Silence. Heavy and suffocating. The kind of silence that presses down on your chest and makes it hard to breathe.
Then Asher stands slowly, controlled. Every movement deliberate. "Why?"
I shake my head. "Does it matter?"
"Yes," Zay says firmly, intensity bleeding into his voice. "It matters. She's eighteen. She's Ash’s baby sister. She's family. So yes, it fucking matters why she chose them over us."
I can't tell them. Can't say the words. Can't admit that Talia stayed because she knows what I did, that she's using my secret as leverage, that the Vipers now have ammunition to destroy everything we've built.
Once I tell them I killed Marcus, everything changes. Once they know, there's no going back. They'll look at me differently. They'll wonder what else I'm capable of. They'll question every decision I've made as interim president.
And Xavier—God, Xavier will never forgive me.
"She made her choice," I say instead, pushing the glass away. Water sloshes over the rim, pools on the table. "That's all."
"That's bullshit and you know it," Asher says, jaw tight. "Did they hurt you?"
"No."
"Did they threaten you? Are they threatening her?" Asher spits out the questions so fast I shake my head no before the answer fully forms.
"No, and no."
"Then what the hell happened in there?" His voice sharpens, frustration breaking through his control. "You left here fine. Determined. Ready to bring Talia home. You came back looking like you've seen a ghost. So I'm going to ask you one more time: what happened?"
I am a ghost. I'm the thing that kills and forgets.
The words sit on my tongue but I swallow them back. "I'm just tired," I lie. "It's been a long night. She said she's staying. She was—firm about it. There's nothing more to tell."
Neither of them believes me. I can see it in the way they exchange glances, in the concern etched into their faces, in the way Zay's fingers drum against his thigh—a nervous tic he only does when he's deeply worried.
But they don't push. Not yet. Maybe they sense I'm barely holding it together, that one more question might shatter me completely.
"You should get some rest," Zay says carefully, like he's talking to someone who might break. "We all should. We can figure out the Talia situation in the morning when everyone's thinking clearly."
I nod, not trusting my voice. Stand on shaking legs that barely support my weight. Everything feels wrong—my body, my mind,the air around me. Like I'm operating machinery I don't know how to control anymore.
I make it to the stairs, gripping the banister like it's the only thing keeping me upright. Each step feels monumental, impossible. My legs are lead weights. My lungs won't pull in enough air.
By the time I reach the bathroom at the top of the stairs, I'm barely holding it together.
I close the door. Lock it with shaking fingers. Lean against it and slide down until I'm sitting on the cold tile floor.
The memories won't stop. They play on a loop, crystal clear now, no longer fragmented or hazy.
I told him no. Begged him to stop. Tried to push past him. He grabbed me harder. Pushed me against the brick wall. His other hand started pulling at my clothes.
The pipe was on the ground. Construction debris from the renovation next door. Rusted metal, heavy, forgotten.
My fingers closed around it. Pure instinct. Pure survival.
I swung. Didn't think. Didn't plan. Just swung with every ounce of desperate strength I had.
He dropped.
And I ran. Left him there in the rain and the blood and ran until I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't remember.
I press my palms against my eyes, trying to force the images away, but they're burned into my brain now. Permanent. Unavoidable.