Page 97 of The Code of You

"He needs me,” I whispered. "I’m the only thing grounding him.”

What I didn’t say was that I didn’t want to leave. That it was impossible, because my body needed him like a drug. Because I trembled at night when he wasn’t there. Because without his voice, his touch, his gaze, I couldn’t breathe.

Isobel was quiet for a long time. Then she said, her voice breaking, "I don’t recognize you anymore, Pand. What has happened to you?”

"Isobel—”

"No,” she said, cutting me off. "You’ve made your choice. For him and against everything else.” A sob. "Against me.”

"That’s not true.”

"Yes, it is.” She paused. "I love you, Pandora, but I can’t watch you destroy yourself.”

The line went quiet. She had hung up.

I took the laptop back to the kitchen and set it in front of Neo without a word, then turned away. I wasn’t in the mood to fight with him.

"It was clever that you didn’t tell her where we are,” he murmured.

My mouth went dry. "You were listening?”

He didn’t move. He just held my gaze. "I told you: I am the connection.”

I went back to the bedroom. Heat burned across my face.

***

A veil of fog hung over the city as we entered the bar. It was in one of those newly renovated neighborhoods, with rough plaster walls, wooden chairs, and a concrete floor. Ice rattled in cocktail shakers, quiet music drifted from the speakers, and the murmur of conversation was low. No one looked up when we came in.

Neo held the door. I stepped inside, eyes burning, legs heavy. "Why are we even here?” I asked.

"You need to get out. Be around people.”

He was right, even if I hated admitting it. We’d been in Dreva for two weeks, penned into that shabby little apartment. Neo had fucked me in every conceivable and inconceivable way until my legs stopped holding me. But the isolation with him was driving me insane. Was I losing myself or finding myself? I couldn’t tell anymore. The boundaries between us had blurred because no one else was there to remind me where I ended and he began.

I stopped and raised my eyebrows. "Since when do you care about my mental health?”

He ignored the question. "Besides”—his voice dropped to a growl at my ear—"it’s more fun to possess you in public. When everyone can see that you belong to me.”

Electricity prickled under my skin. "I don’t belong to anyone,” I hissed, but my voice was too breathless to be convincing.

He only smiled, placed his hand at the small of my back, and steered me toward a table. His touch burned through the fabric. Everyone in the room would see it, would understand the gesture for what it was.

I draped my coat over the back of the chair. Neo remained standing, always watchful, his gaze moving through the room. I knew this mode: scanning the environment, identifying patterns, prioritizing risks. Tonight it irritated me, though I couldn’t have said why.

"What do you want to drink?” I asked.

"You choose.”

I shook my head. "You have taste. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

"I don’t drink anyway.”

"You could smell it. Or take a sip.”

He said nothing.

I stood and went to the bar. The man behind the counter was young, mid-twenties with curly hair. His eyes stayed on my face a beat too long.