“I am here.”
I stare at him. “You think that’s enough?”
He nods once.
It’s infuriating.
It’s also the first thing that’s made me feel safe in hours.
“You ever think about how many rules you’ve broken since we met?” I ask, trying to shove the fear somewhere manageable.
“Continuously.”
I narrow my eyes. “You keep track?”
“Of course.”
“Let me guess. Double digits?”
“Seventeen breaches. Five of which are high-grade violations under Alliance Regulation 14.2A.”
“Seventeen?” My voice cracks between disbelief and a laugh I don’t quite let out. “You’re serious.”
“I am always serious.”
I huff. “That might be the least comforting thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“Then you are fortunate.”
The corner of my mouth twitches. “Was that a joke?”
His brow furrows. “Possibly.”
I roll my eyes. “We need to work on your sense of timing.”
He tilts his head slightly. “Timing is subjective.”
“Not when you’re about to be memory-wiped by an authoritarian regime, it’s not.”
He falls quiet.
And then, softly, he says, “You won’t be.”
“Yeah, you keep saying that like you can stop it.”
“I already have.”
The words settle between us. Unyielding.
He stands slowly and moves to the wall, sliding down into a seated position. Cross-legged. Relaxed. Watching me.
It’s a strange thing, having someonewatchyou and not feel judged. Assessed, maybe. Analyzed, definitely. But not reduced.
“Why me?” I ask.
He blinks once. “Clarify.”
“Out of everyone in that checkpoint line. Out of everyone on this station. Why did you choose me?”
