The rest of the week passed without incident. I finished up my final tests and projects for school on Wednesday and Thursday. It felt weird. For the past decade of my life, my weeks had been dictated by a fairly rigid schedule of waking up, going to school, after school extracurriculars, homework, and socializing.

  But not anymore. I was done. Just a matter of waiting on final scoring and getting my documentation. I felt confident with my results on the tests. My studying time of late had suffered with everything going on, but I had been a good student, and most of the final weeks of school were review and study for exams.

  It was still super early in the morning when my phone rang in my hair. I pulled it out and checked it. Taylor.

  I answered with a “Hello?”

  I could hear some wind sounds coming from her phone. “Hey. Do you mind if I come over? Maybe stay for a while?” She sounded… sorta pissed.

  I laughed. “No, silly!” I gave her my address.

  “Think I can be there in around twenty minutes.”

  “Sure! I’ll just eat breakfast and wait for you out front. Don’t uh. Judge this book by its cover, or whatever. The place looks pretty rough on the outside.”

  “Yeah, fine. Bye.” She hung up.

  Yikes. Cranky.

  I ate some frozen ‘fish sticks’ for breakfast and washed them down with a jug of water. Then I headed out front, hopped over the walls surrounding my fire-fortress, and sat on my haunches by the front gate, waiting for Taylor.

  Yesterday I met with Chess team about hiring them. They had been receptive to the idea, but as Faultline had warned me, the prices were pretty intense. I was debating whether or not I wanted to hire them or go with something a little less expensive. Faultline had told me that I should contextualize it as insurance for my already very large investment. That helped some. I told them I’d get them an answer in the next week.

  Melody had been spending damn near every waking hour not at school with the PRT. I couldn’t say I blamed her. I felt that same drive to succeed, had that same competitive spirit when I was there. A pessimist might say it was a rat race, but I always found it engaging. Enjoyable.

  The cat was out of the bag with my parents. I hadn’t told them, but Melody had wound up spilling the tea when Mom and Dad had pressured her into telling them what that thing was all about at the gatehouse. She, in turn, told me that she’d fessed up to it. I couldn’t say I blamed her; it wasn’t easy lying to them about things like that. Interestingly, neither of them had contacted me to say anything about it yet. Just the usual text chatter back and forth.

  I wasn’t sure what to think about that. Maybe it was denial on their part. Maybe they didn’t care. Maybe they already knew?

  A fly landed on my mask. I peered at it.

  A minute later, Taylor came trudging out of an alleyway across the street and headed towards me. She was carrying two bags: one backpack and one heavily packed duffel bag.

  When she meant come over and stay for a while, I wasn’t aware she meant… like this. Not what I expected, but I rolled with it.

  I gave her a little wave.

  She looked around at the prison-looking compound covered in graffiti and lewd imagery. She frowned. “You live here?”

  “Sure do! Does that surprise you?”

  She rocked her head back and forth a little, adjusting her glasses. “A little? You seem… I don’t know, kind of preppy. I figured something like this would offend you, or something.”

  I chuckled and held my hands out for her bags. She gave me a look, like 'Really?'

  “Will you please allow the big brute to use their strength for something actually useful?”

  She sighed and handed the bags over.

  I turned around and gestured to the big penis-adorned heavy metal gate. “Please, enter my kingdom. Behold, my magic.” To the gate, I said: “Allakhazam, I bid thee open!” I clicked the remote nestled in my hair, and with a quiet whir of electric motors, the gate slid open on its track.

  Taylor rolled her eyes behind me.

  We walked through the gate, and I closed it behind us. Taylor walked around the large inner courtyard with me, and I pointed out my lair's amenities.

  “Two guard towers. Spotlights. Floodlights. Reinforced concrete walls. Helicopter landing pad. Spotter’s tower. Parking for the entire family barbecue.”

  “This is… crazy, Morgan. How did you manage this? I thought the Undersiders had a good lair, but you’re making them look like amateurs over here all on your own.”

  I detected a touch of hostility in her tone when talking about her team. Interesting.

  “Well, I paid Tattletale a filthy amount of money to help me find a suitable place. The city had this sitting around, mothballed and collecting dust. Dust, and a whole hell of a lot of trash. They were practically overjoyed to offload it to some idiot investor so they could get it off the books. I bought it for way less than it cost to build, then sank a small fortune into cleaning, repairs, and upgrades.”

  We walked through the inside of the firehouse. I had the lights on in a few rooms, energy-saver lighting on everywhere else. One of the little splurges I did when renovating and upgrading the place was installing LED lighting throughout.

