“I know patterns.” Lenrog turns the glass slowly between his fingers. “Ron spent his entire life trying to prove he belongs beside monsters. Men like me. Men like you.”
“I am not like you.”
“No.” Lenrog smiles faintly. “That difference matters tremendously to Evie. Less so to frightened observers.”
I ignore the comment.
“What happens next?” I ask.
Lenrog considers me carefully before answering. “That depends on whether Ron chooses humiliation or escalation.”
“He already escalated.”
“No. He provoked.” Lenrog’s eyes darken slightly. “Escalation comes later.”
Cold moves through my stomach.
“You think he’ll target her directly.”
“I think Ron is obsessed with proving himself stronger than fear. Right now, you are fear.” Lenrog leans back again.“Men like him mistake emotional attachment for exploitable weakness.”
“He touches her and I will kill him.”
“I know.”
The calm certainty in his reply makes my skin tighten.
Lenrog studies me for another long moment. “You would, too. That is the problem.”
“You speak as though restraint matters after that line gets crossed.”
“It matters enormously.” Lenrog gestures lightly around the restaurant. “Dead men create stories. Stories create alliances. Alliances create wars. Ron’s death would not end the Poison Memories overnight. It would fracture them. Some would flee. Some would retaliate. Some would decide Sweet Tooth represents the spark that killed their leader.”
“I do not care about their feelings.”
“You should care about collateral.”
My silence stretches.
Because again, damn him, he is correct.
Lenrog smiles slightly. “There’s the soldier. Thinking in casualty projections instead of rage.”
“You read people too well.”
“I survived by doing so.” He pauses. “Evie reads you well too.”
That lands softer but deeper.
“She looked at you in that bakery and saw suffering instead of weakness,” Lenrog continues quietly. “Do you understand how rare that is?”
I remember her face upstairs afterward. Furious. Hurt. Trying to wipe humiliation from my skin with trembling hands.
“She deserves better than this,” I say before I can stop myself.
Lenrog’s expression changes subtly.
Not mockery.
