Nick stepped inside and let the door close behind him with a soft click.
He didn’t say anything at first.
Lexi didn’t look up.
The silence stretched long enough to become awkward, but he didn’t fill it. Instead, he took the opportunity to study her. She was smaller than he remembered. Or maybe she’d always been this small and he’d never taken the time to notice.
She was bundled in a heavy blanket, curled against the headboard like a stray cat too proud to hiss. Her ears didn’t twitch at his footsteps. Her eyes stayed fixed somewhere near the edge of the blanket.
“…Hey,” Nick said at last, keeping his voice low and casual. “You’re not dead. That’s… good.”
Lexi blinked and slowly turned her head. Her expression didn’t change.
Nick scratched the back of his neck and glanced around the room—no obvious surveillance, but that meant nothing. The Rovar family had enough money to pay for surveillance that no normal person could hope to detect.
He pulled a chair a little closer and sat down, stretching his legs. “You look like hell,” he said mildly.
Her voice came after a pause. “You look fine, but I can tell you’re not.”
“I’ve seen a lot of things,” he replied, folding his arms. “What’s one more nightmare?”
She didn’t answer. Her gaze fell again.
Nick watched her carefully. Every twitch, every subtle shift of posture. If they were being watched—and they most certainly were—he needed to be cautious. That meant no names, no implications, and definitely no hero speeches.
Still… there were things he could say.
“You scare them, you know. You hold a lot of information that they don’t have.”
Lexi tried to laugh, but it was a bitter, empty sound.
“They think you’re dangerous,” he continued. “Maybe they’re right.”
“I didn’t do much,” she muttered. “Killed a few handlers and guards. That’s about it. I mostly just watched.”
Nick leaned back slightly. “Sometimes it’s harder to watch.”
She looked up at him sharply. “You think that’s comforting? ‘Oh, boohoo, you’ve had it so hard.’” She frowned. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”
He smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pity you. I kinda suck at the whole ‘emotional intelligence’ thing. I can usually get a ballpark sense of the vibes, but my responses are mostly pretty clumsy.”
“It’s weird how I don’t know several of the words in your analogy, yet I easily understand the meaning,” Lexi complained. “Do you enjoy flaunting your intelligence? Does it make you feel good when other people feel stupid?”
He laughed. “Yes, let’s go with that. I wouldn’t say it’s totally accurate, but it’s close enough, and we’ve spent enough time on this pointless tangent.”
She paused. Then, with a trembling breath, she asked, “Is he okay?”
“That’s a dangerous question.”
“In what way?” she whispered. “I just want to know.”
He shrugged. “I’m told he got away. That’s all I know.”
She squeezed the blanket tighter. “He left me behind.”
She was playing along, but Nick knew what she was actually saying:
‘You left me behind.’
Nick studied her. “You’re here, alive and well. That counts for something.”
“Does it?” Her voice cracked. “Everyone keeps acting like survival is a gift. Like waking up alone is some kind of reward.”
She turned her face away again.
“He had the audacity to apologize without even saying goodbye.”
“…Maybe he thought you wouldn’t want a farewell?”
“I did.”
Nick let that sit.
He rubbed his palms together once, then said, “The duke thinks you’re a key witness. He wants answers.”
She sighed bitterly. “Then he should ask the ghosts.”
‘…Ghosts?’
“Would they talk?”
“They scream,” she whispered. “But no one listens.”
“…If no one listens, then how do you know they scream?”
She shrugged.
Nick exhaled through his nose. He let his tone go flat. “For what it’s worth, I know a little bit about that man and how he operates. He didn’t burn the estate for fun. He never laughs. He never celebrates. And he always ends up sacrificing his allies.”
Lexi flinched.
Nick pressed on subtly. “Sometimes people do terrible things because they think it’s the only option. That doesn’t make it right, nor does it make them heroes. It just means they’re tired.”
Her gaze dropped.
“I’m not here to tell you how to feel. But I’ll say this: you’re not chained anymore.”
She shook her head, more confused than angry. “Then why do I still feel owned?”
“Feelings are a funny thing, Princess.”
She flinched.
“You knew?”
“I didn’t.”
“But you do now.”
“Evidently.”
She sighed. “For what it’s worth, I never intended to hide it from you.”
A smile tugged at the edge of his lips. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag now,” he deadpanned.
She raised an eyebrow. “Why would you put a cat in a bag?”
“It’s a figure of speech. And a pun.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not a cat, I’m cat-adjacent. I’m a lot closer to a human than those lazy drama queens.”
“Is that how it works?”
She shrugged. “Honestly? Nobody really knows. The origin and history of my race is kept through oral tradition for some reason. If you’ve ever tried passing info around verbally, it gets distorted really quickly. I don’t trust much of what the elders told me.”
“Tell me about it.”
“About the elders?”
“Whatever you want to talk about.”
She glanced up, her eyes taking on a faraway look as she reminisced.
“Do you ever feel like the world hates you? Like the world is telling you that you shouldn’t be here?”
He nodded. “It’s perfectly normal.”
“To be hated?”
“To feel hated. As people, we’re naturally self-centered creatures. The world revolves around us because we perceive the world exclusively from our own perspective. But, in reality, the world is too big to care about someone as small as you.”
She smiled wistfully. “I guess that’s true.”
“Why do you think the world hates you?”
Her chin shuddered briefly and she took a deep breath to steady herself.
