Page 117 of Knight

I don’t need to ask what he means, and I don’t need to look at him to know he isn’t impressed.

“She got attached. It happens.” My voice is flat, disinterested. A fucking mask I’ve worn so long it’s fused to my skin. “Better to end it now before she builds it into something it’s not.”

“Bullshit.” One word, hitting like a brick to the face.

"Don't start." My voice comes out low, warning. "It was never going to work."

"That's not your choice to make." Rook's voice carries from the hallway as he steps into view. "And you can drop the act. We know you better than that."

"There is no act." My fingers curl into the armrests, the move pulling at the stitches in my shoulder. "She saw what she wanted to see. Built up some fantasy about who I am. Not my problem."

“You’re a fucking liar.” Bishop’s words cut through my attempt at indifference. “Every moment you spent with her, every look, every touch, every goddamn breath—you expect us to believe you were acting, that none of it was real? You don’t let anyone that close to you, Knight.”

“I never said I was acting. But if that’s what it takes to make her leave, then I’ll make her believe it.” My voice betrays the battle I’m waging to stay in control. “She deserves better than this life, Bishop. Better than what we are.”

“So you’ll destroy her instead?” Rook says. “Do you really think she’s safer if she’s broken? That you’re doing her some kind of favor?”

“Yes!” My voice breaks on the single syllable, my control splintering. “You’ve seen what happens to people in our world. What they become. What’s done to them.”

“And what about you?” Rook steps closer. “Do you think what you’re doing is any less dangerous? The lesser of two evils, maybe?”

I laugh, the sound humorless and sharp. “Oh, I’m definitely the worst option. That’s why she’s gone. Congratulations, you cracked the code.”

“Don’t be an asshole,” Bishop snaps. “You’re not fooling anyone, least of all us.”

“I’m not trying to fool anyone,” I bite back. “I’m stating facts. You want to romanticize this shit? Go write poetry about it. She’ll be safer without me.”

Footsteps approach from the hallway, silencing the three of us, and Victor and Michael step into the room a second later. They pause, the tension between me and my brothers thick enough to choke on.

I look up, meeting Michael’s eyes. “You should go and help your sister pack.”

“She won’t thank you for this.” He looks from me to Bishop, then back again. “She’ll never forgive you.”

"Good. Maybe she'll realize that her first impression of me was the right one."

Eva appears behind her brother, her features composed despite the redness around her eyes. The sight sends something sharp through my chest that has nothing to do with the bullet wounds.

"Michael." Her voice wavers slightly. "We should pack. Apparently we're leaving."

Her brother opens his mouth to speak, but she cuts him off with a shake of her head. He gives me one last look before following her down the hall.

"You’re a fucking coward." Bishop doesn’t bother lowering his voice. “All this bullshit about her getting attached? You’re the one terrified because she got past your defenses.”

"Think what you want."

"Teach her.Trainher. Show her what this life means. Let her choose with her eyes open.”

“Like you’re doing with Eden?” My attention shifts to Rook. “Or what happened with you and Magdelena? I won’t turn her into someone who has to watch every shadow, question every connection, live every moment waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

"Like you did to yourself?" Victor's voice carries decades of understanding.

Before I can answer, Eva reappears. Her face is a mask of composure, but I see the cracks—the red around her eyes, the tightness in her jaw. Each step closer twists the knife in my chest.

“We’re ready.” Her voice is steady, stripped of the warmth that used to set me on fire. She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t give me the satisfaction of her anger. She focuses on my brothers, discussing travel arrangements like I’m already dead.

The moment stretches, filled with everything I should say. Everything I want to say. Everything Ican’tfucking let myself say.

Bishop sighs, and walks out.

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