“I don’t want to be sidelined,” she says.
“I know.”
“They’re going to try.”
“I know.”
“And you?”
There it is again.
The question beneath the question.
I don’t answer right away.
Because the truth isn’t simple.
“You’re a target now,” I say instead.
Her expression doesn’t change.
Of course it doesn’t.
“I already was,” she replies.
“Not like this.”
That gets her attention.
A slight narrowing of her eyes.
“Explain.”
I step closer to the bed, lowering my voice—not because anyone can hear us.
Because this is just for her.
“He didn’t lose control,” I say. “He adjusted.”
Her mind moves fast—I can see it.
Connecting.
Rebuilding.
“He let me go,” she says slowly.
“No.”
I hold her gaze.
“You took it.”
A beat.
Then—
“And now he knows how you think,” I add.
