Page 143 of Interion

“Maybe, just maybe, I have to return a favor. I didn’t know what he would ask for. I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”

He clenched his fist and slammed it on the table, rattling all the china, including the centerpiece.

“Can you tell me why the hell you owe him something else? Something you didn’t even know what it would be?”

“Because I needed his help to properly reconnect Kaori’s brain,” I blurted out.

The next words died on his lips, which remained half-open in surprise. He hadn’t seemed this surprised at any other point in the conversation, not even about the blood pact. Before, he’d been furious with my entire account, but now he was utterly shocked. A deafening silence settled between us, almost palpable. He looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. His eyes seemed to hide other emotions, but the main one—the one that never wavered—was shock.

“You owed a favor to the worst possible person—a favor you didn’t even know what it would be—to help a patient?”

I swallowed hard and nodded.

“Do you know what he could have done with that favor?”

I shrugged. That didn’t matter. It was the only way to make the surgery work. A life was infinitely more important than any favor I could give. So many emotions ran through my partner’s turbulent eyes that I didn’t even have a chance to decipher any of them. I was too exhausted to try. He shook his head and waved off the waiter who arrived at the table with the wine. The rest of the time, while we drank, was spent exchanging half-glances in heavy silence.

After dinner, all plans for a fun evening were set aside. Zion extended his hand to me with all the composure he had left, and I accepted it. This time, the touch didn’t send electricity or flames, and even the shadows in my hair stayed still.

Chapter 36

We appeared on the living room rug, near Kiara, who was sprawled out. The moment he let go of me, I put distance between us. Zion watched me from the corner of his eye but didn't move, standing motionless in the center of the room.

“Aren't you coming upstairs?” I asked flatly as I headed toward the stairs.

“I'm not staying tonight. I have some things to take care of.”

And once again, it felt like we'd gone back in time to that first night we met in the kitchen. It was as if I had no idea what to do or say to make things better.

“Zion... Please, promise me you won't confront Serguei,” I pleaded, worry creeping in. What other reason would he have to leave at this hour, especially after everything we'd talked about? “Please, I don't want another fight. Despite everything, Serguei didn't hurt me. Wait until the birthday dinner, and then we can sit down and sort everything out.”

He seemed to weigh my request, considering the situation. It was obvious he'd been on his way to do exactly that. Then he sighed in defeat.

“I won't go to him before the dinner, unless he comes to me first, but I still need to leave.”

“Then where are you going?” I asked, defeated.

He avoided my eyes and bent down to stroke Kiara's belly. She was sleeping peacefully.

“I need some time.”

“Time for what? Are you running away again?”

He didn't respond, and I wasn't about to argue or beg. I just stared at him, and once again, the silence grew so heavy that he had to meet my gaze. I shouldn't have been surprised—he always preferred running to facing problems head-on. I let the silence press down on us, let it settle between us like a condemnation. I let my gaze harden, let him see that I was mentally calling him a coward. When the tension became unbearable, he opened his mouth to say something, but I turned away.

“Good night, Zion.” I climbed the stairs without looking back. “Sleep well, if you can.”

I didn't turn around, even as I felt the shadows stirring below.

Δ

Kiara paced back and forth with me—we might as well have been doing a synchronized dance across the bedroom floor. I don't know if she understood the mess I'd gotten myself into, but she clearly sensed my mood and my worry. I no longer knew what to think. All those years I'd spent wondering why he rejected me were finally being answered, and the information was driving me crazy.

Zion really wasn't rejecting me, and now his actions made sense. His disappearances, his coldness, his uncertainty—this agreement explained all of it. An agreement that could kill him if broken. I could even understand Serguei's side, because if Zion had stayed with me from the beginning, we never could have resisted giving in to this, especially at the start, when the bond was first discovered and created an uncontrollable frenzy. Serguei was right to keep us apart, because in that first year, there were so many times I thought about giving up—about overdosing on medication at the hospital until my heart stopped, or throwing myself off the cliff in the Silent Woods.

I spent hours staring at that precipice, imagining how easy it would be to just take one step forward, but I always retreated at the last minute, pulled back by something invisible that begged me not to give up. If the bond had been fully formed, I could have killed myself and taken Zion with me in the process. That's why I understood Serguei. My mind wasn't reliable, and neither was my body. When I first arrived, I was weak, and if I'd been attacked, I would have been defeated in minutes—I didn't know how to fight, and I didn't want to. I still wasn't an expert in combat, but at least I was better than I'd been five years ago.

But now, this agreement no longer made as much sense. I was no longer a weak point in Zion's defenses. Not that I was strong or untouchable like him, but at least my mind had stabilized and I was putting real effort into training. How long would this agreement last? Did Zion think about this every time he pushed me to train harder, to be more disciplined? Was that what he'd been trying to tell me?