Marlowe
Neither of us slept much that night, both of us too raw for rest, sitting in careful, separate silence in a room that had held considerably more warmth in it just days before.
By morning, something had settled between us that wasn't quite peace but wasn't quite war either — a fragile, deliberate truce built on exhaustion and the plain fact that neither of us had left.
"I need you to understand something," King said, once daylight had made the whole conversation feel slightly more possible. "Keeping this from the club isn't a small thing I'm agreeing to. It's a law older than either of us, and if it comes out that I knew and said nothing, it's not just your standing at risk. It's mine too."
"I know."
"I need you to actually know it. Not just say the words." He held my eyes, ser
