Kai's eyes widen when he sees me, and then his face breaks into a relieved, almost boyish grin.
"Lila!" he says, rushing a step forward. I blink, caught off guard by his happiness. Relief floods through him, and for a moment, I almost forget the tension in the room.
Then his gaze sharpens, flicks to Munro. "And you," he asks, his voice half-challenge, half-question, "do you plan to let her go now?"
My stomach drops. Let her go?
It lands all at once — sharp and undeniable.
This isn't new.
Not for them.
Something in the way they hold themselves, in the silence that stretches between them — it's too steady, too knowing. Not strangers measuring each other, but men who have already done this before.
Munro doesn't look surprised.
Kai doesn't ask questions.
And that's when it settles
