Page 98 of Molt

A flash of anger.

Familiar and dangerous.

For one second, I see 1921.

The locked door. The fireplace poker.

I step back.

She sees why.

Her face changes. “That’s what happened, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“We kept making decisions for each other.”

I say nothing.

“You decided what I could handle.”

“Yes.”

“I decided whether you were worth dying for.”

“Yes.”

“We never actually let the other person choose.”

“No.”

Lenora wipes her cheeks. “Then we stop.”

I stare at her “What?”

“We stop trying to save each other.”

My heart twists. “That sounds fucking terrible.”

“I don’t mean we let each other die.”

“Then what?”

“We tell each other everything.” She steps closer. “No hiding.”

“Lenora…”

“No locking doors.”

I flinch.

“No tying anyone to chairs.”

Despite everything, I almost smile. “Fair.”

“No martyr bullshit.”

“That one feels directed.”