“Do you want me to scream?” she asks, her voice nearly a whisper. “Cry? Fall apart so you can feel justified about what you’re going to do?”
“No,” Silas says just as quietly.
I don’t even have the time to ask her what we’re about to do because she keeps talking.
“Good. I didn’t think you would.” She sets her fork down and stands, moving to the sink. “Listen. I’m not broken, so there’s nothing to fix in me. But I am done playing nice, and that comes with… Possibilities.”
Resolve. That’s what we’re seeing.
She’s made a decision about something, and we’re getting two options. Are we along for the ride? Or are we in her way?
I lean against the table and observe her washing her dishes, back turned to us like she doesn’t have a worry in the world. We would never hurt her, but I get the feeling she isn’t threatened either. She’s been like this since we met her, and I’ve never quite put my finger on why. Or how…
“You do realize, when you say strategy meeting, that implies plans,” I remark, the last of my frustration bleeding away with all my energy. “Contingencies. Lines that might get crossed. Consequences.”
Her eyes flick to mine in a look so sharp I catch myself leaning back.
“I know what it means,” she tells me. “I’m just wondering how far you guys are actually willing to go to solve problems. Does it stop at cyber-stalking? Or is that where it begins?”
The question sits there, a landmine waiting for one of us to step on it.
Kieran straightens. Silas doesn’t move, but the muscle along his jaw ticks.
I don’t look away from her.
“As far as it takes,” I say carefully. “But don’t confuse that with us deciding for you. However you want to handle your problem with?—”
“I don’t need you to save me,” she interrupts. Her smile softens just a fraction as she shakes her head. “That’s not even close to what I need. Or what I want.”
“No,” Kieran agrees. “You need allies with a common goal.”
“Are you ready to be that?” Eris asks him, and for a moment she looks genuinely thoughtful, as if there’s something else she wants to say, but isn’t sure she should. “Do we have common goals?”
Silas huffs a humorless laugh. “Eris, you walked into our lives like an explosion, and now you’re turning the kitchen into a war room. Tell us what you want.”
“Are you hungry?” She nods toward the stove. “You should eat before we plan casualties. I’ll cook.”
“You’re terrifying.” I sigh in exhaustion as I pull out a chair and drop into it. “And it’s ridiculous that I find it hot.”
She scoffs, though it sounds more sarcastic than disbelieving. “Didn’t I tell you I was your type?”
