He hesitated.
Opened his mouth.
Then he changed the subject.
"We should begin the vision work. There are things you need to see."
"Silas—"
"Not today, Lumi." His voice was gentle but final. "Some answers you'll have to find yourself. It's not that I don't want to help. The knowledge isn't mine to give."
I wanted to argue. To push harder.
But I saw the weight in his eyes. Whatever he was carrying, it had been there a long time.
"Fine," I said. "Let's do the vision work."
He reached for my hands.
That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
The pieces were connecting. The missing records. The erased classifications. Silas's careful deflections.
This wasn't random.
Someone had done this deliberately. Cut out entire sections of knowledge, made sure there would be no precedent, no explanation for what I was. And now Twilson was circling, asking questions, building a file.
The question was why.
The bigger question was who.
I thought about the ferals in the clearing, arranging themselves around me like I was their center. Cal's worried eyes. Neal's incomplete archives. Silas refusing to say more.
Someone had buried the truth about what I was.
I was going to dig it up.
Chapter six
Cole's had been given an office on the third floor of the administration building.
I'd never been there before. Our interactions had always happened in neutral spaces—the Healing Center, the grounds, the clearing during the run. His territory was new to me.
The hallway was quiet when I arrived. Most of the administrative staff had gone home for the day, leaving the building feeling hollow. My footsteps echoed against the tile.
I was here for a follow-up security meeting. Cole had requested it through Rae—formal, professional, no explanation. Just a time and a room number written on a slip of paper.
I'd almost said no.
After the walkthrough, after the way he'd pulled away from me every time the bond tugged between us, I wasn't sure I couldhandle another hour of his careful distance. But Rae had given me a look that said this wasn't optional.
So here I was.
His door was at the end of the hall. A brass nameplate readLen Cole, Security Coordinator. The door was cracked open, a sliver of warm light spilling into the corridor.
I raised my hand to knock.
And froze.
