Page 124 of Scaled Daddy's Secret Heir

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She watches me like she’s cataloging every bite.

“I forgot how much you eat,” she murmurs.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “I forgot what food tasted like outside of ration paste and metal bowls.”

Something in her expression pinches. Not pity.Recognition.

We don’t talk about the prison. Not yet.

But we will.

We wash up in silence. Her fingers brush mine once over the sink and it hits like static—this stupid, domestic moment suddenly unbearably tender.

“I missed this,” I murmur.

She nods, not trusting her voice.

Later, we sit by the window. The sea glimmers beneath the stars, the surf hushes against the rocks like the world’s oldest lullaby.

She leans into me.

I wrap an arm around her shoulders and kiss the top of her head.

“This place is safe?” I ask.

She hesitates. “As safe as anything gets anymore.”

I nod.

“But it won’t be if Dowron knows you’re alive,” she adds.

“I know.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“Always.”

She doesn’t ask for it. Doesn’t press. Just accepts that I do.

It means more than she knows.

I let the silence stretch again. Let the rhythm of her breathing slow against my chest.

I’ve killed for less than this.

I’vesurvivedfor less than this.

And I’ll do it again.

The bond between us—it’s not some flickering candle.

It’s molten. Dense.Permanent.

I don’t need to brand her. Don’t need to mark her.

She’s mine.

And I’m hers.

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