The room was silent for what felt like an eternity.
Marcus stared at Vivian with an expression she couldn’t quite read—disbelief layered over something that looked almost like grudging respect. His posture had shifted during her speech, the aggressive defensiveness softening into something more contemplative. Less attack, more assessment.
“You really think you can handle him,” he said finally. Not a question. An observation.
“I don’t think. I know.”
“Because you’ve survived trauma. Because you’re strong. Because you’ve read some file he compiled and you think that makes you prepared.” His voice was gentle now, almost pitying. “I thought I was strong too, Vivian. I thought I knew what I was getting into. I thought my eyes were open.”
“Mine are.”
“Are they?” He stepped closer to her, h
