Nine was still curled up beneath the sheets, one arm thrown lazily across the pillow I had just vacated.
His lips were slightly parted, breath warm, lashes resting soft against pale skin. It was the kind of softness I wouldn't dare disturb—except I couldn't resist.
I leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
He didn't stir, not exactly. Just shifted slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching like he knew I was there. Like he didn't need to open his eyes to feel me.
You're disgustingly soft for him, Nyx drawled, her voice tinged with amusement.
And?
I didn't say stop.
I smiled faintly, pulled the blanket back over Nine's shoulder, and slipped out the door as quietly as I could.
My office was still dim when I stepped in, the heavy curtains filtering the morning sun into soft golden streaks across the floor. I sat down at my desk and powered on the sleek black monitor.
I hadn't checked my personal accounts in weeks.
Not because I didn't care, but because… well, when you were Supreme, money wasn't exactly something you worried about. You just commanded, and things happened.
But that shelter had taken me in when I was nothing. When Kade had thrown me away. When I hadn't known how to stand, much less lead.
They'd sheltered me. Fed me. Believed me—even when I didn't believe in myself.
And I had promised, silently, to never let them suffer again.
The banking interface loaded. I ignored the numbers at the top of the screen—absurd figures that meant less to me now than ever—and went straight to the outgoing transfers.
There it was.
A steady stream of payments, month after month.
Not just the basics. I had arranged for medical shipments, new mattresses, upgraded security, water filtration systems, even a few extra luxuries like warm blankets and solar-powered lanterns.
But still…
Was it enough?
The screen flickered gently as I opened a second tab—pulling up the account linked to the shelter's supply requisitions. I scanned the requests. Mostly modest. A few marked "urgent," but they'd always been fulfilled in time.
They're surviving, Nyx said softly. You've made sure of that.
But are they thriving?
I sat back in the chair and rubbed my temple. "I should visit," I murmured aloud.
You haven't been there in almost a year.
I swallowed. "I know."
Nyx didn't chastise me for it. She didn't need to.
My thoughts were already drifting to Mira.
She must be… what, ten now?
Maybe taller. Probably still messy. Definitely still mouthy.
I let out a small laugh under my breath.
I could still picture her glaring at me from beneath a tangled mess of curls, arms crossed, ready to fight the world over her piece of bread. She had been a tiny, feral thing. And I had loved her instantly.
I wondered if she still had the little music box I'd left behind. If she remembered me at all. If any of them did.
It was selfish, maybe.
But I missed them.
Not just Mira. All of them. The cramped halls. The scratchy blankets. The way the kids would cluster around the radio when the static cleared for long enough to catch a song.
It wasn't a perfect place.
But it had been home. Once.
You're not the same girl who ran there bleeding, Nyx whispered. And they're not the same either.
I nodded to myself, staring at the screen.
But I still owed them.
I pulled out a notepad and scribbled down a few notes—arrangements for new supplies, an updated heating system, a few educational modules for the older kids.
I'd send the request to Kol later.
I owed them more than just money.
I owed them a visit.
And Mira… I wanted to see how she'd grown. I wanted her to see that I kept my promise. That I hadn't forgotten.
I sat back in my chair and sighed.
Outside, the sun rose higher, casting sharp golden angles through the curtain.
And somewhere down the hall, Nine stirred, his bond brushing sleepily against mine like a hand reaching in the dark.
Go to him, Nyx said gently. He'll worry if you don't.
I know.
I saved the files, shut off the monitor, and stood—heart a little heavier, but steadier.