Chapter 350: Why Would I Run?

Emi spent the rest of the day in a fog.

She went through the motions of her training. She helped Marco with his homework. She took Bartholomew outside for some "sun time," which mostly involved watching a snail sit on a rock for forty-five minutes while Soomin explained in detail why the Fox thought Bartholomew was "a wise old soul trapped in a gastropod’s body."

Just normal Onyx House stuff. Totally fine.

Except every time she turned around, she caught someone watching her.

Natalia, her purple eyes narrowed to slits.

Skylar, expression unreadable behind a cloud of clove-scented smoke.

Even Soomin, tilting her head like the Fox was telling her something.

By dinner, Emi felt like she might vibrate out of her skin. She pushed food around her plate, too nervous to eat.

"You okay?" Monica asked, sitting across from her.

"Huh? Oh! Yeah! Totally fine! Just, you know, tired from training!"

Monica studied her. "You’re a terrible liar."

"What? I’m not lying!"

"Your eye twitches when you lie. Like that. Just now."

"It does not!" Twitch.

Monica actually smiled. It transformed her face completely. "Relax. I’m not going to interrogate you. We all have our secrets."

"Do we?" Emi whispered.

Monica glanced across the room, where Satori sat with Natalia and Isabelle, discussing something over a map. "Some more than others."

There was something knowing in her tone that made Emi’s stomach knot again.

"Can I ask you something?" Emi ventured.

"Sure."

"Do you ever feel... replaceable?"

Monica’s expression softened. "Every day since I got my Aspect. There’s always someone stronger, someone more valuable, someone more..."

"Lovable?" Emi supplied.

Monica nodded. "Yeah. That too."

"So how do you deal with it?"

"Badly, mostly." Monica grimaced. "I let a boy treat me like I was disposable because I thought that was all I deserved. Don’t do that."

"I won’t."

"Good." Monica stood, picking up her tray. "Oh, and Emi?"

"Yeah?"

"If he does that to you, I’ll strangle him with poison ivy while he sleeps."

Emi blinked. "That’s... weirdly specific. And kind of sweet."

"I know. I’m working on my threats. Akari says I need to be more assertive." She walked away, leaving Emi with a strange mix of comfort and new anxiety.

Hours later, Emi stood outside Satori’s door, her knuckles raised to knock.

She’d changed outfits four times. Settled on a cute sundress she’d never worn before. Put her hair up, then down, then up again. Applied lip gloss, wiped it off, applied it again.

Now she just had to knock.

Her hand stayed frozen in the air.

What if this was a mistake? What if he was just being nice? What if he opened the door and Natalia was there? Or Skylar? Or—

The door swung open.

Satori stood there, wearing jeans and a black t-shirt, his red hair slightly damp like he’d just showered. He looked... normal. Not the strategic mastermind. Not the dungeon-clearing hero. Just a boy.

Her heart did that stupid flipping thing again.

"You gonna stand out there all night?" he asked, his mouth curving into that half-smile that made her stomach flip.

"I was building dramatic tension," Emi managed.

He laughed. "Well, consider me tensed. Come in."

His room was neater than she expected. The bed was made. Books lined up on shelves. A single dirty shirt draped over the back of his chair. Bartholomew’s terrarium sat by the window, the immortal snail doing whatever immortal snails did at night.

"Nice dress," Satori said, closing the door behind her.

"Thanks. I’ve had it forever. Well, not forever, obviously. But like, since last summer, which feels like forever ago, especially with everything that’s happened, and—" She clamped her mouth shut. "I’m rambling."

"You’re nervous."

"Yeah."

Satori sat on the edge of his bed, patting the space beside him. "Come here."

Emi hesitated, then crossed the room to sit beside him. She folded her hands in her lap, painfully aware of how close they were. How alone.

"So..." she began.

"So," he echoed.

They sat in silence for a moment.

Then, at the same time:

"I don’t know what I’m doing—"

"I need to tell you something—"

They both stopped. Emi laughed nervously.

"You first," she offered.

Satori nodded. Took a breath.

"I need you to understand something, Emi. About me. About...this." He gestured vaguely between them.

Her heart sank. This was it. The rejection. The let-down. The ’you’re great but...’

"I’m not a good person," he said.

Oh. That wasn’t what she expected.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." He seemed to struggle for words. "The things I’ve done. The things I will do. They’re not... nice."

"You saved us in the dungeon," she pointed out. "You took a hit meant for me."

"That doesn’t make me good. That makes me tactical."

"You helped Monica find her strength."

"Because I needed her power."

"You welcomed Celeste and her bodyguard even though you didn’t have to."

"Political advantage."

Emi frowned. "Are you trying to talk me out of liking you? Because it’s not working."

That startled a laugh out of him. "No. I’m trying to be honest with you."

"Why?"

"Because you deserve that. Because you’re..." He trailed off.

"The light?" she supplied, a hint of bitterness in her voice.

"Yes." His hand found hers. "And I don’t want to extinguish you."

Emi looked at their joined hands. At his fingers wrapped around hers. At the way his thumb traced small circles on her skin.

"What if I’m not as fragile as you think?" she asked softly.

Satori’s eyes darkened. "Emi—"

"What if I know exactly what I’m getting into? What if I choose it anyway?"

He was quiet for a long moment, studying her face.

Then his free hand came up, fingers threading into her hair, drawing her closer.

"Last chance to run," he murmured.

Emi leaned forward.

"I don’t want to run," she whispered against his lips. "I want to stay."

When he kissed her, it wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was hungry and demanding and possessive, a claiming rather than a request.

Her body responded instantly, electricity racing along her nerves, heat pooling low in her belly. She pressed closer, her hands finding his shoulders, his chest, the solid warmth of him.

Satori pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes burning with something that made her breath catch.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough.

Emi nodded. "I’m sure."

His answering smile was triumphant.

"Then show me," he said, pulling her onto his lap. "Show me you’re not afraid of the dark."