She nods slowly. Sets down her tea.
"I need to call my dad," she says. "And Ben. They think I'm dead or worse. The program's been looking for me."
The mention of Ben makes something ugly twist in my chest, but I push it down. "Your phone's in your room. Dorian had it charging."
"Will you... be nearby? While I make the calls?" Her voice is small. Uncertain. "Not listening, just... in case."
The request surprises me. "Yeah. Of course."
She slides off the stool. Pauses at the kitchen entrance.
"Oakley?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For the bandage." She looks down at her wrapped hand. "And for not lying to me just now. I don't forgive you. Don't think I can. But I appreciate the honesty."
Then she's gone, bare feet padding up the stairs.
I stay in the kitchen. Make more coffee I don't want. Try to process what just happened.
She doesn't forgive me.
She probably never will.
And somehow, her honesty about that hurts more than if she'd screamed at me. Because it means she sees me clearly now too. Not the gentle alpha who's different from the others. Not the healer who can make this better.
Just another guy who helped ruin her life because biology told him he could.
Anhourlater,I'msitting outside her door when I hear her crying.
Not the angry sobs from before. This is worse. This is grief. The sound of someone who's had to explain to people who love her why she can't come home. Why she has to stay with the people who took her.
I knock softly. "Vespera?"
"Yeah?" Her voice is wrecked.
"Can I come in?"
Silence. Then: "Okay."
She's on the bed, phone clutched in her hand, face streaked with tears. She looks destroyed.
"Bad?" I ask quietly.
"Yeah."
I sit on the edge of the bed, not touching her but close enough. "You talked to your dad?"
"Yeah."
"And?"
"And I told him the truth. About the fated bond. About the rejection killing me. About why I can't leave."
I go very still. "What did he say?"
"That he wants to burn your world down. But he'll wait. Let me figure this out. Because taking me away will kill me faster than staying here."
