Page 201 of Deadliest Psychos

“It was a corridor.”

The word threads through everything that came before.

“So what were theyreallywatching?” I ask.

“Probably how you decide and react when resistance stops being useful,” Ghost says. “What you do when the pressure eases instead of escalating.”

My breathing stays even. That feels like a problem.

“And now?” I ask.

“Now they’re watching what you do when you think you’re safe.”

I let his words sink in as my head rests back against the concrete wall. Ghost mirrors me a moment later. He’s not wrong. And he’s not telling me anything I haven’t figured out for myself. But still, it’s good to have my theories confirmed. I don’t know why I feel like I can talk to him and not the others, but…he gets it.

Our shoulders stay pressed together – grounded, unremarkable, intimate in a way that doesn’t ask permission.

“I don’t want to lose myself,” I say.

“You won’t,” he replies. “Not unless you stop checking.”

“How do I tell what’s me?” I ask.

“You won’t always,” he says. “The important part is not deciding too quickly that clarity means purity.”

I turn my head. He’s closer than I realised. Close enough to feel his breath change when I shift.

“I should go back,” I say.

“Yes,” he agrees. “Before Nightshade tears the building down looking for you.”

A faint smile ghosts across my mouth.

Before I stand, I hesitate.

“Does it ever stop feeling like a negotiation?” I ask.

“No,” Ghost says. “But you learn which terms are non-negotiable and try to avoid hostage situations.”

I rise. Balanced. Controlled. Still myself. Mostly.

Before I open the door, I turn back.

“You don’t see me as broken,” I say.

“No,” he answers without pause. “I see you as inhabited.”

Something in my chest tightens, precise and contained.

I step closer instead of away.

It isn’t planned. It isn’t romantic. It’s necessity.

I lean in and press my forehead lightly to his – brief, careful. A grounding point. His breath catches, then steadies. One of his hands lifts, pauses, then settles at my wrist, fingers warm and anchoring.

No claiming. No taking.

Just confirmation.