Page 41 of Twisted Steel

“Yes.”

“Sounds exhausting.”She huffs out a tired breath.

“It keeps people alive,” I point out.

“It also keeps you trapped.”That’s much too close to home for me.

I look at her, and she’s watching me now, not the hall.Studying my face like I’m one of her patients and she’s trying to figure out where the bleeding is hidden.

“Don’t,” I say.

“Don’t what?”

“Look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you can fix me.”

She stops outside her room and turns fully.“I don’t think I can fix you.”

“Good.”

“I think you’d bite me if I tried.”

“Probably.”

“And I think you’ve been bleeding internally for so long you forgot it’s not normal.”

Fuck.

That one goes under the ribs.The hallway is empty, but it doesn’t feel empty.Her words fill it.Her eyes fill it.That dangerous, unwanted softness she keeps pointing at me like a weapon.

“You should go inside,” I say.

“That’s called deflection.”

“Yes.”

“At least you admit it.”

“I don’t lie.”

“No,” she says quietly.“You just avoid.”

My jaw tightens.

She opens the door but doesn’t step through.Her room is dim behind her, the lamp casting a soft yellow circle over the bed and the duffel she never fully unpacked.Temporary, she’d called this, but Reaper said her name.

Temporary is dead.

“I’ll be outside the door,” I tell her.

Her brows pull together.“All night?”

“Yes.”

“That’s insane.”