"Thank you. For not running. For seeing what I am and staying anyway."
"Thank you for showing me." His voice rumbled through his chest. "For letting me see behind the performance."
"It's not entirely performance. The broken doll thing."
"I know. The best masks are mostly truth." He pressed another kiss to my hair. "But there's more underneath. I saw it today, when you were working. Perfect focus, absolute purpose. It was beautiful."
"You have a strange definition of beauty."
"I have an experienced definition. Beauty isn't always soft things and light. Sometimes it's precision and darkness and the will to cut out cancers." His arms tightened. "Sometimes it's a girl who sings lullabies to monsters while she takes them apart."
We stayed like that, quiet in my empty apartment with the murder wall watching over us. Two predators learning to trust, sharing space and silence. It wasn't love—neither of us remembered how to do that. But it was recognition. Partnership. The beginning of something that might be worth the vulnerabilities it created.
8
Partnership
"No, Bunny. Put the fruit snacks down."
I hugged the box of Disney Princess gummies tighter, giving Nathan my best pout. "But they have Rapunzel. She's my favorite because her hair is a weapon."
"They're pure sugar." He gently extracted the box from my hands, replacing it with an apple. "This is fruit. Actual fruit that grew on trees."
"Trees are boring." I spun away from him, my yellow sundress flaring out like a bell. The grocery store's fluorescent lights made everything look too bright, too real. "Ooh, look! They have the cookies shaped like animals!"
Nathan caught my wrist before I could dart toward the cookie aisle. His touch was firm but careful, always so careful with me since this morning. "List first. Then we can discuss cookies."
"Lists are for people who don't trust their instincts." But I let him guide me back to the cart, sneaking a bag of gummy bears into it when he checked his phone. "Besides, sugar helps with planning murders. It's science."
"It's not science." He noticed the gummy bears and sighed. "One bag. That's it."
"You're very controlling, you know that?" I perched on the front of the cart like I'd seen children do, swinging my legs. "Daddy never limited my sugar intake."
The word slipped out before I could stop it. Nathan's hand stilled on the cart handle.
"Gabriel," I corrected quickly, focusing on my white Mary Janes. "I meant Gabriel."
"It's okay," he said quietly. "You don't have to correct yourself with me."
"Yes, I do." I picked at the lace trim on my dress. "Using the right words matters. He taught me that. Words shape reality, and reality shapes behavior, and behavior shapes—"
"Bunny." Nathan moved in front of me, tilting my chin up. "Breathe."
I did, pulling in air that tasted like produce and normalcy. His green eyes were steady, grounding. Safe. It was such a foreign concept that I almost laughed.
"Better?"
"Functional." I hopped off the cart, needing movement. "Can we discuss the Pier 47 approach now? All this domestic normality is making me twitchy."
"In the cereal aisle. Less foot traffic." He guided us there, one hand light on my lower back. "And this is part of the job too. Maintaining your body so it functions optimally during operations."
"My body functions fine on chaos and candy."
"Your body functions despite chaos and candy. There's a difference." He stopped us between the Cheerios and Lucky Charms. "Now. Three entry points to Pier 47. Which do you prefer?"
I closed my eyes, visualizing the layout. "Southeast corner. The loading dock they use for the lunch deliveries. Guard rotation leaves a twelve-minute gap between four-fifteen and four-twenty-seven."
"Good catch. I had it at eleven minutes."
