“Two out of ten? Not zero?”

  Xeni pops his head out of the bathroom door and wiggles his brows at me. “I got at least a little enjoyment out of them.”

  I toss the clothes at him with a chuckle. He dresses quickly and runs his fingers through his hair to tame it before we walk into the hallway, hand-in-hand.

  Publicly displaying our affection is novel, even in the confines of this apartment. At Ljómur, people had their suspicions, and a few of our close friends knew we were a couple, but we were careful never to act like one in public. Something as innocent as holding hands could’ve sealed our fates long before Xeni’s slip. It’s such a small thing, but it brings me endless joy.

  We walk into the kitchen to find Cato washing dishes, but Ego has disappeared.

  “That was ten minutes,” the woman teases from over her shoulder, insinuation heavy in her tone.

  “Apologies, ma’am,” Xeni says, and I almost roll my eyes at the syrupy sweetness. “That was my… fault.”

  She turns around with a motherly smile, carrying two plates loaded with food.

  Xeni looks shocked. “You?” he finally whispers.

  “Sit and eat.” She guides us toward the two empty chairs. “We’ll talk over breakfast.”

  Xeni is still stunned as he drops into a seat and stares at the stack of pancakes in front of him.

  “You know each other?” I ask after I offer the woman a quiet thanks when she gives me a plate as well.

  “We met when I came into the city,” Xeni explains. “Cornelia, right?”

  “My friends call me Nelly.”

  She sits and gestures for us to eat, and the first bite makes me groan. Fluffy, buttery, and steaming, despite our delay.

  “She’s the one who pointed me toward Leif, so really, she’s the reason I found you.”

  “Technically we found you,” Cato points out from the sink, and Xeni pulls a face at him before returning to his breakfast.

  Nelly chews for a moment before smiling fondly at Xeni. “When I saw you walking in that marketplace, you reminded me of someone.”

  “Someone you knew?” Xeni asks.

  She shakes her head. “Not exactly, no.” She pauses, seeming to gather her thoughts before she continues. “I’ve lived in this city my entire life and have been a part of the resistance since I was in my twenties. Back then, we were a group of people who did what we could, but we didn’t put labels on anything, just tried to help when we were able.”

  “I met my wife a few years later. We didn’t understand what the marks meant for a while, but we knew to hide them.”

  She pushes her sleeve up to show us a mark above her elbow. The skin is raised and bunched in a way that signifies her mate died, like a scar that’s been healed for decades.

  She smiles at the mark before rolling her sleeve back down. “This apartment was a haven for mates trying to evade the military. It was used for bootlegging liquor in the world before, and the blueprints for the building never included it. It was safe, and we hid the doorway so no one would see it unless they knew it was there. We didn’t use lights at night, and were cautious of our comings and goings, but when the bakery opened downstairs, the traffic was easily overlooked. Dozens of mated pairs used this place as their sanctuary, but eventually, the resistance needed more space and moved. We loved it here, though, and my shop was doing well, so we made it a home.”

  Nelly takes a bite of her breakfast, so Xeni and I do the same while she collects her thoughts.

  “My wife got sick of waiting for information,” she continues. “She was always impatient and decided she would get inside the hornet’s nest, so to speak. Nothing I could say changed her mind, so I accepted it, even though I hated it. When she took that job, I had a feeling it would be her end.”

  She pauses, then glances at Xeni with tears pooling in her eyes. “I don’t think she would’ve had it any other way.”

  “What job did she take?” he asks gently.

  Nelly smiles as she wipes a tear from her eye. “She worked for a very important officer. Small tasks at first… cleaning his house and cooking his meals. She’d serve coffee at his meetings, and collected a lot of information. The plan was for her to get out before he suspected anything, but she learned something that made her stay. I wasn’t happy about it, but I understood.”

  “What did she find out?” I ask when she pauses.

  For a moment, she only fidgets with the edge of her fork as she stares at her half-eaten breakfast.

