Had they been the trigger? Was Klein here because of them?
What other reason could there be? Klein didn't just show up in random cities harassing people. He had an angle. Always did. Always some conspiracy he was chasing, some case he thought would make his career if he could just prove it.
If Dominion Hall had brought Klein down on me, that meant they weren't just powerful. They had powerful enemies. The kind that sent federal agents sniffing around, looking for leverage, for dirt, for anything they could use to bring down whatever operation Micah was running.
Was that really something I wanted to get tangled with? On top of Sophie? On top of everything else that was already falling apart around me?
It was too much to think about. Too many variables, too many ways this could go wrong, too many ways I could hurt people just by existing near them.
Right now, all I had the energy to do was get my thoughts in line before dinner. Somehow tell Sophie I was sorry without making it worse, without digging the hole deeper. Let her off easy. Blame it all on myself—which was true, anyway. Make up a story, maybe. Something believable that would let her walk away clean, let her remember me as the boy from Valentine instead of the disaster I'd become.
I'd deal with Dominion Hall after. Maybe ask Micah for a favor, cash in whatever goodwill I'd built. Maybe just disappear entirely, go back to my unit, volunteer for the worst assignments until something took me out of the equation permanently.
Disappear.
That sounded best. Safest. For everyone.
Because after all, wasn't that what the universe was trying to tell me with everything that was happening? Klein showing up out of nowhere. Sophie getting hurt because I couldn't just let myself be happy. Dominion Hall pulling me into something I didn't understand with enemies I couldn't see.
Stay in your quiet corner of the world, Wyatt. You don't deserve nice things. You never did.
Yeah.
That sounded about right.
20
SOPHIE
By late morning, the city felt like it had decided to behave.
Charleston wasn’t doing anything dramatic—no sudden storms, no oppressive heat wave, no sticky threat in the air. Just sun, warm pavement, a soft breeze off the harbor, and the particular kind of beauty that made you forget, for brief, dangerous stretches of time, that your life could hurt.
I’d finished breakfast with Beth and Natasha, laughed when Beth toasted me with “attagirl,” and nodded when Natasha lifted her coffee like we were pledging allegiance to courage.
Then they’d left me alone.
Not because they didn’t care. Because they did. Because they understood that there was a difference between being supported and being crowded.
I had dinner tonight.
With Wyatt.
And I’d already decided something I couldn’t undecide.
I was going to tell him the truth.
Not the watered-down version. Not the “I care about you” version. Not the “maybe someday” version.
The full thing.
I loved him.
And I wanted him as mine—romantically, deliberately, out loud. Not a secret yearning. Not a half-step. Not a history I kept folding and refolding until it fit inside a friendship-shaped box.
If he said no, I would cry. I would hate it. I would probably feel embarrassed for a week.
But I would survive it.
