"No—"
"It's okay, Saint." She reaches down, pulls her nightgown up, past her thighs. "This is all we have."
I stare at her. At this woman who used to fight me. Who used to bite my lip when I kissed her. Who used to come apart in my arms and curse my name and make me feel alive.
I pull her nightgown back down. "I'm tired. Go to sleep, Gemma."
She nods and turns back over.
I lie there in the dark, listening to her breathing.
Even and steady.
Like she's not affected at all.
Like I'm not there.
Is she even here?
I'm honestly not fucking sure.
Day five.
She's getting thinner. She's losing weight she can't afford to shed. The clothes hang off her frame. Her collarbone is too prominent, and her hip bones are too sharp.
"Lyla says you're not eating."
"I eat."
"Not enough."
"I'm not hungry," she shrugs. "I can't force it."
We're in the dining room. Breakfast is spread out around us, and I fill her plate with all her normal favorites.
"Gemma, you need to?—"
"I'm fine." She takes a sip of water, not even coffee, the one thing she always had, reliably. "Was there something else?"
I want to shake her. Want to make her react. Want to see anything other than this empty compliance, but I'm genuinely scared that if I touch her, she'll shatter.
"Yes. Actually." I lean forward. "I've been thinking. About what happened with Adrian."
No reaction, and I have to press myself to push forward. This is fucking insane.
"I need you to understand, I did this for us. To keep us safe. Alexei had leverage. If he'd gone to Adrian first, the consequences would have been much worse." I'm talking faster now, needing her to understand. "I controlled the narrative. Protected you. Yes, Adrian was angry, but he didn't kill you. He didn't invoke the contract. We survived it."
"I understand."
"We can move forward now—together, really together. No more secrets. No more betrayals on either side. Just us. I know you are upset, but Adrian will get over it. He's being a child?—"
"Okay."
I'm beginning to hate that word. Hate how easily it falls from her lips. How little it means.
"Gemma—"
"I heard you." She meets my eyes. "You did what you had to do. For the family. I understand. Can I be excused?"
