“I mean it. I’ve got contingency files. Two jump IDs. A stash in the freight port under the third terminal. I can be gone in under six hours.”
“You think they won’t trace that? If someone’s already watching your access logs?—”
“I’ve done it before.”
“That was years ago. She’s not a toddler anymore.”
That cuts deeper than I expect. I look away. “She made a friend. Last week.”
Drel sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “She’s finally building a life here.”
“Shecan’thave a normal life. Not with what’s in her blood. Not with how fast she’s changing. Her eyes, herstrength—she shattered a playground structure.”
He winces. “I read the report. Synthetic wood. But still…”
“She can’thideforever.”
“No,” he says, voice quiet. “But that doesn’t mean you should uproot her every time a shadow moves.”
I press my palms to the edge of his desk and breathe.
The steam in the room clings to my skin. Everything feelstoo close. Too loud.
“I’m running out of options, Drel.”
He looks at me for a long moment.
Then: “Maybe you’re not supposed to run anymore.”
I lift my head. Meet his eyes.
“You’re saying I should trust him.”
“I’m saying you should stop pretending he’s the only one who’s changed.”
Later that night, I sit at the edge of Nessa’s bed, stroking her hair back from her forehead. She mumbles in her sleep,clutching her raptor plush. The bio-reg jacket hums faintly, dampening her vitals. A soft amber glow pulses at the hem.
I watch her for a long time.
Longer than I should.
She’s beautiful. Terrifying. Mine.
I could run. We’d survive.
But she’d lose everything. Again.
And he… he’shere.
That used to be the danger. Now, maybe it’s the anchor.
Maybe Drel’s right.
Maybe it’s time to stop running.
But if I stay—reallystay—I need to be ready for what that costs.
And gods help me, I’m not sure I can pay it.
