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Then he says, “You’re not what I expected.”
I smirk. “I’d hate to be predictable.”
He huffs a laugh, and I tuck my legs up under me, leaning back against the cold stone wall. Outside, the wind shifts. Distant murmurs of movement stir beyond the ruined courtyard. Something’s coming. But not yet.
For now, I let my eyes close. Just for a moment. Just long enough to breathe.
He hasn’t said much in the last ten minutes. Just drinks his beer, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the broken archway, as if it holds all the answers he’s too tired to chase.
I don’t press. That’s not why I’m here.
But the silence makes room for something else—something I’ve been thinking about since the Trial. Since that moment he cornered me, eyes cold and voice so casual, as if he wasn’t offering to unmake me in exchange for distance.
“You remember the deal?” I ask softly, not looking at him.
His posture shifts slightly. He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t need to.
“Back in the Trial,” I continue, fingers tightening around the glass bottle. “You said if I slept with you, you’d leave me alone. That was your offer. One night. One favor.”
Ambrose finally turns to me, slowly, like he's waiting for the punchline again. “You declined.”
“I offered a different favor,” I say. “One you haven’t used.”
He studies me, unreadable. But I see the flicker. The weight behind the stare. The way he tries to stay detached but doesn’t quite manage it.
“I’m not here to collect,” I say, shrugging. “But maybe you are. And if you are—fine. You can have it.”
His brow lifts, faintly. “Just like that?”
I meet his eyes. “Just like that.”
He leans forward, elbows on knees, voice low and too smooth. “So you’re offering yourself to me now?”
I don’t flinch. “I’m offering you a choice. No strings. No expectations. I don’t want anything from you, Ambrose. But ifyouwant something? I’m not going to pretend I don’t understand why.”
He exhales, eyes narrowing, like I’ve ruined his game by playing it better than he expected.
“I don’t need a rebound,” he says finally.
I nod. “That’s not what I said. I said I’d let you have it. If you need it.”
His gaze drops to the bottle in his hand. Then back to me.
“You confuse me,” he murmurs.
“Good.”
Another beat of silence stretches between us.
Then he says, “This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.”
“Maybe not. But nothing about us ever has.”
And I don’t mean us, like a couple. I mean us—the Sins, the bindings, the unraveling fate knotted in our blood. None of this was ever meant to make sense. But I’ve stopped waiting for clarity. All I want now is control over the parts Icangive freely.
I don’t say anything more. I’ve given him space to think about it, the offer, the power I handed over without asking for anything in return.
But I can feel him watching me. Not with hunger. With calculation.