no friends, no family aside from my mom, and trap myself in my apartment.” Martin looked around with a grin. “I guess we’re not that different after all.”
Sonya nodded, removing her hat and dropping it on the table, running a hand through her hair. “I suppose we’re not. I’ve definitely had suicidal thoughts since this all started, but those have dated back to childhood. Watching my mother get murdered then tossed away like a piece of trash screwed me up from the start. I’ve had time to reflect on my life—really all there is to do when you’re trapped inside—and that’s definitely what formed all of my trust issues with the universe. It’s funny, even when I lived in the future in Chris’s penthouse suite, I still had these dark thoughts creep in. The unlimited shopping sprees, fancy dinners, dates with the most handsome men Chris knew. It was all designed to give me a sort of superficial pleasure. But people don’t understand that the simple ability to do as you please, live wherever you want with whoever you want—that’s the real wealth.”
Martin nodded, pleased to have Sonya pouring out her heart. He hoped to flip that vulnerability around and use it for good. “Look, Sonya, I want to end this war. I want Chris dead and dismembered. And I want to achieve all of that without harming you. I didn’t come here to kill you—I came to reach out a hand and bring you back to the Road Runners. I can protect you,
