“I think it already does, in its own way,” he replies, his gaze steady on mine. “We’re connected, whether we chose it or not. The bond exists. The question is whether we fight it or find a way to make it work for us rather than against us.”
His pragmatism is oddly comforting—this acknowledgment that our situation is what it is, that we can’t change the past but might be able to shape the future. It’s a perspective I’ve been missing in my own circular thinking.
“I talked to Logan,” I admit, watching Cillian’s face carefully for his reaction. “Last night, after I left your room.”
A flicker of surprise crosses his features, quickly replaced by something that might be approval. “And?”
“And he seemed... open to the idea. To trying something different.” I hesitate, then add, “He agreed to let me set the pace. To not push.”
Cillian nods, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “That’s progress.”
“It’s something,” I agree cautiously. “I’m not sure if it’s enough, but it’s... a start.”
We stand in silence for a moment, both looking out at the overgrown garden. The quiet between us is comfortable in a way I wouldn’t have expected, given the intimacy of our conversation. There’s an ease with Cillian that I don’t feel with the others—a sense that I don’t have to perform or pretend or be on guard.
“Whatever you decide,” he says finally, breaking the silence, “about staying or going—I want you to know that I’ll support you. Not just because of the pack bond, but because I believe in your judgment.”
“Even if I choose to run? To abandon the rebellion before it even starts?”
“Even then,” he confirms, his voice steady. “Your reasons would be valid, whatever they are.”
I study his face, searching for any hint of deception or manipulation. Finding none, I allow myself to ask the question that’s been lingering at the edges of my thoughts.
“What would you choose? If it were up to you?”
Cillian’s expression turns thoughtful, his gaze shifting back to the window. “I’ve been asking myself the same question,” he admits. “Trying to separate what I want from what I think is best for the pack…or for you.”
“And?” I prompt when he doesn’t continue.
He sighs, running a hand through his pale hair. “And I don’t have a clear answer. Both paths carry risks I’m not sure I’m willing to take. Both offer potential rewards that might not be worth the cost.”
His honesty is refreshing—this admission that he, too, struggles with the weight of the decision before us. That he doesn’t have all the answers, doesn’t pretend to know what’s best for everyone.
“But if I had to choose,” he continues after a moment, “I think I would stay and fight.”
I blink, surprised by his answer. Of all of them, Cillian has always seemed the most cautious, the most pragmatic. The one most likely to advocate for the safer path.
“Why?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Because running only delays the inevitable,” he says, echoing Poe’s words from earlier. “The king’s reach is long, and his memory longer. And because...” He pauses, seeming to weigh his next words carefully. “Because I’ve spent too much of my life hiding. Pretending to be something I’m not. I’m tired of it.”
“I understand that,” I say quietly, the words feeling inadequate but sincere.
Cillian’s gaze meets mine, a flash of recognition passing between us. “I know you do.”
We stand there for a moment longer, the silence between us comfortable and weighted with shared understanding. Then Cillian straightens, moving away from the window.
“I should check in with Ares about perimeter security,” he says, his voice returning to its usual practical tone. “We’ve been stationary too long. It makes me nervous.”
I nod, understanding his shift back to pack business. “Of course.”
He turns to go, then pauses, looking back at me. “Whatever you decide, Maya—make sure it’s what you want. Not what you think Logan wants, or what Poe is pushing for, or what Ares fears. And definitely not even me. Between the Enclave and the doctor, you’ve suffered more than any of us. This is your choice. About your future.”
With that, he’s gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the view of the wild, untamed garden beyond the glass.
Your choice. Your future.
The words echo in my mind, both empowering and terrifying. For so long, my life has been shaped by others’ decisions, others’ desires, others’ expectations. The thought of truly choosing for myself—of taking this power that Logan has handed me and using it to shape not just my future but all of ours—is dizzying in its implications.
