“Baz,” I say as a warning.
“You were holding back.”
I take a slow sip of my coffee, trying to hide the fact that he’s too close to the truth. I damn near spit it out when the lukewarm liquid hits my tongue, but I force myself to swallow it down.
“How the hell do you know?”
“Because I’ve seen you do worse to people who deserved less.”
My shadows ripple along the wall behind me.
He’s not wrong.
They can do far more than what I subjected Cason to. What he experienced was barely scratching the surface.
My shadows respond to my emotions, my instincts, my intentions. Over the years, I’ve learned how to shape them, refine them, push them into forms that make them more precise. Like hands and arms. Fingers that can curl around a throat ordig into muscle or hold someone perfectly still while I decide what to do with them.
They’re an extension of me. Sometimes they feel more like me than the rest of my body does.
But using them like that…
It’s different. More personal, more intimate. And the thought of wrapping those shadows around Cason like that…of letting them move across his skin the way they briefly did when I wasn’t paying enough attention…
I fear I’d lose control in a different kind of way.
Sebastian is still watching me. When I haven’t responded, he says, “We’re partners, Reese. You’re supposed to be able to tell me anything.”
Again, he’s right.
I set my mug down and take a long breath before meeting his concerned gaze.
“I can’t, Baz. Not about this. Not…not right now.”
He stares at me in silent contemplation for a moment longer before he nods, accepting it. That’s how much trust we’ve built in one another over the years.
“Alright. I’ll let it go.For now. But no matter what it is, I’ve always got your back, Reese. You know that, right?”
“I know.”
I lay my hand on his shoulder and give it a squeeze before picking up my mug and emptying the contents into the sink. Stepping across the kitchen, I pick up the coffee pot and pour myself a fresh cup. All the while, trying to forget the truth in those words…
You were holding back.
I was. Not because I couldn’t push harder, but because part of me was afraid of what would happen if I did. Afraid of how easily the shadows might slip from punishment into something else entirely.
I’m afraid of the things that still exist between us, buried under seven years of grief and death and anger and unfinished history.
The kitchen falls quiet again as I sip on my hot coffee. Somewhere downstairs, behind a reinforced door and several layers of concrete, Cason Bellrose is probably wondering whether I’m ever coming back.
My shadows try to pull me away.
Restless, curious, waiting.
I stare at the dark shapes pooling around my feet and let out a slow breath.
War is loud.
But, eventually…