  “His wife was pregnant,” Nelly says, and she lifts her face to look at Xeni. “She knew that any child inside that house would have a devastating life, so she promised to stay as long as she could. We had so much love, she said, when he would have none. She was determined to show that child that there was more waiting for him out there in the world. Eventually, she became his nanny, and she loved that little boy so very much.”

  Xeni

  A million thoughts explode through my head as I try to process the bomb Nelly just dropped on my lap.

  “What?” I breathe, my breakfast forgotten as I stare at her in stunned silence.

  “It would seem the Fates put us in each other’s paths for a reason,” Nelly says, her smile wobbling. “Bheera would share photos of this beautiful child with porcelain skin and tiny little horns nobs poking from his puff of white hair. He clung to her, following her around whenever she’d allow it, and she had all these wonderful stories of the mischief he’d get into. So many times, she would come home late at night, laughing because he’d invented a new game to play.”

  Her eyes crinkle, and a newfound heaviness builds in my throat at the love that shines through her memories.

  “They usually involved a giant mess of some sort,” she adds with a touch of teasing.

  I open my mouth to say something, but how do you comfort the woman whose mate gave you your only glimpse of love in a childhood defined by hate? When she sacrificed her freedom for your happiness, and paid for her loyalty with her life?

  “Do you remember the time you wanted to make snow angels?” Nelly asks before I can form a single word.

  The long-buried memory surfaces, and I choke on a strangled laugh. “She read me a book about snow, but I had never seen it. I dumped flour all over the kitchen before she could stop me.”

  She nods with a chuckle, the sound warm despite the sorrow threading through it. “You both were coated in it, and it took her two hours to clean up that mess when you were done.”

  Guilt gnaws at my insides as I wring my hands. “I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t apologize,” she interrupts sternly.

  I purse my lips to hold it back. The instinct to take the blame is too ingrained to shake easily.

  Nelly shakes her head, still with that sad smile on her face. “She wouldn’t have traded those moments for anything, Xeni. She loved you dearly.”

  “And I her,” I respond quietly, the words slipping out on a breath that feels too heavy for my chest.

  Despite the years that have passed, Bheera crosses my mind often.

  Memories of sitting on the balcony, listening to faint music in the air. It carried from concerts in the park that I was never allowed to attend.

  I think of the days helping her in the kitchen and sampling new recipes as she told me grand stories of adventure I could barely imagine, then the nights where she nursed my wounds in private after I stepped too far out of line.

  She was the light in a house built for darkness.

  The hope in a heart that learned too young to expect none.

  The one who taught me that love could be soft and fierce all at once, without demand or condition.

  I close my eye for a moment and let the ache settle. Bash scoots his chair closer and wraps an arm around my shoulders in silent support, and when I face the world again, even Cato’s expression has softened.

  “It broke my heart when she disappeared,” I say, the words coming slower now. “I was never told what happened to her, but even as a child, I knew.”

  “Did anyone take her place?” Nelly asks as she resumes eating, giving me space to gather my thoughts, but my appetite is gone.

  “No. Father claimed he needed to replace the nonsense she’d put in my head, and for years, I never left the house.” I sigh as I sink deeper into the chair, pushing the food around on my plate. “He was determined to toughen me up, but his words and fists didn’t have the intended effect. So I was sent to military school when I was twelve, but that didn’t help either.”

  I stare out the window, a darker reel of memories replacing the fond ones of Bheera. “He never publicly acknowledged me as his son. I was too weak, he said. Too easily influenced, and too soft-hearted. He tried to make me more like himself… something colder to carry on his legacy.”

  I pause, shaking my head. “Sometimes I wonder if he might’ve succeeded.”

  “Xen,” Bash scolds from beside me, his arm tightening.

  Years of anger and shame form a ball in my chest, and the confession is like a lanced wound as it spills out. “You always say actions are what matters. Look at what I did. Top fucking scout for the Project. I made them tell me. Didn’t give them a fucking choice in the matter.”