  I looked back at Taylor. “So, I’m happy to have you over for as long as you want. Do you know how long you’re thinking of staying?”

  She rubbed one arm and glanced to the side. “I don’t know. I don’t have a plan or anything.”

  I patted her on the back with my tail and said, “Don’t sweat it! I only asked so I’d know where to stick you. I’ve got space to spare. Come on!”

  I led her into the private rooms down the hall from the barracks-style room. “Pick whatever one you want! They’re pretty bare and all the same. I just got super basic furniture. Bed, storage, desk, chair.”

  She chose the one on the left in the back, and I dropped her bags in there for her using my tail. “There are keys hanging on the inside of the armoire door. Grab them so you can lock yourself up. Have you eaten?”

  “I-no. I haven’t.” She walked out, closing the door behind her, but not locking it.

  I took her over to the gigantic kitchen and dining area. I lay down on the floor and told her to help herself.

  After looking through a couple of packed shelves and cupboards, she made herself some oatmeal, and I helped her make some tea. With my tail. Like you do. I helped myself to another gallon jug of water, refilling the old one at the sink.

  She sort of moped as she ate. I could tell she wasn’t feeling too hot.

  Halfway through her oatmeal, she started talking. I listened quietly to her. She’d temporarily parted ways with the Undersiders. They had a meeting with their boss, Coil, and it hadn’t gone well. The team was on the fence about continuing to work for him. Then Taylor told me about what it was that had gotten her ticked off at them.

  Coil had kidnapped a girl nearly a month ago and was holding her against her will in his underground fortress base. A girl named Dinah Alcott. Taylor told me she was some kind of precognitive, and he was using her ability to supplement his own. He did this by forcing her compliance, feeding her narcotics or some other addictive drug. Trading hits for data, calculations.

  Taylor thought it was disgusting. Reprehensible. That something needed to be done about it. Half her team was more concerned about their own problems, and the other half was either disinterested or interested but compromised.

  So she’d left early in the morning without really saying any goodbyes.

  I felt more or less the same way that she did. Keeping a young girl strung out on drugs so you can use her power to further your own agendas? That’s some true supervillain shit.

  I shifted my bulk around some. My power was itching in my head, for lack of a better word. Pushing at me. Had been for days now, and was getting steadily more insistent about it. I’d have to do something about it soon.

  I drummed my dull claws on the floor and thought about the situation.

  “Okay, so. First and foremost. I agree with you. This is not acceptable. And it’s a gross violation of the unwritten rules. The general idea being that you’re not a total scumbag to cape minors. This more than exceeds that definition. But…”

  Taylor looked up from the table and frowned at me. I raised my lower hands to placate her. “Not the ‘ignore what I just said’ kind of but. Give me a second to walk through it.”

  She nodded slowly.

  “I’m trying to think about the logistics here. And it’s ugly. That doesn’t mean we don’t do it—it means we need to do it right, the first time. No second chances.”

  I clicked claws on the floor. “Hostage situations are already tricky. This one’s worse. It’s a literal underground super-bunker, full of armed mercenaries who are loyal, well-trained, and backed by a guy with ‘fuck-you’ levels of disposable income. So we can’t just buy them out. And if we hit the place directly, they could kill her. Or disappear. Either way, she’s gone.”

  I brought a hand up and rested my jaw on it. Idly tapping on my armored face.

  “And then there’s the powers. Coil’s—which lets him choose outcomes somehow—and Dinah’s. A powerful precog. That’s a nasty combination.”

  Taylor’s voice was sharp when she responded. “You think I haven’t thought about all this?”

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “No, I’m sure you have. But I haven’t had that luxury, so I’m thinking through it out loud. In case there’s something I miss, or something you haven’t considered, either. I know you’re mad, but I’m agreeing with you here. I’m on your side. Let’s not turn this into a fight. That just distracts from what matters.”

  She sighed, stood up, and took her bowl and cup over to the sink to wash them. When she was done, she turned around and leaned against the counter, and parted some hair from in front of her face.

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  “Sorry. You’re right. I’m… not mad at you, I’m mad at them more than anything. I thought some of them were better than that.”

  I nodded. “Listen. You’re here now. I’ll get you a keyring and remote. Feel free to wander around, explore, and do whatever you want. Make yourself at home, it’s just the two of us here. Oh—speaking of—I've got a gift for you. Meant to give it to you days ago, but the chance never came up.”

