“Of course he does,” he mutters. “Because he is.”
I stiffen, but before I can snap at him, he shakes his head. “Not in the way you think, Torric. Not in the way he thinks.” His silver gaze sharpens. “We’re all monsters in our own way. What matters is what we do with it.”
I huff out a breath, tension still coiling in my chest. “You gonna tell him that?”
Malrik smirks, but it’s sharp, edged in something dark. “I’ll make him listen.”
I almost feel sorry for Aspen. Almost.
We move through the halls in silence, the shadows flickering against the stone walls. I keep my gaze ahead, focused on the path toward the balcony, but Malrik doesn’t let it go.
“You think this is just about Aspen?”
I exhale sharply. “He’s the one who’s losing it.”
Malrik hums like he’s unconvinced. “And you’re not?”
I cut him a glare. “I’m fine.”
His silver eyes flick toward me, unimpressed, cutting straight through the lie. “Sure you are.”
I roll my shoulders, tension creeping up my spine. “Aspen’s the one who won’t talk to anyone. He’s the one pulling away.”
“And what are you doing, Torric?” Malrik’s voice is too even, too measured. “You think you’re handling this better just because you’re not standing on a balcony, looking like you might snap in half?”
My jaw tightens. “This isn’t about me.”
He scoffs. “If you say so.”
I grit my teeth, shoving a hand through my hair. “I didn’t come find you for a therapy session, Malrik.”
“No,” he says, stopping at the base of the stairs. “You came to find me because Aspen is feeling the exact same thing you are. And you’re too damn stubborn to admit it.”
The words hit like a gut punch, and I hate that he’s right. The ache in my chest hasn’t let up since the moment Kaia collapsed. It’s only gotten stronger, worse, like something is missing. Like something is breaking inside me, piece by piece.
Malrik watches me for a long moment. “You know why that is, don’t you?”
I shake my head, pushing past him. “We’re wasting time.”
Malrik doesn’t follow immediately. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, but no less certain.
“This isn’t just about Aspen, Torric.”
I don’t answer, because I don’t want to hear it. Aspen is the one breaking. And I don’t know how to stop it.
I find him on the balcony, gripping the railing like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His knuckles are white, his breath controlled too carefully.
“She’s not yours, you know.”
Malrik’s voice is casual, but Aspen goes rigid. I feel it too, something sharp and defensive twisting in my gut.
Aspen exhales slowly. “I know.”
Malrik steps closer. “Do you?”
Aspen doesn’t answer.
Malrik doesn’t let it go. “You think you’ve lost her.”
