Ava had been numb for too long. Going through the motions, following the rules, eating her meals and sleeping in her nest and allowing the bare minimum of physical contact. There was no fire in it. No spark. Just hollow compliance.
I missed her spark. I set down my book and stood, stretching deliberately, letting her see the movement. Her eyes flicked to me immediately, wary, watchful, before darting away. Through the bond, I felt her tension spike.
"I'm bored," I announced, my voice carrying across the room, loud enough for everyone to hear. Mason looked up from his laptop. Caleb, standing sentinel by the window as always, turned his ice-blue gaze toward me. "Let's play a game."
"A game," Ava repeated flatly, her voice dripping with disdain, her green eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"Yeah, a game. You know—fun? Entertainment? That thing people do when they're not sitting around glaring at each other?" I crossed the room toward her, watching her tense with every step I took. "Come on, Red. You used to love games."
"Don't call me that," Ava snapped, her jaw tightening, her hands clenching in her lap.
"What, Red? But it suits you," I said, dropping onto the couch beside her, not touching, but close enough that she could feel the heat of my body. "All that gorgeous hair. All that fire."
"I said don't call me that," Ava repeated, her voice hard as steel, her green eyes blazing with familiar fury.
There it was. There was the spark.
"Fine, fine. Ava, then," I conceded, holding up my hands in mock surrender, my gray eyes dancing with amusement. "Ava, would you like to play a game with me?"
"No," Ava refused immediately, the word sharp and final.
"You don't even know what game I'm suggesting," I pointed out, letting a hint of wounded feelings creep into my voice, my lower lip pushing out in an exaggerated pout.
"I don't care. The answer is no," Ava said, turning her face away from me, her red hair falling like a curtain between us.
"What if I said the winner gets a prize?" I offered, leaning closer, dropping my voice to something intimate and conspiratorial.
"I don't want anything you could give me," Ava replied coldly, her shoulders rigid with tension.
"Not even information?" I asked, watching her carefully, noting the way her breath caught, the slight hitch in her heartbeat that I could feel through the bond.
Slowly, she turned back to face me, her green eyes guarded but curious. "What kind of information?"
"Anything you want to know," I said, spreading my hands wide, my smile turning sharp. "Ask me any question, and I'll answer honestly. No evasions, no half-truths. Complete transparency."
"And if I lose?" Ava asked, her voice wary, her eyes searching my face for the trap she knew was there.
"Then you answer one of my questions," I replied simply, my gray eyes holding hers. "Same rules. Complete honesty." Ava was silent for a long moment, clearly weighing her options. Through the bond, I felt her mind working, calculating risks, considering possibilities. She wanted information. Wanted to understand us, to find our weaknesses, to look for cracks she could exploit.
"What's the game?" Ava asked finally, her voice careful and measured.
"Two truths and a lie," I said, my smile widening, satisfaction purring through my chest. "I tell you three things about myself. You guess which one is the lie. If you're right, you win. If you're wrong, I win."
"That's not fair. You could say anything," Ava protested, her brow furrowing with suspicion. "I have no way of knowing what's true about you."
"You have the bond," I pointed out, tapping my chest where I could feel her presence humming alongside my own heartbeat. "Pay attention to what you feel. The bond doesn't lie, even when I do."
Ava's eyes widened slightly, something clicking behind them. I could practically see the gears turning, the realization that the bond could be a tool, not just a cage. That she could use it to read us, just like we used it to read her.
"One round," Ava agreed, her chin lifting with determination. "One round, and then I'm done."
"Deal," I said, extending my hand for her to shake. She stared at my hand for a long moment, her lip curling with distaste. She took it, a brief, firm grip that sent electricity crackling through my veins. God, even that tiny contact was enough to make my heart race.
"Okay," I said, settling back against the couch, arranging my features into something neutral. "Here are my three statements. One: I was expelled from two different prep schools before I turned sixteen. Two: I once broke a man's arm for looking at you too long. Three: I've never been in love before you."
Ava's eyes narrowed, studying my face with intense concentration. I felt her reaching through the bond, tentatively probing, trying to sense the truth beneath my words. I let her feel what I was feeling. The amusement. The anticipation. The deep, abiding love that had lived in my chest for over a decade.
"The schools," Ava said finally, her voice uncertain. "That's the lie. You seem too... controlled to have been expelled."
