Then the air shifts before I see him.
It’s the same sensation I felt earlier – pressure redistributing, the sense of being observed by something that isn’t improvising. The others feel it too. I can tell by the way their attention snaps outward, by the subtle realignment of bodies into something more alert, more defensive.
Valentine steps out from the side street like he’s been there the whole time. Like he’s been waiting for the decision to finish being made. His gaze sweeps over the group, taking in their stances, the bruises, the blood. He smiles faintly, like a man pleased with the efficiency of an outcome.
No rush. No urgency. No surprise at the blood on the pavement or the bruises blooming across faces. His gaze sweeps the group once more, taking inventory, then settles on me.
“You’ve decided,” he says.
Not a question.
“Yes.”
He nods, faint approval flickering across his expression like a box ticked on a form. “Good.”
Nightshade moves immediately, placing himself half a step in front of me. Protective. Instinctive. Too late to change anything.
Valentine doesn’t react.
“Shall we?” he asks.
I meet his eyes without flinching.
“Yes,” I say. “Let’s.”
“And the rest of us?” Nightshade demands.
Valentine considers the question, then looks back to me. “That’s up to her.”
Every head turns.
I meet Valentine’s gaze. “They’re coming.”
Nightshade stiffens. Bones’ jaw sets. Ghost doesn’t move at all.
Valentine inclines his head. “Then you’ll all be processed.”
Honey grimaces. “Hate that word.”
Valentine’s mouth twitches. “You’ll get used to it.”
The sound of an engine cuts through the street – low, controlled, expensive. A black car rolls into view at the end of the road, slowing as it approaches like it already knows exactly where to stop.
This is it.
No countdown. No ceremony.
Just inevitability.
Valentine steps aside, gesturing toward the car. “It’s time.”
I don’t move immediately.
I look at them – really look this time. At the bruises. The tension. The lines already being redrawn in their faces.
“With me,” I say quietly. “Or stay. It’s okay to stay. I won’t hold it against you.”
No one answers.
