Chapter 10 #2
I call the security chief, get clearance to enter, and walk up the long driveway like I belong here, like I'm not sneaking around to see a woman who might not want to see me.
The house is dark except for a few security lights and the soft glow from the blue room's window. Her room. Where she's probably lying awake thinking about what happened between us.
Getting inside is easy. Henry's given me access codes for emergencies, and this feels like one. I move through his halls like a ghost, up the stairs, down the corridor, to the door that separates me from whatever comes next.
I knock softly. "Alastríona?"
Silence. Maybe she's asleep, maybe she's ignoring me. Can't blame her either way.
"It's me. Freddie."
Footsteps. The door opens a crack, revealing one blue eye and a mess of dark hair.
"It's late," she says.
"I know. I needed to see you."
"Why?"
"Because I'm an idiot who pushed too hard tonight. Because I wanted to apologize."
She opens the door wider. She's wearing an oversized t-shirt that hits mid-thigh, feet bare, reminding me that she's still young. She's only eighteen.
"You don't need to apologize," she says finally. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"I scared you."
"I scared myself."
She steps aside, letting me into her room, and closes the door behind us with a soft click.
"I wanted to," she says quietly. "That's what scared me. How much I wanted it."
"And now?"
"Now I'm tired of being scared. Tired of running from things that might be good for me."
She moves closer, and I can smell her shampoo, see the uncertainty in her blue eyes mixed with something that looks like determination.
"There's something you need to know," I say. "About tomorrow."
"What about tomorrow?"
"Trace is making his move. Tomorrow night, during dinner. We know when, we know how. But it's going to be dangerous."
Her face goes pale. "How dangerous?"
"Dangerous enough that I want you somewhere safe. Away from Henry's house."
"You want me to run."
"I want you alive."
She's quiet for a moment, processing. When she speaks, her voice is steady.
"And after? When it's over?"
"After, we figure out what comes next."
"Together?"
The question hangs between us, loaded with possibility and fear in equal measure.
"If that's what you want."
"I do want that. But I need you to promise me something."
"What?"
"That you'll come back. That you won't get yourself killed trying to protect everyone else."
"Alastríona—"
"Promise me, Freddie. Because I can't lose anyone else. I can't watch another person I care about disappear."
The vulnerability in her voice breaks something open in my chest. This strong, stubborn woman who's survived eighteen months alone is asking me not to leave her.
"I promise."
She nods, satisfied. Then she does something that surprises me—she reaches for my hand and pulls me toward the bed.
"Stay," she says. "Tonight, just stay with me."
"I don't want to push—"
"You're not pushing. I'm asking."
She climbs into bed and pats the space beside her. The invitation is clear, but not what I was expecting.
"Just sleep," she says when I hesitate. "I don't want to be alone tonight."
I kick off my shoes and shrug out of my jacket. I lie down beside her fully clothed, careful to keep distance between us. But she moves closer, curling against my side like she belongs there.
"This okay?" she asks.
"Yeah. This is perfect."
Her head finds my shoulder, her arm across my chest. She fits against me like she was made for this, like we've been sleeping together for years instead of minutes.
"Tell me about when you were young," she says. "Before Jer found you."
"Not much to tell. Street kid, no family. Survived by taking what I needed."
"Were you lonely?"
"Constantly. But I thought that was just how life was."
"And now?"
"Now I know better."
Her breathing starts to even out, soft and regular against my neck. But she's still awake, still holding onto consciousness like she's afraid I'll disappear if she sleeps.
"Freddie?"
"Mm?"
"Whatever happens tomorrow, whatever you have to do—just come back to me."
The words hit harder than they should. It’s a promise I don't know if I can keep, but one I want to make anyway.
"I will."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She relaxes then, letting sleep start to claim her. But her arm tightens around me, like she's making sure I'm real.
I lie there in the dark, holding her, feeling something I haven't felt in years. Peace, maybe. The sense that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.
This is what I've been missing, I realize. Not just the physical connection, but this. The intimacy of shared space, shared breath, shared trust. The feeling of mattering to someone, of being needed for more than my skills or my violence.
Tomorrow there'll be war, blood, choices that could destroy everything we're building. But tonight, she's in my arms and the world feels manageable.
Tonight, that's enough.
I close my eyes, letting myself drift toward sleep with her warm weight against me. For the first time in months, the ghosts stay quiet. For the first time since Jer died, the ache in my chest lessens.
She trusts me enough to sleep beside me. That's a start.
Tomorrow, I'll prove I'm worthy of that trust.