That’s… not nothing. It sits in my chest longer than I expect it to. I clear my throat.
“Okay,” I say. “But I’m not wearing a badge or anything weird.”
“No badges,” Delilah agrees.
“Good.”
“Yet,” Brooke mutters.
I point at her. “Don’t ruin it.”
That actually gets a real laugh from Marla. Small. But real. And I realize something strange. For the first time since all of this started?—
I’m not just reacting to danger. I’m participating in something structured. Even if that structure is built around preventing disaster.
Later that afternoon, Archer shows up. He doesn’t say much at first. He just stands in the doorway of the bookstore, scanning the room like he always does now—automatic threat assessment layered over everything else.
But then his gaze lands on me behind the counter. And he pauses. Just slightly. Like he wasn’t expecting me to look… steady. I notice. Of course I do.
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head once. “Nothing.”
“That’s not true.”
“It’s not important.”
I lean forward slightly. “That usually means it is.”
A faint exhale. Then he steps closer.
“You’re building something,” he says.
“Yes,” I reply. “Apparently I’ve been promoted.”
That earns a flicker of something like amusement.
“It suits you,” he says.
I tilt my head. “You don’t sound thrilled.”
“I am,” he corrects immediately. Then adds, quieter, “I just don’t like what it means.”
I study him for a moment.
“You mean the part where I’m not safely tucked away somewhere oblivious?”
“Yes.”
I nod slowly.
“Yeah,” I say. “Me neither.”
That gets his attention. I continue before he can overthink it.
“But I also don’t like being useless while everyone else is preparing for a war I’m standing in the middle of.”
A beat. His gaze softens slightly.
