“Then why did you start it?” he asks.
I don’t answer right away, because the truth doesn’t come out clean.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say instead.
“It does,” he counters.
“It doesn’t change the situation,” I say. “We’re still doing the same thing. Same objective. Same risks.”
“Right,” he says. “Nothing changed.”
The way he says it makes it clear he doesn’t believe it.
I step back again, forcing more space.
“Good,” I say. “Then we’re aligned.”
He studies me, his gaze sharper now.
“You keep telling yourself that,” he says.
“I don’t need to tell myself anything.”
“No,” he replies. “You just need to walk away.”
The words hit closer than they should.
So I do.
I turn and step out of the alcove, the corridor air hitting cooler against my skin even though nothing about it has changed.
“Jolie,” he calls.
I stop, but I don’t turn fully.
“What?” I ask.
“You didn’t pull away,” he says, his voice quieter now but carrying anyway.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Yeah,” he says. “Keep telling yourself that.”
I don’t answer.
I keep walking.
Because if I stop?—
I already know I won’t leave.
CHAPTER 16
HRASK
The corridor tightens around me as I step out of the alcove, and the shift feels immediate in more ways than one. The overhead lights flicker in uneven pulses that cast jagged shadows along the metal walls, and the sound of the underlying systems vibrates through the soles of my boots in a low, persistent rhythm. Warm air presses against my skin, thick with heat from overworked conduits, and somewhere deeper in the structure, water drips in irregular intervals that echo just enough to distort distance.
I roll my shoulders once, forcing tension out of them as I step forward, letting my breathing settle into something controlled. My pulse still runs higher than it should, and the residual heat from that confined space clings to me in a way that has nothing to do with the environment. I drag a hand across the back of my neck, grounding myself in the physical sensation of movement, then push forward into the corridor with deliberate steps.