I know.
I sip slowly. The taste is bitter. Stronger than I remember.
I don’t look at him when I speak.
“What were you, before?”
He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t hesitate.
“Assassin,” he says.
My throat tightens, but I nod.
“Coalition?”
He nods once.
“Enforcement?”
“Black mark division.”
Silence again.
I take another sip. Let it burn on the way down.
“Why’d you stop?” I ask.
He leans back, head resting against the cabinet. “One job too far. One kid too young. One mistake too big to forget.”
“Was it sanctioned?”
“They’re all sanctioned.”
The quiet stretches between us. Not empty. Just full of everything we don’t ask.
I feel his eyes on me, but I don’t meet them.
“You want to ask what I did,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “No. I don’t.”
I nod.
“I won’t ask either,” I say.
His mouth twitches. Almost a smile. “Thank you.”
We sit like that for a long time. The hum of the city outside filters through the cracked windows. Somewhere, a siren wails. Farther away, a train screeches on rusted tracks. But here, in this room, there’s just warmth between our hands and the soft sound of breath.
The weight in my chest doesn’t lift, but it settles.
Roja breaks the quiet, voice soft. “I’ll stay till morning. If you want.”
I nod.
He moves to the wall beside me, not touching, just near.
We sit in silence.
