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Piper’s eyes widen, her protective-sister hackles lowering just a fraction. The sheer audacity of the dead wife card hits her right in the empathy. “Oh. Oh, God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you’d been going back to the groups, Edes. You told me you hated them.”

I make a sound that’s meant to be a confirmation but comes out like I’m choking on a marble. “Mhm. Yeah,” I manage. “I... I went back. For a bit. It’s just been... a lot.”

“It’s quite alright,” Malachi interjects, his thumb tracing a soothing circle on the back of my hand—a gesture that feels less like comfort and more like a victory lap. “She’s probably worried you’d think it was 'too soon' for her to be making new friends. But pain recognizes pain, doesn't it?”

“I’m so sorry, Mal,” Piper mutters, her face flushing a deep pink with embarrassment. “I’m just… I’m a bit on edge. I saw you two together and I just… I’m protective, I guess.”

“Don’t apologize,” he says with a gracious shake of his head. “But let’s focus on Eden, shall we? She’s the one doing the hard work today.”

He looks back at me, those lying, demonic eyes sparkling with an unholy level of amusement.

Motherfucker.

“Eden Loxley? Dr. Aris is ready for you,” the receptionist calls out, mercifully breaking the tension.

I stand up. Piper moves closer to me, her hand already twitching. And Malachi—God help me—unfolds all six-foot-four of himself, placing himself right at my side like a gigantic guard dog.

For a second, we all just stand there, eyes darting between each other.

I can’t take him in there. Talking about my actual demons in front of a demon is a one-way ticket to me losing the last shreds of sanity I have.

But if I leave him out here...

My gaze darts to the receptionist, then to the elderly woman in the corner who’s just trying to read her Gardening Weekly in peace. If I leave him alone, he might decide the waiting room music is an inconvenience and burn the building down. Or he might get bored of his brand-new, stolen shell and try hunting for a new one.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

No. What’s the worst he can do? We know our limits with how far apart we can be. He won’t do anything stupid. Surely he can show some form of restraint.

“Edes, come on,” Piper says, her hand firm on my shoulder, steering me toward the office door. She shoots a look at Malachi that could peel paint. “I’m coming in with you. Dr. Aris said it was fine to have family in the session today.”

I look back at Malachi, who has a wicked smirk playing on his lips as if he can taste my thoughts.

“Stay,” I mouth at him, my eyes wide and pleading.

He just tilts his head, his brow arching in a silent challenge that says 'Try and make me.'

The panic is roiling hard and hot in my body, but I swallow it down. I don't have a choice. I never have a fucking choice.

“You wait here… Mal,” I say cautiously, putting my back to Piper so she can’t see the fear in my eyes.

“Are you sure, baby girl?” He leans down and murmurs right into my ear, sending goosebumps skittering over my body. “Must she be involved? I’ll be much better company.”

“Just sit and stay,” I whisper-hiss, my grip tightening on the charcoal wool until my knuckles ache. “And for the love of God, don't attack the other patients.”

He lets out a soft, huffed breath of a laugh and settles back into the plastic chair.

Dr. Aris is already seated, his spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose like a gatekeeper to clinical stability. He looks up as we enter, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Eden,” he says warmly. “It’s been far too long. I was beginning to think you’d decided you were cured. And Piper, it’s good to see you again. I don’t believe I’ve seen you in the office since… well, since the early days. How’ve you both been?”

The early days. The polite way of saying since your world exploded and your sister had to carry you here like a broken doll.

“Great,” I lie, sinking into the velvet couch. “Everything is just… perfectly normal. I’ve just been busy.”

Dr. Aris hums, scribbling something on his notepad. He looks over the rims of his glasses, his gaze softening into that specialized look of professional empathy that usually precedes an intellectual dismantling.

“I’m glad to hear you’re busy, Eden, but Piper reached out to me before the session. She’s concerned. She mentioned that she believes you might be self-harming.”