  My hands shove into my hair and tug, the sting giving me a moment of clarity.

  “So many people, Bash,” I say, staring at the table. “They were pulled from their homes and shipped away to be locked inside those walls… all because of me.”

  Silence falls in the room, making the alarms outside seem so much louder in the absence of other noises. I lift my hand to trace the edge of my eyepatch, and my hands shake as the thought of a razor’s bite steals my breath for a moment.

  The guilt is rancid, charging my veins like sludge, and I wonder if it hasn’t rotted me from the inside out.

  Wonder if it needs to be purged.

  Bash repeats my name, too stubborn to leave me to my thoughts as he pinches my chin and turns my face to his.

  “We aren’t defined by our mistakes, but by what we do when we realize we’ve made them. You did what you could to make their lives easier, and then you helped set them free. Everything you’re doing now is to help.”

  “No, it isn’t,” I argue. “This is selfish, too, because I’m only doing it for you. The only reason I even came was to get you back.”

  “I don’t believe that,” he whispers as he pulls me into his neck. “Not for a fucking second, okay? Stop punishing yourself.”

  Nelly’s voice is stern as she speaks from across the table. “Do you think you’re something special, boy?”

  “What?” I say, lifting my gaze to hers.

  There’s no pity in her eyes, only fond affection mixed with a healthy dose of exasperation.

  “I never met your father, but I heard plenty of stories. That was his power, was it not? Convincing others to do his bidding, regardless of their intention?”

  “This is different,” I insist. “He didn’t command me to help him. There was no influence other than that of a father and the son who was desperate for his approval.”

  She hums, the sound unconvinced. “An influence, I’d wager, that is more powerful than you want to believe. Far older, more experienced people were caught in his webs. They did it for different reasons, sure. Fear or loyalty. Some have a hard time telling the difference. Others might have been commanded by him, as you say. Might’ve had their minds taken over by brute strength. At the end of the day, that matters very little.”

  “Tell that to the people I’ve hurt,” I retort.

  Nelly looks wholly unimpressed. “More words spoken like a child. He may have had a hand in shaping you, but that doesn’t make him your sole creator. It doesn’t mean he gets to rule you now. Stop granting him that power.”

  If only it were that simple.

  I’d give anything for it to be that simple.

  My breath saws from my lungs in harsh, frantic rasps as I fight the wave of panic that grips me. It’s like claws around my chest, squeezing until the world narrows to a suffocating tunnel. I suck in a ragged inhale that catches and stutters, and the air becomes elusive like I’m trying to breathe through water.

  Bash’s hand strokes my back in slow, firm passes, the familiar rhythm of his touch cutting through the chaos.

  “Take a deep breath for me, princess,” he murmurs. “Let it pass.”

  I nod but don’t dare to move as I struggle to get my breathing under control. The urge to dig my fingernails into my skin or pull on my hair is almost overwhelming, but Bash’s gentle touches and whispered words slowly bring me down.

  Embarrassment replaces my panic, and shame settles heavy in my gut.

  Nelly’s voice has lost its edge as she reaches across the table to place a hand on my forearm. “You escaped him once, dear boy. Don’t give him that space inside your mind.”

  I force a rough swallow. “That’s harder than it sounds,” I finally say.

  She breathes a sigh as she nods. “Indeed. Finish your breakfast. You’ll need the energy.”

  I obediently pick up my fork and take a bite, though the flavor is lost to the caustic anxiety on my tongue.

  “What’s our plan?” Cato asks from the sink.

  Bash watches me for another few heartbeats before he gestures out the window. “Things will be tough while the city is on high alert. I don’t want to inconvenience Nelly for longer than necessary, so we need to come up with a plan.”

  “Yeah…” Ego’s voice drawls from the doorway, and everyone turns to stare as she saunters into the kitchen. “Got some bad news for you, boys. These are plastered all over the city right now. Like, wallpaper level. Congrats, you’re famous.”

