Grounding.
“You’re not just holding evidence,” I say quietly.
“You’re holding the one thing they can’t control.”
Her breath catches—just barely.
“And what’s that?” she asks.
I hold her gaze.
“The truth they missed.”
A beat.
Then she exhales, tension bleeding just slightly from her shoulders.
“They’re not going to stop,” she says again.
“No,” I agree.
My grip tightens—just a fraction.
“Neither are we.”
And this time—
When she looks at me—
It’s not about escape.
Not about survival.
It’s about standing.
Together.
And going to war.
16
Lark
Location: Safehouse — Night
Time: After Midnight
The apartment smells like coffee, ozone, and nerves.
It clings to everything—air, fabric, skin.
Ronan’s voice hums in the background, low and steady through his headset. Keys tap in quiet bursts. No one is resting. No one is even pretending to.
The world is being held together by people who refuse to stop.
Aaron hasn’t sat down.
Not once.
