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“That friend of yours is not someone I want circling my daughter.”

Jack.

He means Jack.

Of course he does.

Shame follows, swift and vicious, because I’m such a fucking coward, relieved that he’s saying Jack’s name and not mine.

Coward. Safe. Boring.

“No,” I say to Bill. “I can see why he might concern you.”

The lord of all watches me.

“I trust you’ll keep a handle on that situation.”

The room narrows to one point.

His eyes.

My pulse.

The power of unspoken force in his stare. Alice’s black line, solid and unyielding through everything.

I have the same black line running through my own soul, rigid and terrified.

“I’ll make sure of it,” I say.

The lie tastes like puked up prosecco.

Bill holds my stare. I hold his.

“Are you certain of that?”

Somewhere inside me, the desperate teenager lowers his head in shame.

“Yes,” I repeat, hating myself. “Of course.”

“Good.”

One word. A dismissal dressed as approval. Another blade that drives its way inside my guts.

If only I had any.

Bill stands, and I stand with him because my body still knows its place, even if my soul has gone feral.

“I need you focused,” Bill says. “Christopher’s return will bring new opportunities, and I’ll want you involved in the transition.”

“Of course. Yes. Absolutely.”

“There must be no distractions, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“No complications.”

“No. No complications.”