“No,” I cut in. “I’m not explaining this. I’m not negotiating it. If Snow hadn’t intercepted me, I’d already be long gone.”
Honey looks between us, mouth opening, then closing again. He tries for lightness and misses by a mile. “Maybe we don’t decide this on the pavement, yeah? Let’s go back inside. Regroup.”
“There is no regroup,” I say. “There is only now.”
Ghost steps closer, gaze steady, voice level. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Hatchet watches me without blinking. He doesn’t ask. He just nods once, like he’s already adjusted his internal map and moves a fraction of a step closer to me. Choosing.
“Are you planning to go back alone?” Honey asks.
I meet his gaze. “If that’s what it takes.”
Nightshade hasn’t taken his eyes off the street where Snow vanished. When he finally looks at me, there’s something raw and dangerous in his expression.
“No,” Nightshade says immediately. Too fast. Too sharp. “Absolutely not.”
“You don’t get to forbid me,” I say. “You lost that right when you decided to wait.”
The words hurt. I see it in his face – pain, anger, regret colliding without anywhere to go.
“You think I didn’t want to tell you?” he snaps. “You think this was easy?”
“I think,” I say calmly, “that you chose the system over my agency. And I’m done pretending that didn’t happen.”
Silence stretches again, brittle this time.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” he says.
“I know. That’s why I’m being clear.” I step closer to them, forcing them to cluster, forcing this into the open where it can’t be delayed or diluted. “I am going back to the island,” I say calmly. “Not because they want me to. Not because Valentine thinks I will. But because it’s the only place left that holds the rest of the truth. I think we all need answers, but IknowI do. And I know that’s the only place I’m going to get them.”
Bones swears under his breath. “You think they’ll let you walk in and ask questions?”
“I think they’ll try to stop me,” I say but before I can continue I’m interrupted.
Honey’s face tightens. “We should wait for Snow.”
The words land badly.
I turn to him slowly. “Snow made his choice.”
“He didn’t?—”
“He absolutely did,” I snap, cutting him off. “He chose silence. He chose to manage me instead of trusting me. And I’m done letting people decide my life from the shadows.”
Nightshade stiffens at that, but I don’t soften it for him.
“I’m not asking for permission,” I continue. “I’m telling you what’s happening.”
Ghost steps forward, grounding the moment. “If you go back now, they’ll control the environment. They’ll dictate terms.”
I nod. “Yes.”
“And you’re still going.”
“Yes.”
