He let out a low breath. “You would.”
I lifted my chin. “Absolutely.”
Silence settled again. Five minutes, maybe more. Time felt like a blur inside the dim red glow.
“You okay?”
I nodded, eyes still on the opposite wall. Another moment passed.
“I didn’t know you could be so quiet,” he said.
My cheeks warmed. “Sorry. I know I talk a lot.”
“Madeline. I wasn’t complaining. I was saying I missed it.”
My head turned before I could stop it. “You’re just being nice.”
“You okay?” He just asked again, softer this time.
I nodded once more, even though my chest felt warm and jumpy in a way that had nothing to do with panic. We fell into another stretch of silence.
Until he moved. His hand appeared between us, palm up, and patient, like he wasn’t sure if I’d take it.
I stared for a second.
Then slid my fingers into his.
Without thinking, my other hand drifted to the ink winding over his knuckles. I traced it lightly, following the black lines like paths on a map.
“What’s this one mean?” I murmured.
“It’s for loyalty,”
“And this?” I brushed along a curved line.
“Family.”
I kept tracing, careful, and felt the weight of his attention settle on me.
A sharp jolt shook the elevator. I gasped, my fingers tightening instinctively around his hand.
“It’s alright, the system’s coming back on.”
The lights flickered, once, twice, buzzing overhead in a way that felt too loud. I panicked.
“Madeline. Look at me.”
I did.
“It’s just the backup feed syncing. You’re fine.”
“But—”
“Breathe.” His hand squeezed mine. “In… and out. The lights always flash during a reset.”
Another metallic groan vibrated through the elevator.
This one harsher.
