CHAPTER 303: THRESHOLDS

I couldn’t help, but be uneasy and move my feet from side to side as I watched the numbers on the elevator screen slowly rise up to the penthouse. The only sound I could hear was that of the steady and quiet buzzing.

I shrugged, hopping to release some of the tension that my shoulders had pent up since I left the home of Mary Steward. Though when the doors finally opened and I was face to face with the hallway leading to Alexis’s office, the tension hadn’t slowed down. Not on the way back, not on the slow climb up our towering apartment and not even now.

By now, it was late enough that most lights in hour home were dimmed down. Our living room emitted a soft glow of warm hues like red and orange while out kitchen had the aroma of tea and freshly used paper seeping out of it. Someone had likely brewed a cup hours earlier and it was left behind. It was probably Sienna has she drinks the most tea of anyone here.

I walked past our sofas, the shelves that were filled with magazines and instructional guides that I had never bothered to read and past our glass table that was marked with light scratches and water stains much to Evelyn’s annoyance.

I paused in front of Alexis’s door, lifting a hand, letting it hover for a moment before I knocked.

"Come in."

Her voice was calm, as always, carrying that quiet firmness that never felt like an order, only an invitation. I pushed the door open, stepping inside.

Her office never changed in appearance. It was the same shelves full of medicals books and small potted plants that were miraculously alive despite the lack of natural lighting. There was her main desk of operations that had a large stack pile of files with a lamp to the side, illuminating the papers and the wood supporting them. Alexis was sitting behind it, looking at the tablet she always uses as she writes down notes on a piece of paper to the side. She eventually puts the tablet down.

"You’ve been coming by a lot lately," she said, her tone neutral, her eyes flicking up to meet mine.

I didn’t sit right away. I let the silence stretch between us, rolling my jaw, trying to find the words that had been knotting themselves in my chest since I watched the hacker disappear down that street.

"I know," I said finally, stepping forward and lowering myself into the chair across from her. The leather creaked under my weight, too loud in the quiet. "It’s... been a long week."

"It has," she agreed. She folded her hands in front of her, leaning forward slightly. "Tell me."

I looked down at my hands, the faint lines of dried blood still embedded in the skin around my knuckles. I hadn’t noticed it until now. I rubbed at it with my thumb, but it didn’t come off.

"Alexis," I started, then stopped. My mouth felt dry. "I... I don’t want to be the kind of person who thinks murder is a solution."

She didn’t respond, not immediately. She waited, letting the words settle into the space between us, letting me hear them myself.

I swallowed, looking up, meeting her eyes. "But I thought about it. Today. I thought about how easy it would have been. If I had a gun, I could’ve ended it right there. Stopped him. Stopped everything."

My fingers clenched, nails digging into my palms, the pain sharp and grounding.

"It felt... logical. Efficient." My throat tightened. "And that scared me."

Her eyes softened, but her posture didn’t shift, steady as stone. "It scared you because you’re aware of it, Reynard. That’s a good thing."

I let out a breath, a rough sound that felt too close to a laugh. "Is it?"

"Yes." Her voice was quiet, but certain. "It means you’re still here. It means you haven’t crossed that line, even if it feels like you’re standing on it."

I looked past her, to the window that overlooked the city. The lights of Sector 47 glittered against the dark, a false calm, a quiet that was only surface-deep.

"I killed him, Alexis," I said, the words low, almost a whisper. "That man in the lab. The one who... who hurt us."

She didn’t react. She didn’t speak out.

I went on, "I killed him because I wanted to. Because after what he did to us, it felt like justice and the only thing I could do. Sienna. Camille. Evelyn. You. I ensured that he would never again harm you guys."

The room’s atmosphere changed as the weight of those names tugged at the quiet.

"I beat his head in with a helmet until there was nothing left," I said, my voice steady, detached. "And I didn’t stop until I was sure he was dead."

I lifted my hands, staring at the faint traces of blood that remained, invisible but there.

"And ever since then, it’s been easier to think about killing. To think about it as an option. As a solution."

