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“I had coffee.”

“That isn’t food.”

“And a granola bar.”

Kalon stared at me.

“Fine. Yesterday?” I squinted, trying to remember.

My attention kept drifting toward the empty window.

“I can’t stay here.”

“Okay, but you’re eating before I drive you anywhere.”

I went quiet.

His house was warm. The locks worked. Calcifer hated me with a consistency I respected. I should have wanted to stay. But I couldn’t make myself want to.

He cooked eggs while I sat at the counter pretending the dark window over his sink held no interest. His kitchen smelled of butter and toast, warm and painfully normal. Nothing burned. No alarms screaming. I began to suspect competence might be one of his supernatural abilities.

Kalon placed a plate in front of me. “Eat.”

“I don’t need all this.”

“You need more than caffeine and poor judgment.”

“Those have carried me this far.”

“Barely.” He raised an eyebrow.

I finished half the plate because he was watching me as though he would physically age from disappointment if I didn’t. When I pushed it away, he accepted defeat with grace.

“More?”

“No. My body received nutrients instead of caffeine, and now it’s confused.”

He took the plate and rinsed it in the sink.

“I’ll take you home,” he said.

I faced the window again.

The yard remained empty.

Something had changed tonight. I had spent weeks waiting for the masked man to decide what happened next. He broke into my home, set the rules, and left me reacting to whatever he offered.

I wanted an answer.

I also wanted him to understand I was angry enough to demand one.

“Tomorrow, I’m doing something about this.”

His brows drew together. “What does that mean?”

“I haven’t figured it out yet.”

He collected my bag while Calcifer followed us to the door, screaming as though Kalon had chosen me over him and destroyed their family.