I wake with a pounding headache, as though I'd been struck with a bottle rather than indulging in drinks the night before. Oddly enough, I find myself almost thankful. For the first time in ages, I slept peacefully through the night.
Slowly, my senses return, and I take in my surroundings. I'm stretched out on a bed in a motel room. The sky outside is quite cloudy, making it impossible to tell whether it's early morning or noon.
Curled up beside me, Cody sleeps peacefully. I can't recall when or how we made it back to the room, but at least our trip down the steep stairs was successful. I sneak a glance at him. There's something undeniably calming about seeing him rest so peacefully, so securely, in my presence.
This time, I don't push the thought away. I let myself linger, studying his face. His features are striking—almost too perfect to ignore. The urge to trace my fingertips along his cheek wells up, but I catch myself. Instead, I gently brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, watching as it springs back playfully against my fingers.
Just as the moment settles, an alarm clock blares out of nowhere, startling me so much that I nearly tumble off the edge of the bed. My heart hammers against my ribs, as though I'd been caught in some illicit act. Meanwhile, Cody stirs calmly, lazily stretching before leaning over to silence the offending noise with a swipe.
"Good morning," he murmurs, his voice rough and low from sleep.
"Yeah, great morning," I grumble, irritated by the alarm's sudden scare and interruption.
"Sorry," he says, his voice sincere. "I just didn't want to oversleep. You know, with checkout and all."
I nod and swing my legs over the bed. There's nothing to pack since we don't have much with us.
"Go wash up. I'll clean up," I say without looking at him.
The bed creaks as he gets up, his footsteps fading toward the bathroom. I begin tidying the room, but fragments of last night resurface, hitting me with a wave of embarrassment. Do I always babble such ridiculous, sugary nonsense when I'm drunk? Great. I distinctly remember declaring, no mixed signals. Nice job sticking to that.
As I'm lost in self-recrimination, Cody emerges from the bathroom, fresh and composed.
"You coming back with me?" he asks.
I hesitate, unsure how to respond.
"Even if I wanted to stay somewhere else," I finally say, "I'd still have to come back for my stuff. I don't even have a phone."
"Does everything have to be so complicated?" his voice carries a hint of frustration, but there's something else beneath it—hurt.
I turn to him, meeting his gaze with a steady seriousness. I'm not trying to pick a fight, but I need him to understand where I stand.
"Cody," I begin evenly, "I don't know if you're here because you want to be or because Elle asked you to, but I'd appreciate it if you let me handle things at my own pace."
He looks taken aback, then defensive. "No one told me to come. I just… thought it might make things easier for you if I was here."
"I know," I reply, my tone softening. "And I do appreciate it. But I'm fine now. I've rested enough, and I'll take care of things."
Cody doesn't look pleased. He firmly presses his lips together but accepts that he won't change my mind. With a reluctant nod, he follows my lead. We leave without further discussion and head straight back to the bookstore.
I hadn't given much thought to seeing my colleagues again after that fight on the way here, but now, standing in front of the door, I can't bring myself to open it. Cody notices my hesitation and stops beside me.
"Don't worry. I'd bet anything they'll be happy to see you," he says, his tone warm and reassuring.
I'm not sure if his words ease my nerves, but I take a deep breath and grip the door handle. Before stepping inside, a sign catches my eye: The bookstore is temporarily closed due to personal reasons. I pause, my brows knitting in confusion. We've never closed for more than a day.
As I step inside, the emptiness hits me. The tightly drawn blinds cloak the room in an unsettling gloom, and the familiar, comforting scent of baked goods is absent. The space feels hollow, almost lifeless. I stop in the center, unease creeping over me. Could all of this be because of me? A sharp pang of guilt twists in my chest.
"Nate's back!" Elle's voice startles me.
She sits at a table in the corner, leafing through a stack of papers. The quiet rustle is soon joined by the footsteps descending the stairs. Arthur and Kaja appear in the doorway. Kaja, seemingly unaware of the undercurrents in the house, rushes over and wraps her arms around my waist in an eager hug.
"I figured you might stay away for a while," Arthur breaks the silence, his tone light and teasing. "But I'm glad you came back. This is your home, after all."
He steps closer and gives me a playful jab on the shoulder, a reassuring smile on his face. His calm demeanor surprises me. There's no trace of lingering anger, no walls of defensiveness. Slowly, the knot of tension in my chest starts to loosen.
"I'm sorry," I say quietly, my gaze dropping. "About last night. I don't know what came over me."
"So am I. While you were gone, we talked it through and you were right. We can't keep pretending everything's fine," he pauses, his eyes searching mine with a flicker of worry. "We're just... worried about you. You don't look so good."
"It's just exhaustion and stress," I say, brushing it off. "I can't relax, not with what he's capable of."
"None of us can," Eleonora interjects, setting the papers aside. "Maybe that's why we've been avoiding taking action. I've never doubted we could win but now… now I feel uncertain. So many questions, so few answers."
I look around the room. I see it in all of them—the fear, the uncertainty. They're struggling just as much as I am. And yet, despite everything, they're still here, still fighting.
Maybe I've been wrong all along. I can't do this alone. Perhaps the strength I've sought isn't something I can muster in isolation. Leo was wrong when he said sticking to my friends made me weak. It's the exact opposite. On my own, I'm vulnerable, but with them by my side, I might be strong enough to face anything.
"We have a lot to talk about," Eleonora says, her voice pulling me back. "I think we'll need to visit Balthazar. But first, I want to make sure you're okay."
"Elle, I'm really fine," I say, forcing a smile.
She steps forward and pulls me into a hug, gently patting my back. When I pull away, my eyes meet Cody's. He's standing quietly by the doorway, watching me. The moment our gazes lock, he quickly looks away, but not before I catch the sadness flickering across his face.
I know what he's thinking. He wants me to lean on someone for support. To let go of the pain in my heart, and share my true worries. And I've just confirmed that I won't.
There's a line I won't cross. I can't drag anyone else into this endless mess of overthinking and worry. I won't face the fight alone, but the rest of it—the consequences of the broken rule? That's mine to carry.
I don't fully understand why I'm on this path, why everything has led me here, to this moment. But one thing is clear. No matter what, no matter the sacrifice, I'll see this through.
For them.