Her eyes were on me, calm, unblinking, but not cold. She leaned back slightly, letting the words breathe.

"You’re afraid of becoming desensitized," she said softly.

"I am," I admitted.

We sat in the quiet for a moment, the hum of the building’s systems in the walls, the distant murmur of traffic far below.

"You see," she remarked, her tone soft yet steady, "desiring to shield others isn’t a fault. Feeling anger towards someone who has committed terrible acts is not unjustifiable. However, once you begin to view killing as simple... that’s the moment you have to stop and recall the reasons driving your actions.

I gazed at her, sensing the knot in my chest constrict, then relax, just a bit.

"I don’t want to lose myself," I expressed.

"I understand," she responded.

Her hand rose, signaling for me to take a breath, to calm down. "Reynard, your actions in that lab... weren’t just, but they were human. You felt anger, and you responded to that anger. It doesn’t make you a monster. However, you must acknowledge that it cannot be your standard."

I looked down again, pressing my thumbs together, the tension in my shoulders refusing to ease.

"Do you think I’m a monster?" I asked quietly.

"No." Her answer was immediate, firm. "I think you’re someone who’s seen too much, who’s carrying too much, and who’s afraid of becoming the thing you fight against."

The words settled into me, heavy but comforting.

"I don’t know how to stop thinking about it," I admitted. "About how easy it would be."

"You can’t stop the thoughts," she said. "But you can challenge them. When they come, ask yourself: Is this the kind of person I want to be? Is this aligned with the kind of justice I believe in?"

I let out a slow breath, closing my eyes. The image of the hacker flickered across my mind, the way he had limped, the way he hadn’t even looked back as he fled.

"I wanted to kill him," I said. "Because I knew he would do it again. Because I knew that he would hurt more people, that he would hurt more kids."

"And you’re right to be angry," Alexis said. "But anger is not clarity. Anger is not justice."

My hands relaxed, the tension draining from my fingers. I opened my eyes, looking at her.

"I don’t want to become numb to it," I replied.

"Then don’t," she said. "Just because the thoughts are present doesn’t mean you have to act on them. After letting them go, decide on a course of action that is consistent with who you are."

The terror that had been growing since that day in the lab was shattered by her straightforward words, which sank into me like a stone in water.

She continued, "Can I give you something to help?"

I hesitated, then nodded.

She reached into her drawer, pulling out a small black band, no wider than a hair tie, and held it out to me.

"What’s this?"

"A reminder," she said. "Wear it on your wrist. When the thoughts come, snap it. Let it ground you, bring you back. It’s a small thing, but sometimes small things can help."

I took it from her, rolling it between my fingers before slipping it onto my wrist. It was snug, barely noticeable, but there.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

She nodded, her eyes softening. "You’re not alone in this, Reynard. You don’t have to carry it by yourself."

I stood, the chair creaking as I stepped back, adjusting the band on my wrist.

"I’ll try," I said.

"That’s all I ask."

I paused at the door, looking back at her. She was already reaching for her tablet again, but she looked up, meeting my eyes.

"And Reynard?" she said.

"Yeah?"

"Don’t forget why you fight," she said. "Don’t forget who you’re fighting for."

I swallowed, the words sticking in my throat for a moment before I nodded.

"Yeah," I said again, softer this time. "I won’t."

I stepped out into the hall, the door closing quietly behind me. The lights in the common area were lower now, the penthouse quiet, the city beyond the windows a sprawl of lights and shadows.

I stood there for a moment, rolling my shoulders, feeling the weight of the day settle into me.

I lifted my hand, snapping the band lightly against my wrist.

The sound was soft, but it was there.

A reminder.

I took a breath, letting it out slowly, and turned toward my room.

The thoughts would come again. The desire to end it, to take the simplest path, would come again.

But I would meet them.

I would challenge them.

Because I wasn’t fighting for myself.

I was fighting for Mary.

For Sienna.

For Camille.

For Evelyn.

For Alexis.

For all of them.

And I wouldn’t let myself forget that.

Not now.

Not ever.