I swallow hard, my throat aching. My fingers tighten around the blanket until my knuckles ache. “Someone was there,” I manage, voice thin. “He… he texted me first. Said things about my mum. About me. Like he could see me. And then—”
My eyes sting, but I force myself to keep going. “He followed me. I ran. Through the field. I thought maybe I could get here before he caught me.”
Kai’s expression doesn’t change much. Still calm, still hard to read. But his jaw shifts, the faintest tick of muscle.
“He grabbed me,” I say, my voice dropping lower. “Dragged me down. I thought—I thought I was going to—”
The air catches in my chest. For a second, I can’t finish the sentence. I don’t want to.
Kai leans back then, studying me through the firelight. His gaze flicks down, then back up. “But you didn’t,” he says. His tone is softer this time, quieter. “You’re here.”
I blink at him, heat rising unbidden to my face.
“Addie,” he says after a beat, voice gentler but still edged. “Did you see anything? Anything that could tell me who he was?”
Brown eyes flash in my memory. Brown eyes behind a mask.
“I…” I hesitate, shaking my head slowly. “Just his eyes. They were brown.”
Kai tilts his head, like he’s weighing the answer. “Brown eyes,” he repeats softly.
Then his mouth curves, the faintest, most unreadable smile. “Narrowing it down.”
I give him the smallest smile I can manage, then drop my gaze to the blanket pooled in my lap. My fingers pick at a loose thread, anything to avoid his eyes.
But a single finger hooks under my chin, gentle but firm, tipping my face back up until I’m forced to meet his.
“You’re really brave, you know,” he says softly.
I shake my head, just barely, and nod instead because it’s easier. Easier than arguing, easier than admitting I don’t believe it.
He notices. Of course he does.
“What?” His smile widens a fraction, something almost playful in it. “You don’t think so?”
A sigh slips out of me before I can stop it. “I don’t know.”
His thumb lingers for a moment before he lets go. “You ran barefoot, bleeding, half-dead, and you made it here. Most people wouldn’t have.”
“That doesn’t make me brave,” I mutter. “It makes me desperate.”
Kai’s mouth quirks, not quite a smile. “Sometimes they’re the same thing.”
I let out a soft laugh, though it comes out bitter around the edges. “That’s depressing.”
“Or realistic,” he counters smoothly.
I nod faintly, pulling the blanket tighter around me. “Yeah. Desperate. That part I can agree with.”
Kai studies me, eyes glinting in the firelight. “Desperate, sure,” he says, almost thoughtful. “But you’re also selfless. Too selfless, actually. Always thinking about everyone else first. And you’re kind. Genuinely kind. Do you know how rare that is?”
I stare at him, stunned into silence.
“If someone can’t see the power in a soft heart,” Kai says, his voice quiet but sure, “then they’ve misunderstood strength entirely. If someone can’t recognize that, then they’re not seeing clearly. And that’s not your flaw, Adeline. It’s theirs.”
The fire pops, a sharp crack that echoes in the silence. Still, he doesn’t look away.
“It’s a small, sad thing,” he adds, “to only value what’s loud or obvious. If they dismiss you for not acting the way they expect, that’s not a reflection of you, it’s a limit in them.”
