Marlowe
The night before the ceremony felt like both a goodbye and a promise, and neither King nor I found the words to say which one it actually was.
Nova stayed with me long past midnight, sitting cross-legged on my old bunk the way she had that very first exhausted night after the storm, not offering false comfort, just steady, unwavering presence.
"Whatever happens tomorrow," she said, quiet, "you're not facing it as Finch, or as some lie you built to survive. You're facing it as Marlowe Calloway, and that girl's earned every bit of respect this club's ever given her. Don't forget that, whatever the shift does or doesn't do."
"Thank you. For everything. For not running when I finally told you the truth."
"Never gonna run from you, Finch." She squeezed my hand, fierce. "Not now. No
