Page 121 of Dark Night of the Soul

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t afford to—not if I wanted her to keep going.

“I need to know if they’re okay,” she said. “I need you to take care of that for me.”

Her family.

“I will.”

I would burn down every shadow he’d left behind if that’s what it took.

I was already making plans to contact Silas, to get the Quiet Watch inside. To find out if there was more damage than we knew—bugs, cameras, whatever. My gut told me nothing there was safe. That someone was still watching, and they were closer than either of us knew.

And that meant she couldn’t go home until it was swept clean.

Tension eased out of her shoulders a fraction.

“Do you still want me?” She didn’t look at me when she asked it.

That told me everything.

“Yes,” I said.

I stepped close enough to hear her breath hitch. “I wanted you yesterday. I want you now. And nothing you did today changes that.”

“But I felt nothing. Nothing but satisfaction—”

“You’re not a monster,” I said.

“How do you know?” She turned toward me, her gaze lifting to mine.

“Because you’re asking the question.”

In the deepening twilight, the silver at her throat winked. Without thinking, I reached for her, ran my thumb over it.

Jerusalem felt like a lifetime ago. The shop was tucked down a narrow street I hadn’t intended to walk. I saw it in the window, nestled against white velvet, and stopped without knowing why. A guardian standing behind a woman who didn’t know she was protected.

An impulse. Nothing but a trinket. That’s what I told myself.

I’d given it to her on Christmas. In a quiet moment before the day started.

Just take it, will you? I’d said.

She’d looked at the box like it was poison, her hand shaking when she took it and opened it. And when she looked up at me, her eyes had darkened with something I didn’t want to name.

She’d thanked me. Wore it every day since.

It hadn’t felt like a gift. It felt like a truth. I understood now what that truth was.

“I didn’t give it to you because you needed protecting,” I said.

“Why did you?” Her voice was unsteady.

“Because I chose you. Then. Now.”

Now it was back where it belonged. Against her skin. Where I could see it. Where she could feel its weight and remember she wasn’t alone.

“He kept it,” I said, my thumb still resting against the silver. “Like he thought he’d won something.”

Her hand came up to cover mine. “He didn’t.”