I thought about it. Really thought.
"It would feel like Stone sleeping through the night," I said finally. "Like Gray speaking in full sentences. Like the ferals getting their lives back." I shook my head. "Twilson going to prison doesn't give them that. It's just... consequences. For him."
"Consequences matter."
"I know. But they're not enough."
We walked in silence for a while. The path curved toward the Healing Center, and I let my feet carry me there without really deciding to go. The bonds hummed in my chest—Stone was nearby, and some part of me always knew where he was now.
I found him in the east wing, standing at the window.
He didn't turn when I entered, but I felt his awareness of me through the bond. A warmth that had nothing to do with temperature.
"You heard?" I asked.
"Cole texted. Unanimous vote." His voice was flat. Careful. "He's really gone?"
"They're taking him to a holding facility. The trial won't be for months, but..." I moved to stand beside him. "He's not coming back."
Stone nodded slowly. His eyes stayed fixed on the window, watching the road that led away from campus.
We stood there together in silence. I didn't push. Didn't try to fill the quiet with words. Some moments needed space.
A black car appeared on the road below.
Council vehicle. Tinted windows. Moving at a steady pace toward the main gate.
Stone went rigid beside me.
I knew without asking that Twilson was in that car. Could feel Stone's certainty through the bond, the way his whole body oriented toward that vehicle like a compass needle finding north.
The car reached the gate. Paused for the security check. Then pulled through and disappeared around the bend in the road.
Gone.
Stone exhaled. "Watching him drive away should feel like more than this."
"What does it feel like?"
He was quiet for a long moment. "Like the first day of something. Not the last day of something else." He finally turned to look at me. "Does that make sense?"
"Yeah." I reached for his hand. "It does."
Rae found us there an hour later.
She looked as tired as I felt, the weight of the day's proceedings written in the lines around her eyes. But she smiled when she saw us—a small, genuine thing that softened her whole face.
"Thought I'd find you here," she said.
"Where else would I be?"
"Fair point." She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Vince and I talked and he's already making changes. New security protocols, staff reviews. He's not wasting any time."
"Good."
"The council's also authorized expanded resources for recovery research. More funding, more staff, more everything." Her eyes found mine. "They want you involved. Officially. Not just as a student or a visitor, but as part of the program's leadership."
"Me?"
