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CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

Evangeline

"Keep still." I press the fresh gauze against Knight's shoulder, careful not to aggravate the wound. The bleeding has mostly stopped, thankfully, but I’m sure every tiny movement must hurt. Not that he’s showing it, of course.

Victor's stitches stand stark against his skin, one set marking his shoulder and the other his side. Even sitting still, he looks like he could collapse at any second. He lost too much blood before we managed to stabilize him. I’m worried that he needs a blood transfusion, although both Rook and Bishop insist he doesn't. But his skin is waxy and gray despite the dim light filtering through the windows.

Distant sounds from the kitchen—the faint clink of mugs, muted voices—filter down the hallway, but I’m too focused on the man in front of me to piece together who’s doing what. I assume that Rook is checking the perimeter again. He’s been especially vigilant since bringing Knight back wounded. Bishop has been monitoring police bands and news coverage, his focus split between updates and keeping an eye on Knight.

"Both wounds need checking again." I keep my voice soft, conscious of the early morning quiet. "Then I’ll get you something for the pain. I wish we could go to the hospital and get something stronger than over the counter meds."

He doesn’t respond. There’s something about his posture, a stiffness that doesn’t come just from pain. A distance that feels sharper than words.

When I move to check his back, he sways away slightly. The small movement shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

"Knight?" His clear withdrawal catches me off guard. "I need to make sure it's not bleeding again."

"It's fine." The words come clipped, carrying none of the warmth from earlier. He won't quite meet my eyes, staring at some point past my shoulder instead.

I study his profile, trying to understand this subtle change. Maybe it's just the pain, or exhaustion from blood loss. But deep down, I know it's not. Something has shifted between us in the last few hours, and I don’t understand what or why.

"At least let me check the bandage." I reach for his shoulder again, but he stands before I can touch him.

The sudden movement pulls at both wounds. I see it in the tightening around his eyes, hear it in the slight hiss as he sucks in a breath, and in the grimace he can’t quite suppress. But he doesn’t sit back down, and he doesn’t let me help.

"The bandage is fine." His voice remains neutral. "You should check on your brother. Make sure he's recovered enough to travel."

"Travel?" The word catches in my throat. "What do you mean?"

"You'll be leaving once Rook confirms the area's clear." His words cut like a razor. "No point sticking around for the encore. Pretty sure everyone’s had enough excitement."

"Just like that?" My fingers clench around the unused gauze. "After everything?"

"The mission is complete." His voice is flat, though the sharp edge of sarcasm is still there. "We did what we needed to, didn’t we? Found your brother. Destroyed the virus." His hand twitches toward the shirt, but he doesn’t pick it up. Even trying would pull at both wounds and likely send him back into unconsciousness. "Time for you to go back to your life."

"My life ." The words taste bitter. "You mean pretend none of this happened?"

"Nothing has happened." He faces me now, his expression blank. "Unless you count bad decisions and worse timing."

I search his face, desperate for even a flicker of the man who trusted me hours ago, but he’s buried whatever that was beneath layers of icy sarcasm.

"You don't mean that."

"I do. Bishop will drive you both home when you're ready."

Footsteps cross the hardwood floor as Rook returns from his perimeter check, unaware of the implosion happening in this room.

"At least tell me why." My voice wavers, a quiet plea slipping through despite my attempt to stay composed. "What changed between last night and now?"

" Nothing changed." His voice is sharp enough to cut. "This is who I am. You just fooled yourself into thinking it was something else."

"That’s not true." I step closer, desperate to break through the icy veneer. "The man who held me, who let me in, that was real . You can’t fake that."

"It wasn’t." His voice turns ruthless. "You can’t really think I’m some broken hero with a soft side you can fix? Wake up, Glitch.” His lip curls. “You saw what you wanted to see."

My throat tightens, but I refuse to let him see how much he’s hurting me. "Then look me in the eye and tell me you felt nothing. Tell me every second we shared was a lie."

"Pack your things.” He drops into the chair I slept in. “Go back to the world you had before all this started."

"Knight, please." My voice breaks, but he doesn’t react. "Don’t push me away like this."

His hand moves, gripping the edge of the chair like it’s the only thing holding him in place. His face twists, not quite regret, more like anger tangled with something else. Then it’s gone, his expression locking down like a steel trap.

"It’s better this way. You want to be safe. You want a normal life. I’m not it."

The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating, as his words settle between us. The warmth, the connection, the possibility of more, it’s all slipping through my fingers like sand, gone in the space of a single conversation.

Muted voices and the faint clink of mugs drift in from the kitchen, indifferent to the chaos unraveling in here.

I force myself to walk out of the room, my legs shaking as I grip the door frame for balance. The distance feels both necessary and unbearable, but I can’t stay and let him see the cracks forming. The medical supplies lie abandoned on the nightstand, a stark reminder of something I can’t fix, someone I can’t reach.

Maybe this is who he really is. A man who builds walls so high even he can’t see over them. Maybe I mistook the sharp edges and sarcasm for walls hiding emotions instead of weapons designed to cut.

But I can't quite make myself believe that. Can't forget how he touched me, how he trusted me, how he let me see past his defenses for those brief, precious moments.

Later, I’ll let the anger come. I’ll dissect every moment, every word, trying to understand where it all unraveled. But not now.

Right now I just have to breathe. Have to put one foot in front of the other. Have to figure out how to exist in a world where Knight's walls are back up, stronger than ever.