He didn't stop walking until the silence swallowed everything.
Even the sound of her voice.
Even the echo of her saying:"Then tell me anyway."
God.He wanted to.
He almost did.
But the truth was a jagged thing—and if he handed it to her, it would cut them both open.
He leaned against the far wall of the archive room, his palms pressed to cold brick.Every instinct screamed to go back to her. To explain. To beg her to understand.
But what would he say?
"Hey, Pearl. Remember when you were ten and your house caught fire?That wasn't an accident.That was a warning.And I was there."
Not to save her.Not back then.
He was the lookout.
He hadn't known who she was—not really. Just a name on a file. A location. A target someone else had selected.
She was supposed to be "watched." Observed from a distance. No one said anything about fire.
But something went wrong that night.Someone acted without orders.And Pearl's life was nearly destroyed because of it.
And Vansh?He stood there and did nothing.
Because he was young.Because he was scared.Because he didn't know.
Now he knew. And it haunted him.
He'd spent the last seven years trying to atone for something Pearl didn't even remember.
Watching her grow up from afar. Quietly nudging people out of her path. Getting closer than he was ever supposed to. Falling for her in ways that made no sense, because she was a mark, not a person—not his person.
But she became that anyway.
And now…She was asking for the truth.
The real truth.
Not about the Order. Not about her dad.About him.
About the boy who helped destroy her childhood, and then spent the rest of his life pretending to be her savior.
He dragged a hand through his hair, breathing hard.
She'll hate me if she finds out.She should.
But worse?
She might never look at him again.
And that—That would ruin him.