I run through the list again, in my head. It’s so short, it’s painful.
“There was Mara,” I say slowly. “My best friend. But we haven’t spoken in over a year. Not since I—” I stop myself.
“Not since what?”
“Not since we argued about my father. Whether he was innocent or guilty.”
Sting’s gaze sharpens. “Would she come looking for you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” My chest tightens. “She always thought she could fix things. Save people.”
“Does she know you entered the Hunt?”
“She might have heard, but not from me.”
His fingers tighten slightly in my hair. Not painful. Just... present. “If she comes back,” he says, “we won’t let her leave.”
The words send a chill through me. “You’d kill her?”
“If we had to.”
“She’s just trying to help… if it was her. I don’t know why she would give a shit, though. She didn’t care when I needed her on the outside. Why would she look for me now?”
“She’s risking your life,” he interrupts. “And mine. And everyone else’s down here who depends on the Rot staying locked up tight.”
My throat tightens. “I’ll tell her to stop looking. If I can just?—”
“You can’t.” His voice is firm. “You’re not leaving. And no one from outside gets in.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?” My voice cracks slightly. “Just hope she gives up?”
“Yes.”
Bile rises in my throat.
“I know this is hard,” he murmurs. “But you need to let go of whoever you were before.”
“I wasn’t much before, which is why I guess I signed on. So who am I now?”
His gaze drops to my mouth, then returns to my eyes. “Mine.”
Heat blooms through me despite everything including the fear, the anger, and the exhaustion pressing down on me. I’m tired. So tired.
“You keep saying that,” I whisper.
“Because it’s true.” He traces my lower lip slowly, deliberately.
My breath stutters.
“You feel it,” he says.
“Feel what?”
“This.” His hand slides to the back of my neck again, fingers curling into my hair, and he pulls me closer. Not roughly. Just... insistently.
Until there’s barely any space between us.
“You’re not afraid of me,” he murmurs.
