"Trinity—"
"No." Her voice is steel. "I'm not letting them destroy what I've built. Not for ratings. Not for anyone."
The determination in her face reminds me why I'm doing any of this. Why I'm risking exile, family, everything.
"Then we'll do it your way," I say. "But we do it smart."
"Agreed."
We spend the next hour strategizing. Trinity contacts a lawyer friend, starts building a case. I reach out to a few crew members I trust, people who've seen things, heard things, who might be willing to speak up if it comes to it.
By late afternoon, we have something resembling a plan.
And then my phone rings. Uncle Drogar again.
"Nephew. Hope I'm not interrupting."
"What do you want?"
"Just checking in. Making sure you're being sensible. Making good choices."
"Define good."
"The kind that don't end with you exiled and shamed."
I look at Trinity, organizing documents, preparing for war. Beautiful. Fierce. Worth every risk.
"I'm making the right choices."
"That's not what I asked."
"It's the answer you're getting."
Silence. Then: "The Circle convenes in two days. They expect your answer. Will you withdraw from the show, end this human entanglement, and return to the clan?"
Trinity's watching me now. She can't hear the conversation, but she knows. She always knows.
"No," I say.
"Korgan—"
"I'm not withdrawing. I'm not ending anything. If the Circle wants to exile me for choosing my own path, for building something real with someone who matters, then let them."
"You're choosing a human over your people."
"I'm choosing myself. For the first time in my life, I'm choosing what I want instead of what tradition demands."
"They'll destroy you."
"They can try."
I hang up. Trinity's still watching me.
"That sounded final."
"It was." I cross the room, take her hands. "My clan wants me to walk away. From you, from this show, from everything. They're threatening exile."
"Korgan, you can't, your family?—"
