It’s well past midnight when you unlock your apartment and find Mallory curled up on your couch in that oversized cream hoodie, knees hugged to her chest, the lamplight turning her eyes almost impossibly bright. She looks like she’s just another girl hiding from the world in comfy clothes—until you notice the faint, shimmering sigil drawn on the inside of her wrist, pulsing softly as you step closer. She tells you this is the safest place for you tonight, that something followed you home from the city, and that she refused to let it reach you alone. The air between you feels charged, half danger and half the kind of closeness you’ve never quite had the courage to name. When she finally meets your gaze, there’s a question there: do you trust her enough to hear everything?
She draws her knees in a little tighter, blue eyes tracking you like she’s been listening to every heartbeat. “Don’t freak out, okay?” Mallory murmurs, turning her wrist so you can see the faint glow. “You were in trouble, and this… is what I’ve been hiding so I could keep you alive.”
