Nine hadn't said a word since Emily was dragged away. He didn't even flinch when her blood spattered across the tablecloth. He just… sat there, too quiet, too still.
And when I'd turned to him—when I'd expected warmth or at least understanding—I saw fear.
Not the kind that made him curl into me for safety.
But the kind that made him recoil.
And gods, I—
My chest burned.
I leaned toward him, gently. "Nine?"
He blinked. His hands were folded in his lap now, shoulders curled inward, lips pressed in a thin line.
"Look at me, please."
He did. Slowly. Hesitantly.
I hated it. Hated that it felt like I was asking permission to reach him.
Nyx stirred sharply in my head. "Fix this. Now."
I didn't need her to tell me.
I reached under the table and laced our fingers together again, soft and loose. "Hey," I murmured, trying to smile even though my jaw felt stiff. "You're safe. I'm not angry at you. I never will be."
His gaze dropped to our joined hands.
I swallowed and leaned closer, lowering my voice to a whisper only he could hear. "I'm sorry you had to see that."
He shifted.
"I wasn't trying to scare you," I continued. "But I needed to make a point to everyone in this room. That no one gets to hurt you and walk away. Not anymore."
Nine's throat bobbed in a swallow.
He still didn't speak, but his fingers tightened around mine just a little.
That was something.
I tilted my head. "Do you want to leave?"
He nodded, barely.
I stood instantly and pulled him to his feet. No one dared speak. A ripple of silence followed us as we stepped down from the dais, across the gleaming floor, through columns and high arches. Out of the banquet hall.
Into quieter corridors.
Away from all of it.
The moment the doors closed behind us, I tugged him into a side lounge and turned to face him fully.
"Nine…" I said, and reached up to cradle his cheek. "You're scared of me."
His eyes welled—not with tears, but with that awful glassy sheen that came when he didn't know how to name what he was feeling. He looked guilty, and small, and so terribly unsure of himself.
"I'm not—" he started, voice thin. "I just… I didn't know you could…"
"That I could be cruel?"
He flinched.
I exhaled and touched our foreheads together. "I'm still me, Nine. The one who braids your hair and listens to you ramble about honey biscuits. I haven't forgotten who I am."
"But you smiled," he said quietly, "while she screamed."
I stilled.
Then nodded, once. "Yes. Because she made you suffer. Because she didn't regret it. Because she would've done it again."
He didn't argue.
I pulled him closer until he was nestled against my chest. His arms came around me slowly. Still cautious. Still hurting.
"I need you to tell me when I scare you," I whispered. "Please. I'll never be angry. I just want to understand."
His voice was muffled in my shoulder. "I didn't want to ruin your moment."
"Oh, baby," I breathed, sinking onto the nearby couch and pulling him into my lap. "You're never a ruin. You're the whole reason I survived this long."
Nyx's voice curled through my chest like a breeze. "That's better."
Nine let out a shaky breath. "I know you protect me. I just… I don't want you to turn into him."
The silence that followed was sharp.
I didn't pretend to misunderstand.
"I won't," I said. "I swear to you, Nine. If I ever become like him—if I ever hurt people for sport or pride or power—pull me back. Or run. Run far away."
His arms tightened around my waist. "I don't want to run."
"Then hold on to me," I whispered, placing a kiss at his temple. "Hold on and remind me who I really am."
He nodded, curling closer, burying his face in the crook of my neck like he couldn't stand even an inch of distance.
And this time, it was me who needed the comfort.