"To control you."
"To make me his spy." My voice went flat, emotionless. The only way I could get through it. "He had me kidnapped by the Trogvyk. Put me in exactly the right spot for theBardagato rescue me. He knew I was smart enough to work my way up in the Alliance. So he gave me ways to gather intel."
"And you did it."
"I did it." The shame of it still burned. "I sent him information. Betrayed people who trusted me. All to keep Ana and Sebastian alive."
Ahrick was quiet for a long moment. Then: "You did what you had to do."
"Did I?" I looked up at him. "Or did I just take the easy way out? Maybe I should have—"
"No." His hand found mine again, stopping my spiraling thoughts. "You protected your family. There's no shame in that."
"I betrayed Jala. The Prime. Everyone who—"
"You survived." His grip tightened. "You did what you had to do to keep the people you love safe. That's not weakness, Merrilee. That's strength."
Something in my chest loosened. Just a little.
"He needs to die," I said quietly.
The words came out steady. Certain. Because that was the one thing I knew with absolute clarity. Declan Hewes needed to stop breathing.
"He will." Ahrick's voice was absolute. "I promise you, he will."
"I want to be the one to do it."
"I know." His voice was gentle. Understanding. "And you have every right to feel that way." He pulled my hand closer, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. "But you're not going to kill him."
My hands started shaking. The tremor ran through my fingers, up my arms, into my chest where it rattled against my ribs like something trying to break free.
"Ahrick—"
"Promise me." His eye locked on mine. "Promise me you won't try to kill him yourself."
"Why not?" The words came out sharp. Defensive. "I have every right—"
"Because you don't need that blood on your soul." His voice was fierce. Protective. "You've been through enough. Carried enough. Let me carry this."
"Why?" I asked, and my voice cracked on the word. "Why does it matter whose hands—"
"Because I've done things, Merrilee." There was something raw in his voice now. "Terrible things. One more won't make a difference. But you—you're not like me. You're good. You're—"
"I'm not good." The words burst out of me, sharp and bitter. A reflex. A shield. "I'm broken. Damaged. I've betrayed everyone who trusted me. I've—"
"You're perfect."
I stopped breathing. Stopped thinking. Just stared at him while those two words echoed in my skull.
Perfect.
Me.
The woman who'd sold out her friends. Who'd sent classified intelligence to a human trafficker allowing him to ruin untold lives. Who'd looked Jala in the eye every day and lied. Who'd been so stupid, so blind, that she'd fallen for Declan's manipulation in the first place.
Perfect.
He said it so simply. So certainly. Like it was just a fact. Like all the broken, complicit, damaged parts of me didn't matter. Like he saw past the shame and the guilt and the self-loathing to something I couldn't see myself.