  She blinked. “You have all of this just… for yourself?” She gestured around vaguely.

  “Well, I was going to hire security to stay here and keep an eye on things, but who knows. Maybe with you around, I won’t have to. Your power’s like a giant dragnet for anything going down nearby.”

  She shifted, visibly uncomfortable. “What… gift? You already gave me one last week.”

  I chuckled. “Not quite like that. Hang on, I’ll go get it.” I ran downstairs and came back up with the big box her laptop came in, in tow. I handed–tailed–it over to her. She hefted it and looked at it, eyes scanning over the box and details.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I told your dad I was going to get you a computer. So you could take online classes, get caught up. I’ll help you study, too—if you want. It was part of what I promised him, assuming you were willing.”

  Her eyes darted up to me, and her cheeks flushed.

  “He wanted to buy it for you, but I insisted. I’m not hurting for cash.”

  She sighed and said, “Thank you. I’m not either, but I can’t just buy an expensive computer with my cape money and not have it raise questions with my dad.”

  I nodded. “I get it. Really. Anything else you need, just ask. We’ll take care of it. Oh, and…”

  I paused, catching her gaze.

  “I’m pretty easy going, I guess… for ground rules, I’d say just try not to be a slob and clean up after yourself, be smart about coming and going and bringing people over, and if you decide to have any wild orgies, I demand an invite in advance.”

  “Yeah, right. Like that’s going to happen. But sure.”

  “Imagine I’m waggling eyebrows at you: it’s almost bikini carwash season. We can do some fundraisers for hard-up solo villains in need. Thoughts?”

  She went bright red. I cackled.

  “Hey, hey. Even better. We’ll only wear bikinis and our masks!”

  She fled, carrying the laptop. I called after her, “Meet me in the lounge in a few! It’s on two!”

  I stretched out on my beanbag bed and enjoyed the early morning sunshine that was coming in the window. Turning my attention inward, I consulted my power. It was restless, the seas were choppy and rough, but the weather felt nice, sunny, and warm. Breezy.

  It didn’t feel angry. Not hostile or dangerous. But something was stirring it up. Something deep.

  It reminded me of the night I became Apex, but this was different.

  “Morgan?”

  I snapped out of my meditation.

  “Hmm? Did you say something?”

  Taylor was standing off to my side, watching me curiously.

  “Where were you just now? It’s not like you to be caught off guard.”

  “Oh, I was meditating, consulting my power.”

  She tilted her head inquisitively and took a seat on the couch. I mirrored her, coiling on my bed.

  “Well,” I said, “I sort of perceive my power as the ocean. And we have… I don’t know, a weird way of communicating. Not talking exactly.”

  Her eyes went wide. “You can talk to your power?”

  I held a hand out and rocked it from side to side. “Not precisely. My power works by me asking it for things—visualizing something, or remembering a change I’ve done before. Some of them I’ve memorized, like my quills or my whip. But I can ask for other things. Abstract stuff. Or more concrete.”

  “How does the communication work, then?”

  “After I ask, I get a response. A sensation. Sort of like a yes or no, and sometimes a hint about how big or demanding the change is. To me, it feels like the ocean. If it’s still and calm, that’s a no. If it starts getting more active, that’s a yes.”

  “...Huh. That’s really different. How do you know how hard it will be?”

  “The severity of things ranges from a glassy lake to a typhoon.” I paused. “Sometimes, though, it’s like it wants to talk first. Like now. I didn’t ask for anything, but it’s stirring. So I was checking in to see what’s up.”

  She spoke slowly. “Do you… know what it wants?”

  I sighed, crawled off the bed, pushed it aside, and stretched out across the floor.

  “I’m about to find out. Going to open up, let it through. I think it wants to make a change, but I’ve got no idea what, or why.”

  Taylor leaned in a little and rubbed her hands on her thighs. “Do you want to be alone?” There was a strange spark in her eyes. Not fear. Not concern, but curiosity.

  I hadn’t expected that.

  I shook my head. “Nah, just… fair warning, sometimes it’s not pretty. In a big way.”

  She nodded, but didn’t leave.

  Here goes nothing.

  I relaxed and let the change flow. Warmth and energy surged through my chest, spilling into the rest of my body. Gut-churning gurgles rolled from my torso and abdomen. I felt a cough coming—half gag, half heave—and on the third try, multiple things tore loose inside and shifted around violently.

