We didn't speak as I carried him back to our room.
I didn't even realize I was holding my breath until the door slid shut behind us, silencing the world beyond. The warmth of the lights, the soft texture of the rug underfoot, the faint scent of his shampoo clinging to his clothes—it all hit me at once. Too gentle, too familiar, too forgiving.
I lowered us both onto the couch in the corner, cradling him against me like something fragile, something precious.
And then I sat there. Still. Unmoving.
Because for the first time in a long time, I didn't know how to speak.
Nine rested against my chest, calm now—but awake. Wide awake. I could feel the way his fingers curled lightly into the folds of my shirt, not clutching, not trembling. Just… holding. Like he was still deciding whether I was real.
Or if the woman he'd seen tonight was the imposter.
My heart ached. Not with guilt this time.
With fear.
Because Nyx was right.
I didn't recognize myself back there.
I had smiled—genuinely smiled—while watching someone suffer. I'd handed Emily the rusted fork without hesitation, knowing exactly what it would do. Knowing how many nerves lie between the wrist and the elbow, how pain could be dragged out like thread unraveling from cloth.
And I hadn't looked away.
Gods, I hadn't wanted to.
Nyx stirred but said nothing this time. She knew. She'd been there. She hadn't objected.
That was the part that scared me most.
"I was proud of it," I murmured to myself. Not loud enough to make Nine react, just enough to put it into the air. "I felt powerful."
He shifted slightly. Still silent.
I brushed my fingers down his back.
"I keep thinking… if I just hurt the right people, if I make enough of them afraid, then everything will stop. Then you'll be safe. Then I'll be clean."
My voice cracked.
"But it never really stops, does it?"
The silence felt endless.
I let my head fall back against the couch. "What if I become something you can't love anymore?"
Nine didn't move. But he pressed closer.
Not an answer. Not a comfort. Just contact. Just presence.
I inhaled slowly, trying to untangle the knot in my chest. "You saw it. You saw who I was at that table. And I… I saw your face, Nine. I know what I looked like."
My throat tightened.
"I know what it felt like when I saw him look like that. Cold. Unflinching. Like pain was a tool."
My fingers drifted to the place where his scent gland would've been if I had ever marked him—if I had ever let myself have that final piece of him. I hadn't. Maybe that was the last line I was too scared to cross.
Or maybe I already had crossed so many that one more wouldn't matter.
Nine's arms didn't loosen. Not even for a second.
I let my eyes fall closed.
"I never wanted to be a ruler," I whispered. "Just someone who could make things better. I thought… if I made people afraid of me, I could protect you from everything."
The softest breath tickled the curve of my neck. I almost cried from that alone.
"I forgot that you never wanted me to be perfect. You just wanted me to be safe." My fingers wove into his white hair, holding gently. "And maybe that's what I've been doing wrong—trying to become someone untouchable, instead of someone human."
Nyx finally broke her silence. "You are human. You're just also very, very angry."
I huffed out a breath that might've been a laugh. "Yeah."
"You've bled and broken for him. That doesn't make you wrong. But it makes you vulnerable. And that terrifies you."
I nodded slowly.
Nine's hand twitched—just once—like he wanted to say something but didn't have the words for it yet.
I didn't push him. I just kissed his temple.
Then rested my chin atop his head and closed my eyes again.
"I'll do better," I whispered. "I don't know how. But I will."
Nine didn't need to speak.
He was still here.
That was more than enough.