Because I did. Because I felt it. The difference between what he did to me before and what happened after. The shift in control. Felt the choice.
I rest my hands against him, no longer working, no longer fixing anything, just there because I haven’t moved them yet. Because I don’t want to.
“You stopped,” I repeat, quieter this time.
He holds my gaze.
“Yes.”
No hesitation or uncertainty.
“I will not take without?—”
He stops. The words don’t come cleanly. They’re not structured or easy. I wait. Because I know what he’s trying to say. Even if he doesn’t.
“Without what?” I prompt, needing him to say it.
He narrows his eyes, not in frustration, but in focus.
“Agreement.”
The word is precise and carefully chosen. It shouldn’t hit the way it does, but it does. Because it means he understands and that none of this is just instinct, or only need.
It’s me.
Something in my chest shifts again. Warmer and steadier. I still don’t pull my hands away or step back. Instead I lean in. Closing the space. Not all of it. Not like before. But enough.
“You had it,” I say quietly. His breath changes. “You just didn’t trust it.”
The words sit there between us. His gaze holds mine with no hesitation or pulling away. Something settles in him. Not the absence of that edge, more the control of it. And for a second everything is still again.
Not empty. Not safe. But steady.
Then the tunnel shifts. It’s subtle, almost nothing. A faint tremor through the stone, but both of us feel it at the same time.
His head turns, listening again, and the moment breaks.
“It’s still moving,” I say.
“Yes.”
He pushes up from the wall too fast. The movement pulls at the wound and I see the slight hitch. The tightening through his side.
“You need?—”
“We move.”
There’s no argument and no space for one. And I don’t give him one. I push to my feet, stepping in beside him instead of behind.
Matching him. Ready. Because whatever we just found—whatever shifted between us—it doesn’t change what’s coming. It just means we face it together.
20
LEENA
The tremor does not stop.
It rolls through the stone stronger, not a distant vibration but something moving with intent. Tracking, forcing, and adapting. I feel it in my bones before I hear it. Behind us, stone shifts, making way. I do not look back because there is no point, and I am too scared to see if that thing is on us.