  There was a loud, deep crunch that came from the middle of my back and hips. I felt my chest and hindquarters slide away from each other on the floor. My torso had lengthened some. More cracking followed, and my tail extended even farther, slithering out at least another foot. Rapid popping and snapping as my ribs changed shape, my chest growing deeper.

  Then my senses cut out. Total silence. Total darkness. I couldn’t see, hear, smell, or even taste. My head was changing. Beneath the hard carapace, I felt bones breaking, shifting, melting back together. The human face hidden under my mask—the one I never used anymore—went numb. A sharp, freezing pain hit my skull like a brain freeze dialed to eleven.

  Pressure built inside my head, rising fast. Then something gave. I’m pretty sure my skull just… split. My carapace cracked. I felt plates and bone grinding, reshaping—my balance shifting as the weight of my head and neck redistributed. My neck followed, stretching longer.

  “G-guh!” I grunted, jaw clenching and relaxing as it reshaped.

  At the same time, waves of heat flared across my skin. Shoulders, spine, top arms, thighs, sides, lower back. Not painful. Just hot. A molting heat.

  I clenched my upper fists as I felt the changes coming and going in waves, the intensity varying right alongside each wave. My muscles from head to toe burned, and it felt like they were twisting and coiling.

  Then Taylor’s hand was on my side. I held still.

  My senses came back. Vision. Sound. Taste. Smell. All at once. I lay panting on the floor, wisps of steam curling off parts of my body.

  “Are you okay?” Taylor asked me, concern layered in her voice.

  I coughed and replied: “Just peachy. Never better.”

  Maybe literally. These changes are sometimes hard to acclimate to, but they’re usually pretty beneficial.

  My power was still in my head now, seemingly satisfied. It still felt warm and nice.

  My voice sounded different. Raspier, slightly lower-pitched, oddly enough, a touch softer, and there was something else going on. Some kind of harmonics or undertones.

  “Give it to me straight, doc. How bad is it?” I asked Taylor dryly.

  She circled around me the long way and then squatted in front of my face. I became aware of the fact that the room was less spacious than it had been previously.

  Great.

  She canted her head around, looking at my head, and then rocked back on her heels. “It was incredible to watch. Almost mechanical. You’re definitely bigger. Longer, mostly. Your head has changed a lot. It’s... almost totally different now.”

  She scratched her cheek with her fingertips. “You’ve got more armor coverage.”

  I sighed and got to my feet. My muscles were tense and had that sort of subtle itch when you needed to stretch. So I did. That brought a whole new symphony of bodily sounds along with it. Crunches, pops, and snaps as joints released tension and muscles shifted.

  “I’m going to lovingly gaze into the mirror like the narcissist I am. If you hear screaming, just toss in a stuffed animal or chew toy to comfort me.”

  She gave me a look, then glanced around. I groaned. “I don’t actually have chew toys, god.”

  Her face darted back to face me, and her cheeks colored. “Hey! I didn’t know. Maybe you teethe a lot, or something,” she mumbled.

  I snickered and headed off toward the showers.

  The changes weren’t… terrible. I was slightly longer, giving me a sleeker profile on all fours. My tail had changed shape, too. It used to be elliptical, taller than it was wide. Now it was the opposite: broader than it was tall. I could feel the added mass in how it moved, heavier, yes, but also stronger.

  I clenched my fists, flexing different muscle groups. Correction: my whole body felt stronger. Denser. Harder. You could see bulging muscular definition under my soft armor now, even at rest. Before, it only showed when I was exerting myself. I looked—and felt—meaner. I’d gained weight, clearly, but the net result left me feeling lighter, more agile than ever.

  There were subtler changes from head to toe. My upper hands were shaped differently. The backs of my hands and fingers were now heavily armored. My four fingers were each slightly shorter and thicker than before, the claws following suit. Pads lined the inside of my hands now, like the ones on my feet. When I rubbed them together, I felt real friction through my armor. A major improvement.

  Taylor had been right about the armor. Gone were the bulbous, spiked shoulders—replaced with segmented plating that looked like it belonged on a knight’s pauldrons. Each upper arm had layered hard plates, and the traps and neck were armored too. More plates ran down my spine, thick and overlapping, but they didn’t restrict my mobility. I was beginning to understand why my tail had grown: counterbalance.

  Smaller, geometric armor plates dotted my sides, from just below my lower armpits all the way to my hips. Not connected directly to each other, but linked by soft armor that let me twist and bend freely. Their shape ensured I could contort without binding or pinching.

  But the biggest change by far was my head. Taylor hadn’t exaggerated. It was nearly unrecognizable.

