No. Not proof.
But… correlation.
I closed my eyes and exhaled through my nose. If you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains—however improbable—has to be the truth. I'd always treated that line like a clever joke, something to toss out when logic cornered a problem. This time, it felt less amusing. I didn't like what it implied. Telepathy was impossible. Gods were impossible. A conscious abyss was impossible. And yet?—
I opened my eyes again.
If I dismissed the improbable simply because it made me uncomfortable, then I wasn't doing science. I was protecting my assumptions. That realization irritated me almost as muchas Dravok did. I set the palmtop aside and stood, suddenly too restless to sit. The cabin extended beyond the main room into a private bathing chamber, and I hadn't explored it yet. Since I needed to stop thinking for a moment, I decided to check it out.
The bathroom was… ridiculous. Smooth stone-like surfaces that warmed under bare feet. Water that fell in a perfectly calibrated sheet instead of droplets, adjusting temperature before it even touched skin. Light that shifted subtly, based on posture and pulse, responding as if the room itself was paying attention.
I stripped and stepped into the water, letting it wash over me, grounding myself in sensation that was entirely, indisputably real.
Not myth.
Not manipulation.
Just heat. Pressure. Gravity.
Think, Nadine.
Dravok could be wrong.
Or—
He could be right.
I rested my forehead briefly against the cool stone wall, let the water cascade around me. I didn't trust him. More to the point, I wasn't ready to believe him. But for the first time since he'd dragged me onto this ship, I had to admit something that unsettled me deeply:I could no longer dismiss him outright. Which meant the universe was about to get a lot more complicated. Which, annoyingly, was exactly where I did my best work.
The water shut off with a soft sigh, leaving the room warm and faintly scented with something clean and unfamiliar. I stood there longer than necessary, letting the last of the heat bleed out of my skin. Until reality caught up. I had nothing.
No change of clothes. No soap of my own. No moisturizer. No toothbrush. Not even the emergency stash I always kept in my bag, a habit of mine that survived the fall of Earth.
Grinding my teeth, I reached for the pile of fabric I'd discarded earlier, then stopped. Why should I? Because he'd abducted me? Because he'd decided what wassafefor me? Because he thought he could control everything—including me?No!
A thin, humorless smile pulled at my lips. Let him deal with the consequences. I pushed the door open and stepped back into the main cabin. And there he was. Sitting. Waiting. Leaning back with infuriating ease, one ankle resting on his knee, arms folded loosely as if this were his living room and not the site of my second kidnapping.
For half a second, his expression didn't change. Then it did. Subtle. Controlled. But I saw it. His gaze locked on me, then flicked away just a fraction too late. Heat crept up his neck, sharpening the line of his jaw. Good. That did it.
"I have nothing," I snapped, striding forward as if I were fully dressed. "No clean clothes. No soap. No—anything." I spread my arms, deliberately, forcing him to either look or make it obvious he wasn't. "You dragged me onto this ship like a barbarian and didn't even give me five seconds to grab basic necessities."
His brow furrowed. Just slightly. And there it was again, that flicker. Regret. As close to repentance as I suspected Dravok could manage.
"We'll remedy that," he promised.
I crossed my arms. He definitely looked away then. "You'll forgive me if I don't find your promises particularly reassuring right now."
"I know," he nodded. "But you have to trust me."
I let out a short, sharp laugh.
"The Abysssensedme, didn't it?" I made exaggerated quotation marks in the air. "That's what you're saying. And it was just too dangerous for me back there."
"Yes."
"And I'm safe here with you?" I challenged.
His gaze lifted—met mine—and for a fraction of a second, something shifted. Not confidence. Calculation. He didn't answer immediately. That bothered me more than a lie would have.
