Maya doesn't say anything. She crosses the room, sits down on the bed next to me, and waits.
"I'm fine," I manage between gasps. "I'm—I'll be fine."
"You don't have to be fine right now."
"I have to testify tomorrow. I have to be—"
"You have to be honest tomorrow. That's all." Her hand finds my back. "Right now, you can fall apart. That's allowed."
So I do.
Maya doesn't try to stop me. Doesn't offer platitudes. She sits with me while I shake apart.
When the worst of it passes, I'm hollow. I wipe my face with the back of my hand and stare at the beige wall.
"He told me who he was." My voice comes out raw. "Every wall he put up, every time he pulled back—that was him telling me. And I decided I knew better."
Maya is quiet for a moment.
"That's not what I saw."
"Then you weren't paying attention. I walked in with my eyes open. That's the worst part. I can't even pretend I didn't know."
"I saw the way he looked at you." Maya's voice is gentle. "When we came to pick you up. The way he stood between you and Rodriguez. The way he fought for Ash to come with you—that wasn't a man keeping his distance."
"And then he let me go." I meet her eyes. "Whatever he felt, it wasn't enough."
"Orcs like him don't know how to love without waiting for the punishment. Pushing you away is the only protection they understand." Maya pauses. "I've been where you're standing. Understanding why they do it doesn't make watching them do it any easier."
"I don't want to be protected from him."
"I know. But he doesn't know how to hear that yet."
I close my eyes. The tears are gone now. I'm too empty for more.
"I keep looking for him," I whisper. "Every time a door opens. Every time I hear footsteps. I hate myself for it."
"That's not something to hate yourself for."
"He made his choice. He watched me leave. He didn't—" My voice cracks. "He didn't even try to stop me."
Maya is quiet. She doesn't have an answer for that.
"You should eat something," she says finally. "And try to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be hard."
"I know."
"But you'll get through it."
I'm not sure that's true anymore. The safe house was terrifying, but at least I knew what I was fighting. This—I don't know how to survive this.
But I nod. Because tomorrow, I have to testify. Tomorrow, I have to look Venetti in the eye and tell a room full of strangers what he did. Alone.
***
I look for him. I hate myself for it, but I do.
My eyes scan the gallery for olive skin and tusks and a set of shoulders that would stand out in any crowd.
