His jaw tightens; the old anger is evident in his eyes.
"What do you want me to call you?" he asks.
"My name," I say. "The way you did in the gym."
He swallows hard.
"I'm still angry," he admits.
"I know."
He holds my gaze, and when he speaks again, every word sounds dragged up from a place he doesn't like to visit.
"I read your file," he says. "I know what you did. I know how you built me. I know the parts you used."
My pulse quickens.
"I'm not going to pretend it wasn't real," I say. "The file, the choices, the way I handled you." My mouth tastes like metal as I push through the next sentence. "I used what I understood about you to keep you close."
He doesn't flinch, though he should. I deserve it.
"And you expect me to believe anything else you say now?" he asks, his voice low.
"I expect you to believe the part you can see," I reply. "You've seen what I do when you're in danger. You've seen what happens when I think I'm about to lose you."
His eyes narrow slightly, as if he hates that I'm right.
"I don't know what belongs to me anymore," he says quietly. "I don't know what's mine and what's... what you trained into me."
That lands like a blow.
I don't reach for him. I don't touch him. Touch is too loaded now—a weapon in the wrong hands, and my hands are not clean.
"There are two bedrooms upstairs," I say. "Take whichever you want. We'll work out security rotations once you're settled."
He studies me for a moment, then nods and turns toward the stairs.
Halfway up, he pauses at the landing and looks back.
"Ivan."
I glance up.
His face is shadowed, framed by the light from the window behind him.
"Thank you," he says, as if the words cost him something. "For bringing me here. For not leaving me behind."
My throat tightens again, enough to make swallowing painful.
"I couldn't," I reply. "I tried to imagine it, but it doesn't work."
He holds my gaze for a moment, then disappears upstairs.
I stand alone in the kitchen of my secret house, letting the silence of the forest press in from all sides.
The file was strategy.
Deprivation was method.