“You called me a princess earlier, right?”
“I did.”
She shook her head. “Did you know that most beastkin tribes have dozens of heirs? I was supposed to have siblings. Brothers, sisters, cousins…”
“…supposed to?”
She closed her eyes.
“They all died. All of them. Every last one.”
“Were they killed by humans?”
“No.”
She opened her eyes again, a hint of madness revealing itself in the dark depths.
“I killed them.”
Nick’s eyes widened with shock.
“…What? I thought your tribe was destroyed by mercenaries.”
“It was,” she replied simply. “Those bastards…”
‘What in the world…?’ Nick’s thoughts spiraled as he struggled to process this new piece of information.
“Why did you kill them all? Was it part of your culture?”
She sighed. “You’ve seen me transform into a werecat.”
“So you lost control?”
“No, that has nothing to do with it.”
“Then why did you mention it?”
“I’m setting a scene! Stop interrupting me.”
“Fine.”
“It was a cold night,” she said softly. “They lit the fires and made us drink. Said the eldest child must offer a life for every year the tribe had survived. I didn’t argue. I was proud. Of course I was.”
Nick frowned. “And then?”
“Then I woke up. They called it a cleansing.”
“Who did?”
She went quiet for a moment, eyes darting to the floor. “No, that’s not it. It wasn’t ritual. It was hunting season. The elders thought it would be funny to let the princess chase something real for once. I found a den. I heard screaming. I didn’t stop running until morning.”
“And?”
“There was blood everywhere.”
“From your siblings?”
She smiled thinly. “Do you think the world would be kinder if it was?”
Then she frowned. “Or maybe I didn’t kill them with claws,” she murmured. “Maybe I killed them by being born. Maybe the gods looked down, saw me breathing, and decided there wasn’t room for anyone else.”
“…”
She shrugged. “Actually, forget I said anything.”
“Lexi—”
“You’re too serious, Nick. You should laugh more. Everyone dies eventually, right? Maybe I’m just impatient.”
“You can’t tell me three different stories and expect me to pick one.”
Her smile returned, small and crooked. “Why not? Everyone else gets to do it. Now you get to pick which kind of monster I am. What do you think? Am I a murderer, a cursed child, or a liar?”
Nick grimaced. “Does it matter?”
“It does.”
He exhaled slowly. “Then you’re a liar.”
Her ears twitched. “That’s the worst one.”
“But it means that you’re human.”
She smirked. “The gods might smite you for saying that.”
“Then let them,” he said dismissively. “You’re a warrior, right?”
“I was,” she answered, a hint of confusion entering her voice at the sudden change of topic.
Her gaze dropped to the chains coiled around her wrists.
Nick leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You ever think about what you want to do with those?”
She frowned. “They don’t come off.”
“Didn’t ask if they could.”
Her silence stretched until it was almost uncomfortable before she lightly shook her head.
Nick reached out a hand. “Give me one.”
She hesitated, then lifted her right arm. The chain links clinked softly as he took the end, turning it in his hands, weighing it like a piece of jewelry instead of a restraint.
He began to wind the links slowly around her forearm, each turn deliberate. The metal whispered softly against itself like a heartbeat finding rhythm again.
By the time he looped it off near her elbow, it looked less like a shackle and more like a peculiar fashion statement.
A warrior’s bracer straight out of a fantasy story.
“See?” he said, letting go.
Lexi stared at her arm, then at him. “You think this changes anything?”
He leaned back, a shadow of a grin flickering across his face. “It changes everything.”
Her tail flicked once beneath the blanket. “You’re a weird human.”
“Sure.”
A faint smile tugged at her lips. “Can you do the other one?”
“If you want.”
She held her other arm out.
He took it without a word, his fingers steady this time. As he wound the second chain, she unconsciously started humming to herself.
Nick didn’t interrupt. The melody was low, unsteady, reminiscent of a mourning song-turned-lullaby. When he finished, the metal links gleamed faintly in the lamplight.
“There,” he said quietly. “Now they’re yours.”
Lexi stared at her arms. The chains didn’t feel lighter, but they didn’t feel quite as cold, either.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked.
“Because the alternative is to be a broken person waiting for someone to give you orders,” Nick said. “This way, at least one of us gets to look fashionable.”
Her ears twitched. “You’re making fun of me again.”
“A little bit, yeah.”
She shook her head, but the faintest laugh escaped her lips.
“Are you usually like this? Is it because I’m pretty?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a hint of self-confidence I see coming back, princess?”
“Maybe,” she grinned. “But I’m also confused.”
“About what?”
“If you’re this nice and caring, then why was I left behind?”
He clenched his teeth. “I’m not nice, and I’m the furthest thing from ‘caring’ that you’ll ever see.”
She scoffed. “Right.”
He pushed himself to his feet and moved toward the door. “I won’t make you talk about what happened, but I’m sure the duke won’t stop asking.”
Her grin widened. “Did you mean what you said back then? About helping people like me?”
Nick didn’t turn around. “I always mean what I say. But context matters…”
He hesitated.
Then, a little softer. “Yeah, I meant it.”
He placed a hand on the door handle, paused, and glanced back. “Not all cages are locked, Lexi. I don’t know what you’ve been through or how you feel, but you’re still alive. You’re here, right now, and you get to make a choice.”
She pulled her knees up and hid her face against them, her smile buried in the blanket.
“Liar…” she whispered.
Project Knightfall 