“Afraid that what you are becoming will change everything,” Atticus adds quietly.
Their honesty strips something raw open inside me.
“And are you loyal,” I ask softly.
Axel does not hesitate.
“Yes.”
Atticus nods once.
“Always.”
I could choose secrecy in that moment, and I could hold back the vision of their ancestor and the burning temple to preserve something fragile between us, but I do not.
“I saw your bloodline in the betrayal,” I say steadily.
Their expressions do not fracture.
They absorb it.
“If that is true,” Axel says after a long pause, “then our loyalty must be stronger than legacy.”
Something shifts in the bond between us then, not submission and not dominance, but recognition, because the ground beneath our dynamic has tilted and none of us pretend otherwise.
Outs
