"Daylight," he says slowly. "You were standing in daylight. Through a window. The sun was on your skin, and you weren't burning."
Flash.Light pouring through glass. Warmth on my face. Wrong, daylight is death now. But I'm standing in it, and it doesn't burn.
"That's not possible," I breathe.
"There was a man watching you." Maximus's voice is strained. "He was in the sunlight too."
Flash.A man across the room. I know him. I know his face. Cruel smile, eyes that have seen centuries.
"Konstantin," I say. The name tastes like poison.
Maximus nods grimly. "Konstantin."
For a long moment, neither of us speaks.
Maximus's hands are still shaking.
"The pain," he says finally, his voice raw. "What she did to you, I felt it. Every moment of it." His jaw works. "I've been tortured, Celeste. I know what agony feels like. But experiencing yours…" He breaks off, and I see something in his eyes I've never seen before.
Helpless rage.
"It's over now," I say, though we both know that's not entirely true.
"It's not over. It'sinyou. What they did, whatever they did, it's still there. Those memories, that pain, locked away inside you where you couldn't even access it." His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones. "You've been carrying this alone. For months. Not even knowing you were carrying it."
"I didn't know."
"I know. That makes it worse." He pulls me against his chest, arms wrapping around me so tight it would hurt if I were still human. "I want to kill her. Valentina. I want to tear her apart for what she did to you."
I press my face into his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. "You might get your chance tomorrow."
"It won't be enough. A thousand deaths wouldn't be enough." His hand cradles the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair. "I saw you running. Terrified. And I couldn't do anything. I couldn't reach you, couldn't help you, I could only watch."
"That wasn't real. It was a memory."
"It felt real." His voice cracks on the word. "Feeling your fear,your pain, and being powerless to stop it. That's a particular kind of hell."
I pull back enough to look at him. His eyes are bright with emotion, ancient eyes that have seen centuries, now stripped raw by what he witnessed in my blood.
"Now you know," I say quietly. "Everything she did to me. Everything I couldn't remember."
"Not everything. There are still gaps. Shadows." His thumb traces my lower lip. "But I know enough. I know what she took from you. And I know…" He swallows hard. "I know you survived it. That you're still here, still fighting, stillyoudespite what they tried to make you."
"You sound surprised."
"I'm in awe." He says it simply, without embellishment. "What you endured would have broken most vampires. It nearly broke you, I felt that too, in the blood. The moment where you almost gave up. And then you didn't."
I hadn't known that. Hadn't remembered that there was a moment where I'd wanted to let go, to stop fighting. The knowledge sits heavy in my chest.
"I don't remember deciding to keep fighting."
"Your body does. Your blood does." He kisses my forehead, lingering there. "You chose to survive, Celeste. Even when you didn't know what you were surviving for. That's who you are."
I close my eyes, letting his words wash over me. Being known like this, truly known, down to the blood and bone and buried memories, should feel like violation. Like exposure. Instead, it feels like relief. Like setting down a weight I didn't know I was carrying.
"Thank you," I whisper.
"For what?"
