I’d told him everything. For the first time in a month, I’d been honest—the spice run, forgetting the dragon scale for Kael, getting caught, Merrin’s deal. One month for the journals. .
I kept my voice low on purpose; the last thing I needed was anyone inside overhearing. Still, I didn’t look at Bren while I spoke. Couldn’t. Even hearing it out loud had made it feel impossible, like something I’d watched happen to someone else from far away. Not me.
He’d just sat there beside me, silent and still, like he was trying to absorb it all without breaking. And I kept going. I told him about my Threads, how I’d lost control on Ryven, nearly killed a girl. The duck. Talen. The tunnels, the truce, the kiss. The fucking dragon. The version of me I’d had to become just to stay alive.
I told him Ezzy and the others thought the relationship was real. That I wanted to keep it that way, that I didn’t want them to know I’d lied. That they’d be gone soon anyway.
By the time I stopped talking, the sun had dipped low, shadows stretching long across the alley, the air heavy with heat.
I watch Bren’s hands as he picks at the edge of his thumbnail. Small. Repetitive. Like he doesn’t notice he’s doing it. I haven’t seen that tic since we were kids. Then, quiet, so low I almost miss it.
“I kept waiting for someone to find your body.” He sighs.
It hits harder than I expected, my gut knots. I don’t say anything. Can’t.
Then he drags in a breath, slow and uneven. “We still have a lot to talk about. But right now? Right now, I’m just glad you’re here. Still breathing. I missed you. I thought you were—” He cuts off. Doesn’t need to finish.
Something gives in my chest. Not loud. Not clean. Just a crack, like a breath held too long.
“I missed you,” I say, and it’s the only part that feels easy. The rest—what it means, how deep it goes—I don’t know. Not really. I did miss him. His steadiness. His quiet. The way he always felt like the safe answer.
Bren shifts closer, knees brushing mine, and I feel it. That same quiet pull between us, familiar, impossible to forget.
Then his hand lifts to my jaw, calloused fingers gentle as they tilt my face toward him, and he kisses me.
For a heartbeat, I let him. The taste of him, the press of his soft mouth—it’s all memory and comfort, and then the doubt digs in, sharp and unshakable. But before I can second-guess what I’m doing?—
“Well,” a voice cuts in, dry as flint. “This is awkward.”
I jolt back from Bren, lungs lock up, heat still on my mouth as I scramble to my feet—too fast, too obvious—only to find Talenstanding dead centre in the alley. A package dangling from one hand, his white uniform spotless, his crooked grin polished to match.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“What are you doing here,Veirmont?” My voice comes out flat. Cold. No welcome in it.
Talen’s eyes flick to Bren, then back to me.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, voice low. “I leave you alone for five minutes and you’re already kissing someone else?”
Bren rises beside me, chest still lifting from the kiss as he steps to my side—shoulders squared, jaw set. God, compared to Talen, he looks like a boy. Not because he isn’t strong—he is. But Talen? He’s all control and carved edges. Precision and danger, wrapped in skin.
“Cut the crap, Talen,” I say, keeping my voice low, loud enough for him but quiet enough that the others inside won’t hear. “Bren knows the relationship’s fake. We’re not in the Citadel anymore. Not playing by your rules.”
Bren’s eyes narrow, and I can practically hear the pieces clicking into place, loud and unwelcome. “Veirmont? Talen? The spice tax family? You kissedhim?”
I shoot Bren a look—Not now. Please. I’ll explain later. Then I turn back to Talen. “How did you know I was here? What do you want?”
“Oh, please, Bloom. I’m a senior officer at the Citadel. You don’t think I notice when four of my fucking second-year cadets vanish mid-patrol?” Shit. Ezzy, Finn, Rowan. I was so close to getting out without dragging them into any of this. “And since we’re apparently doing confessions—” His eyes flick to Bren, and the crooked grin that follows is pure arrogance. “Yes, I kissedher. Would you like the full description, or just the highlights, how she tastes like?—”
“Talen.” My voice slices through his, stopping him mid-sentence, but his lips still curl like he might keep going. Bren stiffens beside me, doesn’t say anything—but I can feel it in the way his shoulder brushes mine, tension held still.
“Anyway,” Talen continues, tone casual now. “Merrin asked me to give you these.” He lifts the package slightly. “Said you’re not coming back.”
“Thanks. You can go now.” I go to take it, but he pulls it just out of reach.
“Well, technically,” he adds, glancing at his watch, “you’re still under my command for another six hours.”Of course I am.“And I’ve got strict orders to return theseafteryour training ends. So…” He lifts the package and shrugs. “I think I’ll stick around. Join your little get-together. Unless, of course, you’d prefer I march you—and your friends—back to the Citadel for deserting patrol?”
No, I can’t let that happen. I glance at Bren. One look. He knows exactly what I’m asking.
