Beatrice POV
Cold settled in my chest, not anger. Recognition.
"How will you phrase it?" I asked.
She swallowed. "I'll say I supported your release, but not your continued involvement."
Clean.
Precise.
Fatal.
"I understand," I said.
Her shoulders sagged in relief.
That hurt more than anything else.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"I know," I replied.
She left.
I closed the door slowly.
And for the first time since my release, I allowed myself to feel the full weight of it.
Not fear.
Not rage.
Clarity.
The pressure hadn't just shifted onto me.
It was locked.
Aurora had become untouchable.
Catherine had become indispensable.
And I had become the necessary example.
The system didn't need to silence me.
It needed to show that even justified dissent has a shelf life.
I walked to the window, looking out over the mountain steady, humming, awake.
I thought of Stefano, introducing friction like a blade into machinery.
