Page 118 of Knight

"Knight."

I glance over at it, and look away when the pain in her eyes nearly breaks my resolve. "Last chance to tell me what really changed."

"I told you, nothing has changed." I force the lie past my lips. "This is who I am."

"No." She steps closer, the scent of her skin almost unraveling what little resolve I have left. "This is who you're choosing to be. There's a difference."

The sound of the garage door opening reaches us, and she straightens, her composure snapping into place like armor.

“Goodbye. I hope whatever you’re protecting yourself from is worth what you’re throwing away.”

She turns and walks away. Michael follows her. Car doors slam. An engine roars to life. Tires crunch against pavement.

She’s gone.

"Feel better?" Rook's question is barbed. "Now that you've convinced yourself you never cared?"

"She's alive, and she's safe, so yes, I feel great, thanks."

"Keep telling yourself that. Maybe some day you'll believe it."

Fresh pain radiates from my shoulder and my side. A reminder of everything I’ve thrown away. I need to change the bandages, and take something for the pain. But all I can do is sit here, the sound of her leaving replaying in my head like a fucking funeral march.

"You should rest." Rook's voice allows no argument. "Unless you're planning to make more spectacularly stupid decisions today?"

“Oh, I don’t know. I was thinking of maybe going for a jog or wrestling a bear.” My sarcasm is weak, but it’s the only defense I have left. “But sure, let’s go with rest.”

“You should?—”

“I’m fine. Leave it alone, Rook.”

"You're not fine." He steps closer, stooping to peel back the gauze on my shoulder. "You haven't been fine since the first moment she walked through your door."

He gives the bed a pointed look. I sigh, and stand, allowing him to help me back to the bed.

"Take some painkillers and sleep." Rook straightens. "Or don't. But you need to rest before you collapse."

“You know, I really love these pep talks. So uplifting.” But I can’t hide the pain and exhaustion that’s threatening to drag me under. “I’ll be sure to send you a thank-you card.”

He doesn’t reply, but his disgust is hard to miss. Mostly by the fact he walks out, and leaves me there, surrounded by evidence of everything I've thrown away. Of every connection I've severed. Of every wall I've rebuilt stronger than before.

Outside, birds continue their morning songs like nothing significant just happened. Like I haven't just destroyed the one real connection I've allowed myself in years. Like my chest isn't being hollowed out with every breath she takes further away from me.

This is survival.

This is protection.

This is necessary.

I repeat the words until they almost sound true.

Almost.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

Evangeline

The heated leatherseat burns against my back as Bishop’s SUV pulls away from the safehouse, the engine’s low growl drowning out the thoughts screaming in my head. My fingers trace invisible patterns over my jeans, anything to focus on besides the hollow void inside my chest where something vital used to live.

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