  The previous design of two rounded hemispheres with a beak-like ridge was gone. In its place was something wedge-shaped and alien. I saw hints of sharks, snakes, and reptiles, but only in passing. This wasn’t an animal. This was other.

  My face had elongated. Sleeker. More feral. I’d lost the cranial slope entirely. From the top, my skull looked trapezoidal. Wider at the back, narrowing at the snout. The same was true from the front. Broad at the brow, tapering down to the jaw. Angular, yes, but with flowing, organic planes.

  My jaw was longer, but it still sealed under my skull with that familiar click. I still didn’t have nostrils—just the narrow breathing slits tucked beneath the upper ‘lip’ of my carapace.

  My vision had changed, too. I’d gone from eight eyes to fourteen. Six across the top. Six along the sides. Two more beneath my jaw. And where the top and sides of my head met, a ridge, sort of like a brow. A long row of those ‘gemstone’ sensory clusters glittered below it like strange eyeliner.

  I sat back on my haunches, running my hands over my body, my face. I thought I’d be more unsettled by it. But I wasn’t. Not really.

  I stood up, carefully. The room had a high ceiling, but not that high, and I made my way to the mirror.

  My proportions had changed. Broader shoulders, thicker chest. More mass overall. My silhouette had a new kind of power to it. I had… mixed feelings about that.

  The added muscle and wider shoulders gave me a more masculine build. But my hips and thighs had widened, too, curving in ways that felt distinctly feminine. My neck, now longer and more sinuous, leaned toward the same. A strange juxtaposition. But familiar, in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

  Something was nagging at me, so I headed downstairs into the garage to confirm a suspicion. I moved around, trying different gaits and stances, and sure enough, I was more naturally suited to being on all fours now than standing upright. I could still walk bipedally without issue, but I was definitely more top-heavy than before.

  Standing upright, I was a good two feet taller than I was before. That felt like a lot. The longer, heavier tail helped balance that out. Somehow, despite the increase in size and length, I moved more gracefully, lissome, even. I was heavier, yes, but I felt lighter in every other respect.

  Taylor wandered in while I was testing my balance, contorting into yoga-like poses. She was sweaty and in workout clothes.

  “I see we had the same idea,” I said.

  “I was exploring the place and found the gym,” she replied, wiping her brow. “Figured I’d put that book to use and did some strength training. Now I’m sore from head to toe.”

  “Soreness is good—” I stood and bent backward into a perfect bridge, hands flat on the floor. “—means you’ll grow when you sleep.”

  She blinked. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Muscle only grows when you’re asleep. So if you want to see results, prioritize your sleep. Do everything you can to get a solid night’s rest.”

  She sat cross-legged near me as I finished stretching. “How, uh… do you like your changes?”

  I followed her lead and settled down on my haunches and elbows, my version of sitting.

  “I’m of two minds,” I said. “I don’t like that I’m bigger and heavier. It was already hard to navigate tight spaces. Now it’ll be worse. At least I’m not taller on all fours. I’m sort of neutral on the new muscle mass and my new head look. I do like the extra armor. It’s not restricting my movement, which is a miracle. I bet I’m a good bit tougher than I was before—and I was already really tough.”

  I let my tentacles drop, draping them around my neck and shoulders like a scarf. “I’m… not sure what to think about my figure.”

  Taylor peered up at me. “What do you mean?”

  I sighed. “I’m sexless. But I still feel like myself in here. Meaning, I still feel desire toward others, even if I don’t have any… hardware. Maybe it’s stupid, but I still want to feel feminine, even as Apex. My idea of femininity probably wasn’t in line with most people’s, even before all of this. I liked being strong and muscular."

  “Now? I’m happy my hips and thighs are wider, and that my ‘hair’ is long.”

  I looked over my shoulder at myself. Easier now, with a longer neck and more flexibility, a greater range of motion. “My shoulders are broader, and I’m a lot more muscular than before, which tips the scale back toward masculine. That’s why I say I’m not sure what to think.”

  Taylor asked me: “Will you stand up, circle around a bit? On all fours and upright?”

  I did as she asked, taking my time and letting her get a good look. When I stood upright, she had to lean back a bit to take me in fully.

  “I’m trying to be objective,” she said after a minute or two.

  I held my breath.

  “I realize this might sound strange, but bear with me: I think you look like yourself. Like you used to, your human form.”

  I was a little confused by that. “Really? How so?”

