“It was always yours.”
My chest aches, and I think of The Marrow House burning.Of the collar hissing in the tray.Of the black room that no longer exists.Of Sera and the fox girl and the others breathing free air.“I want to stay at The Gin Room,” I say.
Knox’s face stills.
“I want to help the rescued humans.Not as a symbol, a victim, or whatever inspirational bullshit Ari will absolutely put on a mug someday.I want to help because I know what the first night after feels like.”
His thumb moves over my cheek.“Okay.”
“I want darker curtains.”
“Done.”
“I want self-defense training.”
His eyes darken.“Done.”
“With you.”
A slow, dangerous warmth moves through the bond.“Absolutely.”
“And I want my own room.”
The warmth doesn’t vanish as I expect, it steadies.
“Of course.”
“But I also want a drawer here.”
His expression breaks into a half-smile.“You can have all of them.”
“One drawer, Knox.Growth.Boundaries.”
His mouth smiles.“One drawer.”
“And maybe half the bed sometimes.”
“All the bed.”
“You are bad at boundaries.”
“I am learning.”
I laugh, and he freezes beneath me, like the sound still has the power to ruin him.Maybe it does.
****
Aweek later, the newcurtains in my apartment are thick and dark.
Sera comes by The Gin Room with the fox girl, whose name is Lin, and both of them sit with me in the quiet before opening.We don’t talk about everything.Not yet.We drink tea, Ari brings pastries, and Korvin brings protein bars.Lin eats three and asks if Cruz is always that loud.
“Yes,” I say.
Cruz, from across the bar, yells, “I heard that.”
“Exactly,” Lin says, but she smiles when she says it.Small and real.
Aldron clears space in the building next door for survivors who don’t want to leave New York but can’t go home yet.Akasha and Krishka weave wards into the walls.Malichai sends money and pretends it’s not an act of kindness.Ari names the project Second Door because she says everyone deserves another way out.
