Adam’s jaw tightens. Hex has gone very still in that way he has when he’s listening to something I can’t hear. The temperature in the kitchen drops slightly.
“Private,” Adam repeats.
“Yes.”
We stare at each other. The best friend standoff. I’ve won most of these over the years through sheer stubborn persistence. But Adam has learned a few things since falling in love with a shadow prince. He’s learned how to hold his ground.
Hex breaks the silence. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Felix, would you set the table?”
It’s clearly a tactical retreat. A way to diffuse the tension before it escalates into an actual argument. I should be grateful. Instead, I’m just annoyed that he’s managing us both so competently.
“Fine,” I mutter.
I grab the cutlery from the drawer and head into the dining room. It’s a nice room. High ceilings, original cornicing, a table that seats eight comfortably. There’s a print on the wall that I gave them when they moved in, something abstract and dark that I thought would suit the space.
It does suit the space. Everything in this house suits the space. It’s all perfect and together and happy.
I set out the plates with more force than necessary. The clatter echoes in the quiet room.
The smoke ruined everything. That’s what keeps coming back to me.
The flat that burned was the first place I ever felt safe. The first place that felt like home instead of somewhere I was just surviving until I could get out. I grew up in places where safety was conditional and happiness was something other people had, and then I finally, finally had my own space. My own walls. My own door that locked from the inside.
I had a record collection. Vintage clothes I saved for. A life I was making for myself, piece by careful piece. For the first time in my entire existence, I had hope. I had a taste of what it felt like to be happy.
And then one moment of chaos and destruction, and my entire life went up in flames. Literally. My flat. My belongings. My record collection. My sense of safety.
All gone.
And for what? Because I was collateral damage in someone else’s war. Because Dis needed to draw Hex out and I was convenient bait.
I didn’t ask for any of it. I didn’t consent to being pulled into shadow politics. I was just a witch minding my own business, working at a coffee shop, living my life.
And then the shadows came and took it all away.
My hands are shaking. I set down the last fork, and grip the edge of the table.
I’m not going to cry. I refuse to cry. I’ve cried enough over the past few months. I’m done with crying.
What I’m going to do is finish what I started. I’m going to summon that bastard and bind him and make him understand exactly what he took from me. I’m going tolook him in the eye, and show him that humans are not convenient collateral damage.
I’m going to make him pay.
“Felix.”
I turn. Adam is standing in the doorway with two wine glasses in his hands and an expression on his face that makes my chest hurt.
“I’m fine,” I say before he can ask.
“You’re not.”
“I am.”
He crosses the room and hands me a glass. The wine sloshes slightly. His hands are steadier than mine.
“You don’t have to tell me what you’re working on,” he says quietly. “But I need you to promise me you’re being careful.”
I look at him. At my best friend who walked into another dimension to save the man he loves. Who learned to use his claws and stand up for himself, and to believe he is extraordinary. Who chose this impossible life and made it work.
