“Fair point.”
She hesitates another moment, then crosses to the table and sits down across from me. As far away as the small table allows, but she’s here. She’s sitting.
It’s more than I expected.
She looks at the plate, then at me. “You cooked again.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because you need to eat.”
She picks up her fork, still watching me like I might lunge across the table at any moment. I don’t blame her. After everything I’ve done, I wouldn’t trust me either.
The meal is quiet. The tension is thick. She focuses on her food, not looking at me. I focus on her, cataloging every detail.
She’s wearing the same clothes from yesterday, wrinkled from sleep. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, thick curls tumbling everywhere. There are shadows under her eyes, evidence of a rough night.
I did that. I put those shadows there.
She eats quickly, mechanically, and I can see her planning her escape. Finish the food, say something polite, retreat to her room. Another day of avoiding me, another day of this endless standoff.
I can’t let that happen.
“Imani.”
She freezes, fork halfway to her mouth.
“Can I—“ The words stick in my throat. I force them out. “Can I ask you something?”
She sets the fork down slowly. “Depends on the question.”
“It’s not—“ I blow out a breath. “I’m not trying to interrogate you. I just...” I trail off, not sure how to say what I need to say.
She waits, her expression guarded.
“I know I don’t deserve your time,” I finally manage. “After everything I’ve done. But I’d like to try. To talk. Like normal people.”
“Normal people don’t rip car doors off hinges.”
“No. They don’t.”
She doesn’t say anything. Just looks at me, weighing her options, trying to decide if this is a trap.
“You first,” she says finally.
I blink. “What?”
“You want to talk like normal people? Fine. But you go first. Tell me something real.”
Something real. She wants vulnerability. Honesty. The things my mother told me to give.
My eyes drop to my hands on the table. Large, scarred, capable of so much destruction. I think about all the things I could tell her. The mate bond. The cleaning solution. The real reason I can’t let her leave.
But that’s not what she’s asking for. She’s asking for me. The person underneath all the walls.
“What do you want to know?”