  “It’s hard to explain,” she said. “But when I look at you, my brain still says ‘feminine.’ Or maybe just… you. There’s some ambiguity, sure, but it’s consistent. You’ve got wide hips, strong thighs, and, uh…” Her cheeks colored. “A nice butt.”

  I laughed, warm and surprised. She looked startled for a second, then smiled.

  I dropped back to all fours and prowled over to her. This was my default now, more than ever. Sleek. Smooth. Full-body continuous motion with a hint of sinuous, catlike grace.

  “It’s the way you move and carry yourself, too,” she added.

  I walked right up into her space. She leaned back a little. I sat and gently placed a clawed index finger on her lips. Her cheeks flushed bright red. Then, with my thumbs, I brushed her hair aside and ran my palms over her cheeks, staring into her eyes. She stayed perfectly still.

  I really wanted to kiss her cheek for saying such kind things, but Apex kisses weren’t exactly acceptable. So I showed affection another way: by touching her face gently, then drawing her into a tight embrace.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, giving her a squeeze.

  She went soft in my arms at first, like a sack of potatoes. But after a moment, she brought her arms up and hugged me back.

  Taylor held me for longer than I had expected.

  She spoke quietly. “Nobody’s ever touched me like that before. Not unless they were planning to hurt me afterward.”

  What a horrible thing to carry.

  “I’ve… always been the kind of person who expresses themselves through touch. But now?” I hesitated. “Like this? I’m scared to. I don’t know how people will react when they actually feel me. What I am now.”

  I pulled back a little, just enough to meet Taylor’s eyes.

  “I miss sitting next to my sister. Resting my hand on someone’s knee, hugging someone just because. Now, every time I want to reach out, I stop and wonder. Will they flinch? Will I scare them?”

  I looked down at one of my human hands. Long, dark blue fingers tipped with razor-sharp claws.

  Lethal weapons.

  People have every right to be afraid of me. Faultline was right. I look like a fever dream purpose-built for violence.

  “I didn’t flinch,” Taylor said softly.

  Her voice snapped me out of my spiral.

  I looked at her. With every eye. Taking in every minute detail of her face.

  “I know,” I whispered.

  I lowered my head further, bringing it in until the top of my head was in a suitable position.

  Taylor brought her head forward, resting her forehead against my own. She closed her eyes.

  “You’re so warm,” she murmured.

  I thought about something while we were sitting like that. Something that had been bothering me since the day at Taylor’s house with her father, when I’d found out about what happened to her at Winslow.

  What Sophia Hess and the other two girls had done.

  Having Taylor here at the station was good. It felt good to me. I wanted to come to her with the horrible truth that I knew. But I also didn’t want to scare her away when she was just now starting to really make some good progress.

  She was hard and strong as a person, but also fragile from what I’d been seeing. Like ceramic.

  And I knew she wasn’t in the best of places right now.

  I started a change. Back to my human form. She looked at me, confused and blushing bright red as I kneeled in front of her naked.

  I held my hands out to her, and she took them in her own.

  “Morgan, um, what… are you doing?”

  I repeated my earlier gesture, placing a finger on her lips, then cupping her cheek in one hand. I stared into her eyes.

  When I spoke, my voice was just above a whisper.

  “Taylor… I learned something about you the other day at your home, with the lawsuits and the story of what happened to you that you shared.”

  I held her hand and squeezed it. She returned the gesture after a moment.

  “Will you… Make me a promise?” I asked her. She tilted her head, and I added: “It’s… nothing complicated, not really. Will you stay here with me until I finish telling you something that I think is extremely important? Allow me to complete what I have to say, and then if you have to leave, you can after?”

  She drew her brows together, then nodded slowly. She could tell that whatever it might be, it was something serious.

  I took a deep breath, cleared my head, and started speaking. What I was doing was awful. A truly horrible thing, I was violating one of the big unspoken rules. But it was something she was going to find out very quickly as her lawsuits moved forward.

  I wanted her to trust me.

  So I told her about Sophia Hess, and who she really was.

  Taylor didn’t say anything. She sat with me, listened, and reacted in silence.

  Shock. Disbelief. Hurt. Anger. Hatred.

  When I finished, I explained why I was telling her now—how I’d needed a few days to think after realizing the truth in her story. Why I was afraid to break one of the biggest unspoken rules. Why I’d waited… and why I couldn’t wait any longer.

  I even told her that I was scared that she’d leave because of it, but I wanted her to know now, not in the future, when her lawsuits went through. When she’d think less of me for keeping it from her.

  She held my hand the entire time.

  And when I was done… she didn’t leave.