My stomach dipped. “About me?”
“About everyone,” he said. “They told me you saw things you couldn’t stop. That you’d carry it. That you’d doubt yourself.”
Anger sparked, sharp and bright. “Did it work?”
“No,” he said immediately. “Because that’s not what I saw.”
I looked up.
“I saw you show up,” he said. “Over and over. For Ariel. For the club. For people you didn’t even know.”
My throat tightened.
“They don’t understand that freezing doesn’t mean quitting,” Scout went on. “It just means your brain needed a second to catch up.”
I swallowed. “Sunshine didn’t get a second. Did she?”
Scout’s expression sobered.
“No,” he said. “She fought anyway.”
My heart dropped. “They killed her.”
Scout held my gaze. Didn’t soften it. Didn’t dodge it.
“Yes,” he said. “They did. Because she made noise. Because she didn’t disappear quietly. They were angry about that.”
The words settled heavy and final.
Not imagined.
Not feared.
Confirmed.
I nodded once, like my body needed the motion to accept it. “Ariel said she wouldn’t go quietly,” I murmured. “That she was stubborn as hell.”
Scout’s mouth twitched faintly. “That tracks.”
I exhaled slowly. “Forgetting her would be easier. And I don’t think easy is the point anymore.”
A slow smile tugged at his mouth. “You sound different.”
“I am,” I said. “I’m scared. I’m tired. But I’m not lost.”
He held my gaze. “Good. Because they’re scared of people who remember.”
Doc cleared his throat loudly from down the hall. “This is touching and all, but Scout needs to sit before he passes out.”
Scout grimaced. “Rude.”
Wrecker stepped closer, a steady presence at my back. He didn’t interrupt. Just listened.
“You did good,” Scout said quietly. “Both of you.”
Wrecker nodded once. “Get some rest.”
I stepped back, exhaustion finally settling in.
