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“Aaron,” she says, reaching for my arm.
Her fingers are warm.
Steady.
Grounding.
“If I run, you confirm everything they’re saying.”
I hate that.
I hate that she’s right.
I hate that this isn’t something I can shoot.
“I can disappear you,” I say. “Right now.”
I mean it.
I can.
“And then what?” she asks softly.
Her eyes hold mine.
Clear.
Certain.
“I live as proof of their story?”
Silence.
Because that—
That’s exactly what would happen.
“This is the battlefield now,” she says.
Not fear.
Not surrender.
Strategy.
The lock shifts.
Metal turning.
“They have a master key,” Ronan says quietly. “This is clean.”
Of course it is.
They planned everything.
Lark steps in front of me.
Between me and the door.
