“You’re right,” she replied, putting the dagger back in her boot and leaving the medical ward.

As the door slid shut, a hot tear fell down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away. Why was she crying? She was angry—angry that she was relieved to be out of that room, angry that he wouldn’t talk to her, angry that she left.

Angry that . . .

Angry that she couldn’t tell if he was her Di, or another trick of the HIVE. Angry that, if he was hers, he wasn’t the Di she remembered. Something terrible had settled between them, prowling the ten feet that separated them, teeth bared. Her fingers pressed against the ropy scar on her stomach, not sure if it warded off the monster or kept it tethered there.

She had dreamed of wrenching her Di out of the HIVE so many times. She had envisioned exactly how it’d go, because she always thought it would feel like coming home.

But maybe her Di was only in her head.

Maybe she didn’t love him at all—did she? Love was stubborn, and love was impatient, and thoughtless and self-centered and vainglorious. It hid in the crevices of your soul when you thought it had run away, and it never left—like a scar: deep and ugly and enduring.

She wiped another hot tear from her cheek when she heard Jax come down the stairs.

“We’ll be arriving in Haven’s Grave in a few hours. Is the metalhead awake yet? I really don’t want to go in to dock with him still unconscious.” He didn’t realize she was crying until he came to stand beside her. He gave a start, the light under his skin flickering. “Oh, love! Is everything all right?”

“Fine.” She quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand again. “I’m fine. He’s awake.”

“Oh.” He glanced in through the window. As if he heard them, Di lifted his moonlit eyes to the window. “So he is.”

“He won’t talk to me.”

“At all?”

She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself tightly. “He asked for the captain.”

“Huh.” He clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “Do you think he’s still HIVE’d?”

She hesitated. “It’s reckless to say no, isn’t it? I know he could still be tricking me, but . . .”

Jax didn’t say anything for a long moment. The light under his skin shifted quicker than before, as if under duress, and his frown deepened. “Without Elara here, there’s no way to prove to him that he isn’t still HIVE’d—” His words caught in his throat. “Actually, I’ve an idea. Don’t get the captain yet.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure yet, but if you hear me scream, please come running—with a gun,” he added, and unlocked the medical ward door.

Jax

The light beneath his skin whispered softly, warning him. Not of Di. Not in the way he expected. But of what would come after. He had an idea, but he was hard-pressed to actually believe that it would work.