Nash’s gaze holds hers. “Then listen.” He gestures once, sharp. “We need to know if Deacon is sending men after you, or if Mother is. And once we know…we decide what we’re doing with the answer.”
Reva’s eyes narrow. “Decide what?”
Nash doesn’t blink. “If we protect you…or give you up.”
Reva’s face changes. She doesn’t cry. Something worse.
Betrayal—controlled and quiet.
Ever steps forward, threat in every line of his body. “No one is giving her up.”
Nash’s attention flicks to him. “You don’t get to decide that alone.”
Ever doesn’t blink. “It’s already decided.”
The air between them turns hot and thin. I finish off the final stitch and tie it off, then step in, not touching either. Just occupying space.
“Enough.”
Nash’s eyes flick to me, irritated.
I keep my voice even. “You want to tear each other apart, do it later. She’s still hurt.”
Nash’s jaw grinds, but he pulls back half an inch. Not much, but enough for now.
Reva looks at all three of us now, her breathing shallow, eyes bright.
She’s bleeding, confused, alive.
And she’s trying to decide if this—we—are a shelter or if we’re going to trap her.
Ever shifts his attention to her, voice lower.
“Why are you here, Reva?”
Reva frowns, and Ever slashes a hand, cutting off the obvious before she can spit it at him.
“I don’t mean your goal to kill Deacon—I know that,” he says, blunt. “I mean the reason behind it. The real reason. If we’re going to protect you, we need to know. Because this is going to keep happening while you have us in the dark.”
Reva swallows. Her gaze drops to her hands. Then she speaks, and the room goes quiet around the words.
“When I was seven,” she says, staring at the counter as if she can’t bear to look at any of us. “I woke up,” she whispers. “I heard…a noise. A thud. I don’t even know what it was. I just—something felt wrong.”
Her throat works. “I got out of bed. My sister was having a sleepover.” Her voice tightens. “I went to her room first. She wasn’t there. Her friend wasn’t there. And my parents’ room was empty too.”
Reva’s fingers curl on the table.
“So I went to the stairs,” she says. “We had this spot where you could sit back from the spindles and look down without them seeing you. We used to spy on grown-ups like it was a game.”
She laughs once—sharp, broken. “It wasn’t a game that night.”
Ever’s jaw tightens so hard I can hear it.
“I peeped down,” Reva continues, voice dropping. “And I saw my parents on their knees. Tape on their mouths. Blood on my dad’s face.”
Nash’s eyes go colder.
“I saw my mom holding my sister against her,” Reva says, and her voice breaks just a fraction. “Holding her like she could keep her there if she just held her tight enough.”
