That’s me.
That’smine.
I don’t let it show. Gods, I can’t. Not now. Not here.
The two guards posted at the wall tense up when I glance their way, like I’m going to lunge or roar or flip a table. I do neither. I just let the silence stretch.
“Don’t say anything,” Isolde says suddenly, and her voice shivers through me like old lightning. “Not in front of him.”
Her grip on the boy tightens—not harsh, but firm. Tactile punctuation to words that already carry weight.
“I wasn’t going to,” I answer, voice low.
She narrows her eyes. “You don’t get to decide what happens next.”
I don’t blink. “Neither do they.”
My head tips toward the guards. Their fingers twitch closer to their sidearms. I raise a brow, and they freeze.
No blasters. No dramatics.
Just presence.
The weight of it.
“Captain Garokk,” the lead security officer mutters. His voice is stiff, programmed for corporate diplomacy. “You’re in violation of?—”
I cut him off with a look.
“I’m not here to argue statutes,” I say. “I'm here to leave. But not until I make sure she and the boy walk free.”
Isolde’s spine tightens just slightly at “the boy.” Not a twitch. Not visible to anyone else. But I know her body like my own breath.
Still, she says nothing.
No denial.
No admission.
Her silence confirms what her eyes already screamed on that blasted promenade.
But I won't say it. I won'tclaimit.
Because the right to do so isn’t mine.
Not yet.
The security captain clears his throat. “We have protocols.”
“And I have patience,” I reply. “But only enough forthis room.”
The boy’s gaze doesn’t leave mine. He's not hiding. Not flinching. Just...watching.Calculating. Like he knows something’s shifted, but not what.
I take one step closer.
Isolde shifts instantly, pulling him a breath’s width further behind her.
I freeze.
