The storm had eased, but the night still breathed with damp and wind.

Inside the shed, the air smelled of rust and old oil. The only light came from a flickering lantern Hale had found in a storage box.

Evelyn watched him as he sat on the floor, unwrapping the makeshift bandage from his shoulder. The wound was raw, but he moved with the quiet efficiency of someone who’d patched himself up too many times before.

She finally said, “You shouldn’t have come after me.”

He gave a dry ...