"You're better than you think." His hand stroked down my back, soothing. "The fact that you can want at all after what was done to you... that's extraordinary."
"Extraordinary." I pulled back, tasting the word. "Daddy used that word once. Said I was an extraordinary investment. I didn't know what it meant."
"That wasn't your fault."
"I know. Daddy explained it all. How I was selected for specific traits—intelligence, adaptability, aesthetic potential. How lucky I was to be worth so much." I picked up an orange, studying its perfect roundness. "One hundred thousand dollars. That's what I cost, apparently."
Nathan took the orange from my hands gently. "That's what desperate people accept. It's not what you were worth."
"Wasn't it? The Institute hasn't gotten an excellent return on investment, I've killed more of their network than they can recruit, I've disrupted their supply chain, assets, and made their best doctor go into hiding or die." I watched him add the orange to our cart with strange fascination. "Do you know what the funny part is?"
"What?"
"I'd probably do it again. Choose the Institute over the life I had built for myself." The admission felt like swallowing glass. "At least there I mattered. Had purpose. Wasn't just another forgotten girl."
"You matter now."
"Do I? Or am I just useful?" I met his eyes, genuinely curious. "Can you tell the difference anymore? Between mattering and being useful? Because I can't."
He considered this, and I appreciated that he didn't give me platitudes. "Maybe they're not mutually exclusive. Maybe thereal question is whether someone sees your usefulness as your only value."
"And you? What do you see?"
"I see someone brilliant pretending to be broken. Someone dangerous pretending to be delicate." He stepped closer. "I see someone who could kill me six ways before I hit the ground but who's afraid of being touched without warning."
As if to prove his point, my body tensed when he reached for me, that automatic threat response Gabriel had never quite programmed out.
"Sorry," I whispered. "It's not you. It's—"
"It's survival. I know." He kept his hands visible, non-threatening. "We should talk about boundaries. For Tuesday and... otherwise."
"I don't know my boundaries. Daddy never—" I caught myself. "Gabriel set the boundaries. I just existed within them. And he didn't have boundaries."
"Then we'll find them together. Trial and error."
"Error sounds painful."
"Everything worthwhile involves some pain." He smiled slightly. "Besides, we're both experts at pain management."
I laughed despite myself. "That's a terrible selling point for a relationship."
"Good thing we're terrible at relationships." He gestured to the cart. "Dairy section?"
We finished shopping with less murder talk and more careful navigation of whatever this was between us. Nathan taught me about cheese varieties while I explained the best ways to make improvised explosives from household chemicals. He showed me how to pick ripe avocados; I demonstrated the pressure points that would drop a man in three seconds.
It was the strangest dance, but somehow it worked.
At checkout, the teenage cashier smiled at us. "You two are such a cute couple. Is it date night?"
I opened my mouth to correct her, but Nathan spoke first. "Something like that."
The girl beamed. "Well, you're adorable together. Have a great night!"
Outside, loading groceries into Nathan's car, I finally asked, "Why didn't you correct her?"
"Because explaining that we're actually planning a triple homicide seemed impolite." He closed the trunk. "Also because she wasn't entirely wrong."
"This was a date?"
