I shut my eyes. Tight.
Everything tilts. The floor feels like it’s giving way under me. My hand tightens around Dar without meaning to, and immediately I shift him, make sure he’s steady, safe. He rests his head on my shoulder, unbothered. Warm.
Mine.
He’smine.
“She should’ve told me,” I whisper.
“I know.”
I don’t yell.
I don’t punch anything.
I just hand Dar gently back to Verzius, who takes him without another word.
And then I walk.
Out of the nanny station.
Down the corridor.
Past the flight deck.
Out into the blistering light of a late-shift sky that feels too bright for how dark everything’s gotten in my chest.
The comm tower looms above the hangar bay like a sentinel, its glass face gleaming under the sun. I don’t even realize I’m heading toward it until I’m already there, hand on the doorframe.
I don’t want to think.
But I do.
I think about the way Dar clung to me without hesitation. The way his laugh sounds like Nova’s. The way he looked at me that first night like heknewme.
All those moments I didn’t question.
All those smiles I didn’t understand.
I was holding my son.
And I didn’t know.
I let myself fall into this second chance, thinking it was some cosmic redo.
Turns out it was a lie wrapped in a silence Nova didn’t trust me enough to break.
I don’t know why I walk into Stark’s hangar next.
Maybe because I need a target.
I need to hit something and he always gives me a reason.
He’s at the central console, back to me, analyzing something on a split-screen of anomaly patterns. The wormhole models flicker with false success.
He doesn’t turn when he hears me.
“Bad day?” he says, grinning without looking.
