At least I'll fail in person.
Trinity's room is on the opposite side of the compound. I've memorized the route of guard rotations, camera blind spots, the service hallway that maintenance uses.
I don't use any of it.
Walk straight through the main corridor, past the cameras, through the common area where early-rising contestants freeze mid-coffee. Let them stare. Let them film.
Her door is locked. I knock, three sharp raps that echo down the hallway.
Nothing.
"Trinity." Keep my voice low but clear. "It's me."
Silence stretches. My chest tightens. Maybe she's asleep. Maybe she's ignoring me. Maybe?—
The lock clicks.
She opens the door six inches, eyes red-rimmed and fierce. Still wearing yesterday's clothes, hair escaping its bun in wild curls. Beautiful and exhausted and looking at me like I'm a problem she hasn't decided how to solve.
"What."
Not a question. A challenge.
"I have proof. The footage was edited. Text messages fabricated. I confronted the producers an hour ago, sent everything to the press. It goes public at six."
Her expression doesn't change. "You have proof."
"Yes."
"And you're telling me now. After I spent twelve hours thinking I'd destroyed everything. After I made that video alone?—"
"I know." My hands flex at my sides. "I was strategizing. Being tactical. Being an idiot."
"Yeah." She grips the door edge hard enough her knuckles go white. "You were."
"I'm sorry."
"For what, specifically? For making me think you'd abandoned me? For letting me fight alone while you played political chess? For?—"
"All of it." I meet her eyes. "For being too afraid of clan disapproval to stand with you when it mattered. For choosing honor protocols over the woman I love."
She blinks. "What did you just say?"
"I love you. Told my clan elder an hour ago. Recorded a video for the press. Threatened three producers and a rival contestant. Probably violated six different contracts."
Trinity stares.
"Also contacted a journalist and sent him all the evidence, so by breakfast everyone will know you were framed and I'm courting you with clan support, which means?—"
She yanks me inside by my vest and kisses me hard enough to stop words.
I stumble backward into her room, door slamming shut behind us. Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me down to her level. The kiss tastes like rage and relief tangled together, her mouth fierce against mine.
When she finally pulls back, breathing hard, her eyes are wet.
"You absolutebastard." But she's smiling. Sort of. Crying and smiling simultaneously. "You made me wait twelve hours for the grand gesture?"
"I'm slow. You knew this."
