Not in a way anyone else would pick up on, but I see it in the micro-shifts, the way his attention sharpens every time she moves, the way his body stays coiled even when he looks still.
And underneath that, the fear.
It’s there.
Raw.
Unfiltered.
He’s just buried it under something colder. Something more dangerous. Something that looks a hell of a lot like the man his family has always expected him to become.
Lia shifts slightly in front of me. I feel it more than see it. That subtle tension. That quiet tightening.
“I feel… stuck,” she says.
The words are soft. But they land like something heavy. Jackson’s hand stills against her. Elijah goes quiet on the phone.
And I feel it.
That moment.
That pressure point.
Where everything we’ve been doing collides with what she actually needs. She glances between us, something in herexpression caught between frustration and something softer, something more uncertain.
“I just need to do something,” she continues. “I can’t keep sitting here like this.”
I already know what Elijah is going to say. I know it before the word leaves his mouth.
“No.”
It’s immediate.
Final.
Controlled.
And I see it. The way her shoulders shift. The way something in her pulls back just slightly.
Not fully.
But enough.
And that’s it. That’s where everything settles into clarity. We’re not helping her move forward. We’re holding her in place.
“We can all go,” I say.
Elijah’s gaze snaps to me, sharp, immediate.
“No. She’s not leaving the apartment.”
I don’t react to the tone.
I don’t push against it.
I just meet his gaze and hold it there, steady.
“We can all go,” I repeat. “She won’t be alone. Security will be with us. We control the environment. We control the time. We control the exposure.”
