"Because whatever this thing is between us—this terrifying, overwhelming, soul-deep connection—it's real. And I would never,everdo anything to hurt you."
Silence.
His amber veins flicker.
"That is not a sufficient answer," he says.
"What?"
"Emotional attachment is not a reliable predictor of behavior under financial duress. You could care about me and still betray me if the circumstances were desperate enough."
I feel something crack inside my chest.
"You're analyzing me," I whisper. "Like I'm a security risk."
"You are a security risk."
"I saved your life!"
"And I am grateful." His voice is completely flat. "But gratitude does not override operational security protocols."
I take another step back.
My hands are shaking.
"You don't trust me," I say.
"I do not trust anyone."
"Not even me?"
"Especially not you."
The words are a knife between my ribs.
"Why?" I ask. My voice is barely audible. "Why especially me?"
He's silent for a long moment.
Then he says, "Because you matter."
His voice cracks slightly on the last word.
"You matter more than anyone has mattered in eight hundred years. And that makes you the greatest vulnerability I have ever had. So yes, I am analyzing you. I am dissecting your motivations. I am running threat assessments and contingency protocols. Because if you betray me—"
He stops.
His entire body goes rigid.
"If you betray me," he says quietly, "it will destroy me."
I stare at him.
At the way his hands are clenched into fists.
At the way his wings are trembling.
"So you're pushing me away," I say. "Before I have the chance to hurt you."
