“Remember,” he says softly, voices aligned for once, “you’re allowed to take up space in your own body.”
I cover his hand with mine for a single second. Feel the pulse there. Human. Real.
Then I step back.
“I think,” I say softly, “I see all of you. Every part. And I’m not afraid of any of them. You’re allowed to be all of you here, none of it makes me want you less.”
When I open the stairwell door, the hotel smells like detergent and coffee and false normality. Like the world pretending nothing sharp exists.
Nightshade will see the difference immediately, as will Hatchet. Bones will note it in my gait most likely. Honey will try to laugh it off but he’ll catalogue it. Snow will be oblivious and self-absorbed as always.
None of them will know exactly what Ghost knows.
And I won’t tell them.
Not yet.
Because whatever is inside me isn’t just watching how I survive pressure anymore.
It’s watching what I choose when things go quiet.
And so am I.
Of course,it’s utterly ridiculous that I have to sneak back into my own hotel room, even though I’ve done nothing wrong.
It’s probably even more ridiculous that I thought I could get away with sneaking out, without being caught.
The door clicks softly behind me.
I barely have time to register the darkness before Nightshade moves.
He’s on his feet instantly, a shadow detaching itself from the far side of the room, crossing the space between us with controlled speed that makes my pulse jump.
“Where were you.”
Not a question.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “I went for a walk.”
“You left the room,” he snaps, stopping so close I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. “You were gone when I woke up.”
The words aren’t loud. They don’t need to be. There’s something stripped bare in his tone, all the restraint he prides himself on cracked open and exposed.
“I didn’t disappear,” I say evenly. “I came back.”
“That’s not the same thing,” he says. His eyes drag over me, sharp, searching, cataloguing. “You didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t think I needed to.”
His jaw flexes. “After everything?—”
“I was safe.”
That stops him.
“Safe how?” he demands.
I hesitate for half a second. Not because I’m unsure, but because I know exactly what this will do.
