Chapter 29 Corvus #2
"Probably." She takes a sip of her cold coffee, grimaces. "But that's his choice. And my choice is you three. Fucked up, complicated, formerly-creepy-stalker you three."
"Formerly?"
"Currently-creepy-stalker in your case, apparently." But she's almost smiling. "Seriously, Corvus. A stakeout? In your Tesla? You couldn't be more obvious if you'd hired a skywriter."
"I parked across the street," I mutter.
"In direct line of sight of the window where you knew I'd be sitting." She shakes her head. "For someone so smart, you can be remarkably stupid about subtlety."
"I deleted the seventeen plans," I offer. "I only flagged his transcript for review, which is barely interference. The old me would have destroyed him."
"The old you also kidnapped people, so maybe let's not use that as the baseline for good behavior."
Fair point.
"I'm sorry," I say. And mean it. "For watching. For not trusting you to handle it. For being a creepy surveillance specialist."
"Are you sorry for delaying his transfer?"
I pause. "No."
"Corvus."
"I'm sorry for lying about it," I clarify. "For making you think it was coincidence. But I'm not sorry for buying us eight more days. Eight days of you being happy and relaxed and ours before reality crashed back in."
She's quiet for a long stretch. "The thing is, I get it. I understand why you did it. But you have to stop trying to control every variable. You can't manipulate people and situations to get the outcome you want."
"I know."
"Do you? Because watching from across the street doesn't exactly scream 'respecting boundaries.'"
"I panicked," I admit. "I watched you text with him all week, saw you smile at your phone, knew he was coming here to try to win you back. And I couldn't sit in the house wondering if I was about to lose you."
"So you stalked us."
"I prefer 'conducted reconnaissance.'"
"Call it whatever you want. It's still not okay." But her voice has softened. "What did you think you'd see? What was the plan?"
"I don't know." And that's the truth. "I needed to see you with him. Needed to know if you looked at him the way you used to look at us. Before we ruined everything."
"And?"
"And you don't." Relief floods through me. "You were kind. Gentle. But distant. Like you were letting go of something that mattered once but doesn't anymore."
"Perceptive, for a stalker."
"I've had a lot of practice observing you."
"That's not the flex you think it is, Corvus."
Despite everything, I smile slightly. "Noted."
She stands, grabs her empty cup. "Come on. Let's go home. The others are probably losing their minds wondering what's happening."
"You're not going to punish me? Make me sleep on the couch? Withdraw privileges?"
"What privileges?" She raises an eyebrow. "You don't have sexual privileges. You don't have claiming privileges. You barely have 'allowed in the same room' privileges."
"I have 'helping with homework' privileges," I point out. "And 'making coffee' privileges. And 'sitting in comfortable silence' privileges."
"True." She considers. "Okay, you lose comfortable silence privileges for a week. Every silence will be awkward and full of me judging you for being a creepy stalker."
"I can live with that."
"Good. Now come on. And Corvus?" She pauses at the door. "Next time you feel the need to conduct reconnaissance on my personal life, ask. I'll tell you what's happening. You don't need to spy."
"Even if it's about Ben?"
"Especially if it's about Ben." She holds my gaze. "I chose you. All three of you. That means something. Trust it."
I follow her out to the parking lot, watching her get in her car. She drives off first, and I stand there, processing.
She chose us.
Actually chose us.
Not because we eliminated other options or manipulated circumstances or delayed transfers.
Because she wanted to.
I get in my Tesla and head home, feeling something unfamiliar settle in my chest.
Hope, maybe. Or trust.
Or the beginning of believing we might actually deserve her choice.
When I pull up to the pack house, all three of them are on the front porch. Waiting. Dorian's pacing, Oakley's sitting on the steps, and Vespera's leaning against the railing looking amused.
"Took you long enough," Dorian says as I get out.
"I was having a conversation about boundaries and appropriate surveillance distance."
"Turns out there is no appropriate surveillance distance," Vespera adds. "It's all creepy."
"Noted for future reference."
"There better not be future reference," she says, but she's smiling.
We go inside, all four of us, and this is it. This is what it means to be a pack. Not control or manipulation or strategic planning. Choosing to be together. Choosing to trust. Choosing to believe that maybe, despite everything, we can make this work.
Ben Rosen is on campus. He'll be around, a constant reminder of what Vespera could have had.
But she's here. She chose here.
And for once in my calculating, strategic, surveillance-prone life, I'm going to trust that choice.
Even if it kills me.
Which it probably will.
But at least I'll die knowing she chose us freely.
That has to be worth something.