My knees threaten to buckle, and I lock them on instinct, refusing to give the night the satisfaction of watching me crumble.
Too late.
My vision blurs anyway.
I don’t cry. Not yet. My body doesn’t know how to let go like that. Instead, everything tightens—jaw, throat, shoulders—like if I hold myself together hard enough, I won’t feel the weight of what just happened.
Libby.
Her name pulses behind my eyes like a bruise.
I told them. I said it out loud. I said it in front of men who used to tuck me into booths at family dinners, who used to call mebellaand sneak me candy when Elias wasn’t looking.
She’s really gone.
The truth doesn’t feel sharp anymore. It feels heavy. Dense. Like it’s sinking into my bones and making a home there.
A hand brushes my elbow.
I flinch.
But it eases almost immediately, because I know that touch. I’d know it blind. I’d know it in my sleep.
Matthias.
He doesn’t say anything. He just stands close enough that his presence registers, close enough that my body reacts before my mind can catch up. Warmth. Gravity. A familiar pull I hate myself for needing.
“Are you hurt?” he asks quietly.
I shake my head once knowing that if I try to speak, I’ll break.
He nods like he understands. Like he always understands me better when I don’t give him words to twist.
The silence stretches between us, thick with everything we didn’t say while bullets were flying.
My hands won’t stop shaking.
I curl them into fists, nails biting into my palms, grounding myself in pain because it’s easier than grief. Easier than the image of Libby smiling at me from the kitchen table like she doesn’t know how her story ends.
“I meant what I said,” I murmur finally, my voice rough. “About not being controlled.”
Matthias exhales slowly beside me.
“I know.”
It’s not an apology. It’s not forgiveness.
It’s acknowledgment.
That almost hurts worse.
The night air feels colder now that the danger is gone. It seeps under my skin, settling deep. I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly aware of every bruise, every ache, every place where fear tried to take root and failed.
I stood my ground.
I survived.
And now that it’s over, my body is demanding payment.
