Every pause makes me wonder what my daughter sounds like when she cries.
I waituntil lights dim in her sector.
Officially, I'm not supposed to be out of quarters after curfew.
But I’m past giving a damn.
Her door isn’t locked.
She knows I’m coming.
I step inside. Quiet.
She’s sitting at the edge of her bed, still fully dressed, hands in her lap like a soldier waiting for judgment.
She doesn’t flinch.
Doesn’t scream.
Just meets my eyes and says, voice hoarse, “So. You know.”
I close the door behind me.
The click is soft. Final.
I don’t move closer. Not yet.
“Why?”
She swallows. “You were dead, Vael.”
“YouknewI wasn’t.”
“Not at first.”
“But later.”
She doesn’t answer.
I cross the room in three strides.
“Ideservedto know.”
“And what would you have done? Hunted me down? Dragged us back to Vakutan high command?”
“She’smine.”
“She’sours,” Rynn hisses, standing.
Her eyes are glassy with unshed tears. “You think I didn’t want to tell you? You think I didn’t—every day—wonder if I’d made the wrong choice?”
“Youdid.”
She slaps me.
It’s not hard. Not really.
But it lands like a thunderclap.
