"We've moved on," she added, turning away.
The weight thunked down on my heart, heavy and familiar.
I'd fucked it up again.
I stood quickly—because that's what Danes do, apparently. We get back up. We keep moving. We don't let anyone see the cracks.
I grabbed my shirt off the floor, pulled it on, found my socks and boots. She disappeared into the bathroom, and I heard the shower turn on again.
By the time she came out, I was fully dressed, backpack slung over one shoulder, hand on the door handle.
She was dressed, too—jeans, a loose button-down, hair still damp and pulled into a knot at the base of her neck.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"My room," I said.
"No, you're not."
I turned, confused. "What?"
She crossed her arms, chin tilted up in that stubborn way I remembered too well.
"If you ever cared for me," she said slowly, "and if you want to make up for before—you're going to take me to Dominion Hall. Now."
I stared at her.
She stared back.
"You're serious," I said.
"Dead serious."
My mind raced. Take her to Dominion Hall. Introduce her to Charlie. Let her start asking questions about the Danes and their shady overseas dealings and whatever else she thought she'd uncovered.
It was reckless. Dangerous. Possibly the dumbest thing I could do.
"And if I say no?" I asked.
Her expression hardened. "Then you're exactly who I thought you were two years ago."
Fuck.
She knew how to hit where it hurt.
I thought about Charlie's grin. The black credit card. The vague promises of utilizing my talents. The way they'd known about Paris without me saying a word.
If they were Danes—if we were connected somehow—they'd played me.
And I didn't like being played.
"Fine," I said. "I'll take you."
Her shoulders relaxed slightly. "Good."
"But you need to understand something," I continued. "I don't know these people. I don't know what they're involved in. And if this goes sideways, I'm not your shield."
She stepped closer, eyes blazing. "I don't need a shield, Levi. I need the truth."
