But it’s warmer now.
Less jagged.
More like an old scar than a fresh wound.
I shift beside her, resting my elbows on my knees.
“What now?”
She shrugs.
“Now? I lose my job. Get smeared across syndicate tabloids. Probably blacklisted. Again.”
“Rhea—”
“And I keep raising her. No matter what.”
My throat tightens.
I nod.
Then I ask the one thing I don’t have the right to ask.
“Can I see her? Really see her?”
She doesn’t answer.
Not right away.
But she doesn’t say no.
And in the ache between her silence and my breath, there’s hope.
Small.
Flickering.
But alive.
CHAPTER 18
RHEA
Idon’t know how long we sit there on the loading dock—me wrapped in a borrowed jacket and Valtron with his elbows braced on his knees, hands twitching like he’s fighting the urge to hold me again.
But the sun sets.
And neither of us moves.
The stars start to peek through the dome’s shield above the arena, glittering behind waves of plasma static and city haze. And still, we stay.
Breathing.
Not touching.
Not yet.
I’m so tired. Bone-deep. Soul-sick.
