Page 25

I pull back, shaking my head. "I can't just blurt out 'I love you' over coffee."

"Why not? Sometimes the simplest way is best."

"Because..." I twist my napkin into knots. "What if he gets that deer-in-headlights look? You know the one - when guys realize things are getting too serious and suddenly remember they have to wash their hair or feed their goldfish?"

"Jack doesn't strike me as the type to run."

"No?" I raise an eyebrow. "Then why hasn't he defined what we are? We've been seeing each other for weeks."

"Maybe he's waiting for you to bring it up."

The thought stops me cold. Have I been giving him mixed signals? Every time he gets close to something real, do I deflect with a joke or change the subject?

"Look at me." Becca's voice turns serious. "You deserve to be happy. And if Jack makes you happy, he deserves to know how you feel."

I trace the heart pattern on my coffee cup, remembering how Jack's fingers felt intertwined with mine. "What if it changes everything?"

"It will. That's the point."

The truth of her words settles in my chest. I'm tired of playing it safe, of keeping one foot out the door. Jack deserves more than that. I deserve more.

"Okay." I straighten my shoulders, determination replacing fear. "Next time I see him, I'll tell him."

"Promise?"

"Promise." The word comes out stronger than I expected. "No more hiding."

Becca beams at me. "That's my girl."

CHAPTER16

JACK

Ipace my apartment, the warning message from my superiors burning in my mind like a brand. The stark text on my communicator haunts me: "Final warning. Complete mission parameters or face extraction."

My fist clenches. They don't understand. How could they? We're supposed to be studying humans, learning their ways, but all they see are test subjects. Numbers. Data points.

But Vanessa... she's so much more than that.

I slam my hand against the wall, the pain barely registering. Images flash through my mind - things I've heard whispered in dark corners of Project Veritas. Humans disappearing without a trace. Memory wipes that leave shells of people behind. The underground markets where some end up, traded like commodities.

"Fuck!" The word explodes from my mouth, so human, so raw.

My communicator buzzes again. Another message: "Subject 2749 shows concerning levels of attachment. Recommend immediate intervention."

Subject 2749. That's what they call her. Like she's just another specimen in their grand experiment. Like she doesn't light up when she talks about art. Like she doesn't have that little crinkle in her nose when she laughs. Like she isn't the most real thing I've ever known.

I transform into my true form, getting a look at myself in the window - dark red skin, black eyes, horns. This is what I am. What she can never see. Because if she did... if they found out she knew...

The stories echo in my head. The "cleanup protocols." The "memory adjustments." The "subject relocations." Pretty words for ugly things. I've seen the aftermath - blank stares, broken lives, people who just... vanish.

Not Vanessa. I won't let them touch her. Won't let them turn her into another statistic, another "contained variable."

But how long can I protect her? How long before they decide I'm compromised? Before they send someone else to "handle" the situation?

I grab my phone, thumb hovering over Vanessa's number. One text. That's all it would take to start pulling away. To protect her.

My fingers shake. The words blur on the screen.