I don’t give him that comfort.
This is what it looks like from the outside, I realise. This is what they think they’re seeing.
Snow looks like a threat.
I look like a victim.
And no one is asking me what I want.
“What you think you saw,” I say to all of them, “is not what happened.”
Bones’ voice is rough. “He put his hands on you.”
“He tried,” I correct.
Nightshade’s gaze flickers, sharp. “Tried what?”
I look at Snow. Then back to Nightshade.
“Tried to stop me leaving,” I say. “Without telling me why.”
Silence stretches, thick with restraint.
Snow’s head snaps up. “Kayla?—”
I hold up a hand. “Don’t.”
His flinch tells me that the word lands harder than any blow.
“I was leaving,” I continue. “He didn’t like that.”
Nightshade looks at me, searching my face like he’s checking for damage he can’t see. “Did he hurt you?”
I shake my head once. “Not how you’re thinking.”
Snow straightens, wiping his mouth again, eyes never leaving me. “You don’t know what you’re walking into.”
“I know you didn’t trust me – or any of us – with the truth,” I reply. “And that’s enough.”
Bones takes a step forward again, jaw tight. “You want me to finish this?”
“No,” I say. “I want you to listen to me.”
That surprises them.
“This ends now,” I say. “The fighting. The guessing. The protecting me from information like I’m a child.”
I let the words settle into the space.
Then, calmly, like I’m stating a fact about the weather:
“I’m going back.”
No one speaks at first.
They’re still coming down from the adrenaline, from the instinct to protect, from the sudden realisation that I didn’t need rescuing in the way they assumed. Bones’ hands flex andunclench. Nightshade’s breathing is still too fast. Honey looks like he’s about to crack a joke and realises it would be a mistake.
Ghost watches me the way he does when something is shifting under the surface and he needs to understand the fault line before it breaks.
