James turned to me, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion. “What do you mean?”
I groaned in frustration. “It’s a simple question. Who healed me? Who woke me up? Was it Julian?”
He took a step closer, his eyes locking onto mine. “What?” His tone was biting. “Of course not.”
“Then how am I awake?” I asked, while I tried to keep my voice from rising with frustration. “Because I talked to Justine, and she told me she has no idea how I came by. But she did mention a fewinterestingdetails about the night before. Like you and Julian requesting the room for yourselves?”
James’s face remained unreadable, but there was a flicker in his expression, something guarded. “We did. We simply wanted to make sure everything was okay since we’d left the room, but I have no idea how you woke up, Emma.”
I studied him closely. Was he lying?
“I don’t believe you,” I said, taking a step toward him, the distrust gnawing at me.
James’s eyes softened as he stepped forward too. “Sweetheart, I promise you—I have no idea how you survived the Amplifier. No idea how you came out that coma. And no idea how your translation went from hardly existing to all-powerful.”
My heart stuttered. Those were very specific responses to questions I hadn’t even asked yet. My mind whirled, but deep down… I had no reason to distrust him. Did I?
“Swear to me,” I demanded, my entire body almost trembling, while my hands were clenched into fists at my sides.
James’s frown deepened. “What?”
“Swear to me you don’t know any of those answers,” I insisted. Gods, my pulse was racing as I stared at him, searching his face for any hint of deception.
His eyes flickered with hurt for a second, before the hardness in his features softened. “You don’t trust me?” His words quieter now, but there was a raw edge to them.
“I do, but?—”
“There shouldn’t be a ‘but’ when it comes to trust,” he interrupted, his tone more cutting than I’d expected. He took a step back, running a hand through his hair as frustration rippled through him. “Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me, Emma? Have I done anything to make you distrust me?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but the words caught in my throat. “No, but?—”
“There’s that ‘but’ again,” he said, cutting me off, his whole presence radiating exasperation. He crossed the room, and when he neared the edge of the coffee table, his hands braced himself against it as he turned back to me. “I’ve stood by you, fought for you, and you’re still questioning me?”
The viciousness of his words hit me, and my chest tightened. I could see the pain I caused him, mixed with frustration and something deeper—something making me scared like I was losing him, like the ground between us was crumbling.
But underneath the panic, something else stirred. A small sliver of defiance.
Yes, he’d stood by me. But so had I. I wasn’t some clueless bystander in this relationship—I’d fought just as hard. Bleeding, breaking, putting myself on the line every step of the way. If I was questioning things, maybe it was because I deserved answers—not because I was paranoid.
He sighed deeply, fingers dragging through his hair again. “You have no reason to be this paranoid. A relationship doesn’t work if there’s no trust, Emma.”
Panic flared inside me. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? Was he questioningusnow?
He looked at me again, and though his voice was softer now—almost a whisper—the intensity behind it made my heart race. “So the question is… do you trust me?”
I swallowed, throat tight. My instinct was to nod, to say what he needed to hear. And I did—but slower this time. “Yes,” I said, more grounded now. “I do. But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop asking questions when things don’t make sense.”
“You’re questioningme,Emma. And that shit hurts.”
I held his gaze, unflinching even as my chest ached. “Then talk to me. Give me something—anything—to believe in.”
He was quiet for a long moment. Then, finally, he said, “I’m trying. But I’m carrying things I’m not always allowed to share. It’s not about keeping you out—it’s about me protecting the people I’ve sworn to lead.”
I let out a shaky breath, working to calm the frustration rising in my chest. I had to remind myself—he wasn’t just James, he was the Leader-to-be of the entire Collective. Carrying classified information came with the role. And just because he couldn’t tell me everything didn’t mean he was hiding something about me or my translation.
“I know…” I rubbed my hands down my face. “But it’s still frustrating—being told there are things I’m not allowed to know.”
I paused, then muttered with a scowl, “Especially when I’ve built my whole personality around knowing everything.”
