I’m deciding.
That should scare me. It doesn’t. If anything, it steadies me. My shoulders drop slightly, tension easing in a way I didn’t realize I was holding.
The room feels different now. Not smaller. Not confining. Mine in a way it wasn’t before. Not ownership. Not like Cobra means it. But presence. Belonging in the moment.
A soft sound at the door pulls me from my thoughts. The handle shifts. He doesn’t knock. He never does. The door opens, and Cobra steps in. He pauses just inside the room. Not moving further. Not speaking immediately. Just looking at me.
I meet his gaze. And for the first time since I met him, I don’t feel like I’m trying to figure him out. I don’t feel like I’m reacting to him. I see him.
As he is.
Not just the man who pulled me out of a van. Not just the man who held me in an alley while my world tilted. Not just the man who punched Blaze without hesitation because someone else’s hands were on me. Something else. Someone I chose.
He notices. Something in his posture shifts. Barely. But I see it. The way his eyes sharpen just a fraction, like he’s reassessing something he thought he already understood. He closes the door behind him and steps further into the room. “Doc was in?” he asks. His voice is the same. Low. Controlled. But there’s a thread beneath it that wasn’t there before. Something watchful.
“He was,” I say. “I’m okay.”
He studies me. Not my words. Me. My face. My posture. The way I’m sitting. The way I’m breathing.
I don’t look away. I don’t shrink. I let him see me. All of it.
Finally, he nods once. “Good.” The word settles. Simple. Final. He doesn’t ask more questions. Doesn’t push. Doesn’t hover. But he doesn’t move away either. He stays where he is. Close enough.
“Did they find anything?” I ask.
His jaw tightens slightly. “Not yet.” That’s honest.
I expected nothing less. I nod once.
The silence stretches between us again. But it’s different now. Not heavy. Not uncertain.Full.
He watches me for another second. “You okay?” he asks. The same question. Different now.
Before, it meant:
Are you hurt?
Are you stable?
Are you going to pass out?
Now it means something else.
Are you here?
Are you staying?
Are you with me?
I feel the answer settle in my chest before I speak. “Yes.” The word comes out steady. Certain. Not forced. Not fragile. I mean it.
He sees that. I know he does. Because something in his expression shifts again. Small. But real. And for the first time since everything started, I don’t feel like I’m just trying to survive whatever comes next.
I feel like I’m standing in it. Choosing it. Owning it. And somehow, that makes me stronger instead of weaker. I hold his gaze. And I don’t look away.
The air between us shifts. Not sharply. Not like everything else in this world seems to. It’s quieter than that. Heavier. Like something just settled into place and neither of us is pretending it didn’t.
He’s still watching me. Always watching. Measuring. Tracking. Reading things I don’t say out loud. For once, I don’t feel like I’m being assessed.
