“He’s still not eating?” a woman’s frustrated voice asks, and a deeper grunt confirms it. “Gods damn it,” she mutters under her breath.
I close my eye, bracing for the lecture that will come.
They bring me three fresh meals every day like they promised, and even brought the razor I requested without a single critical thought to the fact that there's no hair growing on my face. They've given me everything I need, but ever since the spare clothes arrived, I haven’t been able to force down more than a bite or two.
The shirt smells of Cato’s spicy soap and detergent, but underneath it is a scent that twists my stomach and throat in equal measure.
Bergamot and eucalyptus.
The exact artisan soaps I used to order for Bash. It cost a small fortune to include them with the supply shipments, but what else would I have spent my pay on besides spoiling the man I loved?
Soaps, coffee beans, lacy things to wear beneath my uniform… everything was for him.
I lift the fabric to my face and chase the ghost of his scent through the layers of someone else’s, battling the sorrow that rises like bile whenever the two mingle.
For two days I have sat in this room in near silence, though Cato has come by twice to interrupt my brooding.
On the first visit, he brought Sakane, probably thinking he was the safer choice. The sides of his head are shaved, and the top of his jet-black hair is pulled back in a bun. His small frame and wide brown eyes are unimposing, and his tentative smile oozes naivety.
I haven't forgotten who shoved a bag over my head, though.
On the second visit, he brought the blue-haired woman they call Ego. She has a lot more fire in her tiny frame, and a tongue sharp enough to battle Cameron's.
Both times I simply turned my head to the wall until they took the hint and left.
I should be planning an escape.
It wouldn’t even be difficult.
They place a single guard outside the door like it’s enough to keep me contained, but slipping into their mind would be as simple as turning a key. One quiet suggestion, and the lock would click open. Sneaking through the building might provetrickier with so many bodies moving about, but they are all human, which means they’re no match for me at full strength.
The reason I stay is the same reason I left the village in the first place.
Him.
Back at home, they were speechless when they learned I’d hidden Bash from them, but once that wore off, the rounds of endless questions began. Who he was, what he knew, and how it could benefit our mission. After those were asked and answered, the group insisted I come find him and ask for his help.
I argued, of course, because that was what they expected… because it fit the role I had been playing all these years.
They didn’t know the full story, after all.
No one does.
The moment someone voiced the idea out loud, a wave of relief nearly dropped me to my knees. If they were the ones suggesting it—iftheywere ordering me to go—then I didn’t have to admit how desperately I wanted it myself.
I didn’t have to be the heartbroken ex chasing after the man I still loved, tail between my legs and pride in tatters, or confess that the choices I made, however painful, were born from that love.
I didn’t have to argue they couldn’t possibly understand what it did to me, or that I would have given anything,everything, to have chosen differently.
That would’ve been letting them see too much.
Too much ofme.
Too much of those demons I fight so hard to keep chained in the dark.
My secrets don’t deserve to see the light of day, because if they ever broke free, they’d scorch everything they touched. They need to stay buried in those deep, suffocating graves whereno one can dig them up, even if the weight of all that earth has been burying me right alongside them.
Thick emotion clogs my throat as I focus on the muffled noises filtering into the room. We’re somewhere busy within the city, and the sounds find their way through the walls at all hours. The constant hum of foot traffic, occasional vehicles, heavy doors slamming, and even the intermittent chime of a doorbell. Despite the lack of windows, the outside world feels close.