  She hands Bash a small stack of papers, and the top one has a very clear picture of my face staring back, with an artist’s rendering of the patch over my eye.

  “Wanted for high treason,” Bash reads out loud, “and multiple counts of murder. Fugitive should be considered extremely dangerous. Known aliases include Mikhail and Alexise. Last seen wearing military leathers. Extreme caution advised. Do not attempt to apprehend, only report sightings.”

  “That’s… not ideal,” I say.

  Bash grunts his agreement as Cato leans over his shoulder, way too close for my liking. Something ugly flares hot in my chest at how casually they touch, and I bite down on my lip, forcing myself to focus.

  “They don’t mention Zadeus,” Cato points out.

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” I mutter. “With how secretive they are about their identities, they’ll never admit one’s been injured.”

  Ego snickers. “We should make some posters of our own. ‘High Commander got his ass handed to him by his own kid’ has a nice ring to it.”

  Bash flips through the stack, and Cato’s face pops up next.

  Cato snatches it with a scowl. “What the fuck?”

  “Watch the papercut, asshole,” Bash mutters.

  Cato glares at his own smug portrait. “They’ve mixed me up with Gideon and slapped ‘escaped fugitive’ at the top of this laundry list of offenses.”

  Ego leans against the counter, popping her gum with a grin. “We’re all in there, boys. Sakane and Bash are still mugshot-free for now, but the descriptions are spot-on. Give it till sunset, and they’ll have sketches to add to the collection.” She purses her lips and taps her chin. “I wonder if I signed a few of these if I could sell them.”

  “Fucking fantastic,” Cato growls, shoving the paper back at Bash.

  “Well, we can’t go home now,” Bash says.

  Cato throws his hands up. “Can’t go anywhere in this damned city.”

  “Hey, Bash?” I mutter, chewing on my lip. “Can I talk to you in private?”

  Everyone else watches us, but he focuses solely on me.

  “Of course,” he says.

  He jogs the papers to straighten them before handing the stack to Ego. “Make sure Sakane isn’t getting into any trouble, would you? It makes me nervous when I can’t keep tabs on him. And Cato, help Nelly clean the kitchen.”

  Cato scoffs and rests his hands on his hips. “You’re seriously telling me to clean up after you and your boyfriend while you go make kissy faces at each other?”

  “Sure am,” Bash says as he flashes him a wide, sarcastic smile.

  Bash reaches back, taking my hand as we walk towards the bedroom we’re sharing. The sheets are rumpled in evidence of our morning activities, and it already smells like us in here.

  I release Bash’s hand and wander over to the window, peeking out of a tiny crack in the curtains as my heart pounds.

  He approaches slowly, tracing his fingertips along the side of my torso. “Xen?”

  “I want to be selfish,” I whisper. “Does that make me awful?”

  He tugs on my shirt in a silent request to face him, and a question waits in his expression.

  I bite my lip, glancing again at the deceptively cheery sunshine beyond the window. “My father’s wrath is aimed right at us, the alarms are blaring outside, and our faces are plastered on every corner of the city. That’s what I should be worried about, but it isn’t.”

  I take his hands, finding the bravery to face him. “The world is falling apart, and all I can think about is that it gives me an excuse to ask you again.”

  “Ask me what?”

  “To come with me, even though you aren’t safe with me—”

  “I am only safe with you,” he argues. “Only with you. Right here, holed up in this apartment, with the entire fucking military on our heels? I feel safer now than I ever did in the years I didn’t have you by my side.”

  “If you knew what was good for yourself, you’d say no. You’d run away, hide in the wilderness, and never tell me where you are. He will never stop hunting me.”

  “I know that,” he counters, voice steady.

  “I want you to say yes,” I admit, contradicting myself as the words spilling out against my better judgment. “And come with me.”

  He wraps his arms around my neck and tugs me closer. “My place has always been with you.”