She didn't seem to care about my answer. She had already moved on to her next performance.
"Also, the car accident really was just that—an accident." Her voice dropped to something approximating remorse. "I apologized to Nico, and he promised me there wouldn't be any consequences. I assume... you won't hold it against me either?"
I looked at her steadily.
Said nothing.
Consequences. In this world, that word meant something very specific. It meant broken bones, missing fingers, shallow graves in the pine barrens. That Nico had promised her immunity meant he valued her more than the blood oath he had sworn to me.
There were many things I couldn't handle on my own right now. My ruined hand. My stolen research. My shattered future.
That Nico would protect her was no surprise.
He had always protected her.
"You saw that thesis, didn't you?"
Her tone dropped, and something sharp glinted in her eyes—satisfaction, perhaps. Or triumph.
"Yes, it's exactly what you're thinking." She leaned forward slightly. "Nico knew I was doing research abroad and needed publications to restore my family's standing. He gave it to me himself."
My fingertips curled tight without my permission, nails biting into my palms.
She went on, her voice taking on a practiced softness.
"These past three years, thank you for taking care of Nico. I was conducting research in the European territories and couldn't always be with him. I only found out later that my sudden departure triggered his selective mutism."
She made a show of distress, pressing her fingertips to her forehead like a woman in a painting—beautiful, tragic, false.
Then she smiled again.
"But I've only been back a short while, and he's already improved so much. He speaks to me, you know. Actual words. Full sentences, sometimes."
The words landed like blows to my chest.
I lowered my gaze.
My hand stirred the coffee the nurse had brought me, the motion mechanical. The liquid was black as ink, bitter as the truth I was finally swallowing.
"Did you come here to brag about how much he loves you?"
I set down the spoon and tilted my head back, draining the bitter black coffee in one go. It burned going down, but I welcomed the pain. It reminded me I could still feel something.
"Don't bother."
"His past, his present, his future—I don't follow any of it anymore. I don't care."
"I don't want a man who wouldn't speak to me."