“Yes.”
She swallowed audibly. “From the organization?”
I didn’t answer because I didn’t enjoy lying to her.
Her fingers tightened in my shirt, her nails digging ever so slightly into my chest. “Not everything can be solved by eliminating it.”
“I can solve most things this way.”
Addy shook her head. “That’s not the same as fixing them.”
“Fixingis not the goal.”
“What is?” Her tongue darted out, pink and perfect, wetting her lips.
“Control.”
She studied me for a long moment. “You don’t want control,” she said softly. “You want certainty.”
More than anything, it landed in a place I didn’t often let people reach because I had never been granted certainty. I had always built it with my own hands, piece by piece, threat by threat, until the world around me behaved the way I needed it to. Until nothing could slip through my fingers again.
“And yet you are neither of those things … But somehow still what I want more than anything else in the world.” I gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
The silence between us changed, becoming less combative but more charged. Her palm flattened against my chest, feeling the tension there.
“I’m not trying to undermine you. I just don’t want to be out of the loop. Alone and clueless.”
Her voice softened at the end, as though she hadn’t meant to say it out loud. For a moment, I caught a glimpse of something quieter beneath all the brightness.
Loneliness.
Not situational or temporary, but the kind that lingered and settled into a person, teaching them to fill the silence with noise, movement and words — anything to avoid sitting with it for too long.
“You’re not alone. You’ve got me. This system is delicate and based on structure. It’s like a house of cards: if one part collapses, the rest will too. If you knew what kind of threats and trouble we’re dealing with…”
If you knew how easily someone could look at you the wrong way and decide you were something they could take.
“Maybe you need a different system then.”
I huffed a laugh. “Yeah, maybe.”
My hand slid from her wrist to her waist unconsciously. Her pupils dilated, but she didn’t move away. Success in my books.
“You know you don’t scare me,” Addy murmured, never breaking eye contact.
“Mhhh.” I let my nose run along the side of her neck. “I should.”
“Probably.” She inhaled shakily. “But you don’t.”
My thumb pressed into the curve of her hip, anchoring her there. “You’re my priority, Little Devil. You’re not from this world and it’s my job to keep you safe. Ineedto keep you safe.”
Because you don’t always see it coming.
Because you assume the best before you consider the worst.
Because you walk into people like they’re harmless — and one day, one of them won’t be.
Addy smiled faintly. “That’s almost romantic.”